Husband -

This man drives me nuts, frustrates the hell out of me, and he is the love of my life, my rock, my column, my shoulder to cry on. Occasionally he'll give me the "Calm down," or "It can't be that bad," statement, yet for the most part he listens to my philosophize and theory'ize tangents and explorations, even when he's a bottom-line "Just tell me straight," "Why worry about that," person. 

I love him; these past nine years have been hard on our marriage - cancer, parents dying and Weaver estate to care for, child issues, caring for parents, sorting through Walker home, work-related trauma, 2020, and he's been still and the most amazing support - he's my calm presence; I can count on him; and he is all I need. 

Siblings and Life and Death and After -

Six weeks ago my mother passed away, 

at my home, in my library. 

The last few days of her life

 she was surrounded by family. 

And with that phrase I begin my list of the positives of having a loved one die. 

Mom loved having her children around her, and her last days fulfilled that desire; she was encompassed, enclosed, encircled with family. Every single moment; she was never alone from Friday evening when we brought her to my home until Saturday afternoon when she was laid in the ground, and then she was adjacent to Dad, to her in-laws.

Upon moving in to the Beehive Home where she lived her last year of life, she had, what my brother called a "Moment of Lucidity," and sent out a text to all of her children: "Why do I have to live here when you all have room for me and you are all good cooks." That moment quickly passed, yet it was a window into her dementia-connected frustration as well as her deepest desire. Company and Food, two elements in Mom's life she needed. Mom did not like being alone. Mom was not alone. 

Mom loved family dinners, reunions, celebrations, even if they put everyone out, having to rearrange schedules to make her guilt-trip work. These really were good times, and her insistence made her the worrier, listener, dinner-maker, party-planner, and damn stubborn - she would not allow anyone to step into her role, saying "Don't put me out to pasture." We all learned ways to unload some of this, while making Mom think she was still in control. 

Hence - 

I brought Mom home, my home became the gathering place, and there was not a single moment when Mom was alone. And with my kitchen under construction, we all were semi-forced into being right there with her; there was no kitchen for anyone to retreat to; and this is miraculous, really really the only blessing that came from my kitchen being 3 months behind schedule. 

We planned her funeral, figured out meals and transportation, called those who could not be there, and we had generations and genders together in deep personal intimate ways. We cried together, ate together, laughed together, told stories together, planned together, sat together. And not a single tense moment -  because for all of our lives we had learned how to be together, and together in tiny spaces. Thank you Mom, and Dad. 

After Mom's service we had a meal together, and then we quickly retreated to my home, again. We began in the family room, moved to the deck, hugged and cuddled and laughed and cried and asked questions and hypothesized answers and discussed dynamics and how we got to where we are and what if's and supported each other, again all generations and genders, and loved every moment. 

Our weaving of these last six years, since Dad passed away, and to a major extent years before, we have become pro's - we have learned all roles; no one was in charge, we know our strengths and weaknesses without having to point them out or discuss them. 

And just this last week, without a mother to "direct" us, we began planning our sibling reunion for next summer. We're stuck with each other, and I kinda like that. 

      

Stages of Grief - And How I'm Journey'ing Them -

Elizabeth Kubler Ross says there are 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  Her colleague and grief expert, David Kessler, added finding meaning to make this 6 stages. 

And here I am, four weeks from my mother's death, and feeling empty, pissed, exhausted, and too tired to give a f* with absolutely no f*'s to give. 

What stage is that?! 

Here's where I am today: 

Grief - for my mom that she chose to live safely, not taking any risks - even not wanting to have her ears' pierced, out of fear. She lived a life of walking cautiously, always less, never more. And I'm sorry for her. And I'm also grieving for her children who felt obligated to live life large, so that she could stand at the living room window and watch, participating vicariously, always so proud of us, always so cautious. 

Denial - Not really feeling that; or maybe I did years ago when I saw her sorting papers on the dining room table and then resorting them again; or when I asked her help in making face masks, and she couldn't figure out how to turn them over to pin the elastic in before they were sewn. Or maybe when she was short-tempered with my dad and got upset with him because he couldn't sort his medications into the pill holder. Denial that perhaps she was slipping, or just so busy focused on Dad that she had every reason to slip? 

Anger - Like I said, I'm pissed. The November I was 3 years old my father bought Sheri and I cute fluffy brown and cream winter coats; he was so excited to show us off to Mom, and so excited to share with his world that he had a son. And as this 63 year old remembers, my mother shamed him for not buying us something practical, and she never honored him for wanting us to be cute and cuddly and presentable to Mom and my new baby brother. And I've carried that with me for all of my life. That shame that I would want "more," and that fear that if I did, I was not worthy, or wanting was unacceptable. And even more, knowing that my dad had disappointed my mother, and that he would continue to do so, and that it would be my responsibility to take care of her and make sure she was never left alone, and she would always have a companion, someone who understood her "wishes" and made them come true. I'll write more about Anger as I process this. 

Bargaining - With God and with my heritage. Because I've honored the women who came before me, can I leave them now? Can I leave them behind and move forward honoring me and my future? Can I ask the same for my daughters and grand-daughters? Can I tell them that because I carried the past, they don't have to? Dear Mom and Grandma and Great-grandmothers and aunts - I carried you throughout my life, doing the best I could to make you proud of me, to not disappoint you, to live a life you would be proud of. Can I stop now? And live my life? Can I sever those ties that not only connected us, but bound me to pull the past behind me like a mother duck and her ducklings? And why oh why have I felt morally obligated? Are there ancestors or angels or guides and do I want any of these? 

Depression - Just absolutely befuddled at how I got here, and yet knowing how I did, and feeling very sad that for the past 9-19-63 years I have been caring for those who can't care for themselves (Who told me this? I have no idea.). Scott and I bought the home we live in 17 years ago, so squeezingly close to both sets of parents, so we could care for them as they aged, and then buried one parent, then cancer, then another parent, then no cancer, then aging and pain and needs and another parent buried, and dementia and lonely and fear and fulfilling, and death. And somewhere We disappeared and caregivers appeared. Somewhere Ronda never recovered, never gave herself permission or time to move forward - to find the new Ronda; rather, I've been marking time, waiting, waiting. 

Finding Meaning - Not finding meaning for Mom's death, for the deaths that I see and assist with every single day. That's not an issue for me. Yet Finding Meaning for me, for my life, for making plans and goals and moving forward without being feeling responsible, for letting go. How do I find my own meaning now? What is my "Vision" "Mission" "Values"? What is my meaning? What do I want for myself today and what do I want tomorrow to be? What brings me joy? What brings me happiness? What brings me passion? What makes me come alive? I have no f*'ing idea! 

So here I go - an adventure awaits! I now just need to be ok with looking forward - forward, alone, with Scott, no past to weigh me down. Yikes! 

Coping -

 "Ronda, how are you? I know you've been so involved in your mother's care these past years, how are you?" 

Tough question to answer. Right now my answer is, "Coping." One day at a time; being intentional, and being at work, which is safe, known, and busy. 

I see dying and death on a daily basis; Mom's preparing to die and dying really didn't phase me. Or so I think! 

And yet I'm not sleeping, not focusing, and just numb. Which also happens when I'm faced with a crazy day at work. 

Today this came, and I'll be perusing it while mulling over my own thoughts and connecting some dots. 

Coping is Essential to Manage Palliative Care Professionals’ Challenges 

Healthcare professionals learn to take care of themselves while taking care of others. Coping mechanisms in palliative care extend beyond the management of emotions and problems, and beyond the disengagement of personal aspects from the environment. It is a learning process over time, in which influencing factors, coping strategies and personal and professional development are interrelated. This development is probably the most central pillar in training on providing healthcare to others.

The degree of self-awareness can be trained with practices oriented to the development of attention, allowing better management of emotions and greater emotional balance. This is a factor that makes a difference between ‘suffering’ and ‘enjoying work.’ Health professionals are the most powerful medicine for patients, emphasizing the importance of personal and professional aspects. The effectiveness of the healthcare process for end-of-life patients and their families will depend on providing healthcare ‘without getting burned,’ and, to that end, harmony and personal balance is necessary. If these health professionals manage to establish a deep relationship, in which the bond is healing for both the patients and themselves, they will achieve deep personal satisfaction, an expanded perception of reality and participation in the transmutation of others’ suffering. This practice is not only non-exhausting, but a source of satisfaction and personal growth, which promotes self-care activities performed by the health professionals during the therapeutic processes. 

  Adaptation and continuous learning: integrative review of coping strategies of palliative care professionals. [2] Sapeta, et al.

Palliative Medicine. 2021. September.

Alice Ann Jensen Walker - Mom -

 My mom passed away Tuesday evening, surrounded by her girls. 

The link to her obituary is: https://www.utahvalleyfuneral.com/obituaries/Alice-Walker-10/#!/TributeWall. 

Keeping Vigil -

 My mom has been in a care center for a year. Her dementia, and corresponding physical ailments, left her too difficult to care for at home. We found the most beautiful Beehive Home, and this is where she's lived until Friday evening. 

She's been declining significantly since November - from walker to wheelchair to a reclining padded wheelchair, to nearly full-time in a hospital bed. And in that time she's declined in her ability to walk, move her own body, feed herself, and for the most part, communicate with anything more than a nod or shake of her head. She's also been sleeping about 20 hours a day. 

After visiting her on Thursday afternoon, and trying to get her to eat cottage cheese and mandarin oranges, one of her most favorite meals, and her pocketing the food in her cheek rather than swallow, cleaning this out of her mouth and trying to get her to drink through a straw, I was at a loss. 

And yet - in the hospital we would consider her going on comfort measures, or only giving her liquid when she was offered and agreed. 

So, within just a half an hour, all seven children had agreed that comfort measures was what was needed, with swabbing her mouth with her liquid of choice - milk, grape juice, water, when she accepted the offer. 

I went home, thought about Mom dying in the care center, and I was having a tough time wrapping my head around this. At 5am Friday morning I heard, distinctly, Bring Her Home. One thing I've learned in my long life, is to listen when I receive any kind of prompting. 

I sent all of my siblings a text; we had agreed by 7am; my sister and I called the amazingly compassionate and kind Beehive Home director, called hospice, and we had things rolling for her to get home on Friday, by 9am! 

Mom was tucked into bed in my library (oh she loved books) by 7pm Friday evening. My sisters began arriving on Saturday morning, with my brother shortly after. Saturday and Sunday my home was filled with children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, with those siblings and others who could not be here in person Facetiming or calling to give her their love and say good-bye. 

My home has been over-flowing with loving energy - positive energy, and we have all felt angels around her. As we've sat and talked, ate, caught up, thought about tomorrows, I've definitely relished this liminal time with everyone. We've been through so much with Mom these past 6 years, and prior to that, with Dad the previous 3 years. And we've been united, and our conversations have mostly been about caring for them. However these last few days have also been about catching up on each other's lives, sharing our own stories. 

And it has been a delight - while Keeping Vigil, we've also been moving forward. 

Ironically, Mom is still here; she's not communicating, not taking in any food or liquid. My house is filled with women today, and we laughed this morning that Mom has never taken any physical risks and and has always kept her body healthy. Her heart and lungs are holding on, yet her soul is ready to move on. 

Dad died 6 years ago this July 5. Keeping Vigil. 

Prayers - Kate Bowler -

 So many times I have prayed for someone. And as a chaplain I often ask my patients, "Can I keep you in my prayer?" Often I'm asked to give a prayer for a patient, and I ask, "What would you like me to pray for," before praying. 

I love prayer. It's about as close to heaven as I may ever get. During cancer treatments I had so many people praying for me, meditating for me, sending positive thoughts and energy my way. And I felt those thoughts, those blessings. They buoyed me up, held me when I could not stand alone. Amazing to be the recipient of someone's prayer, when giving is my mode of operation, not receiving. 

Twice yesterday I felt the Spirit, when talking about prayer with patients. Once with a family whose father is dying - and they said there were hundreds of people praying for them, and they felt those prayers, and they believed there were people on both sides (earth and heaven) praying for them and supporting them. The second was with a young man who probably won't see 50. And he's rather agnostic and skeptical, yet we've connected, and we've talked angst and existential crisis and doubt and wanting to know. I asked him if I could keep him in my prayers. He did a "what good is it going to do" cough, and then said, "Yes. You know, my father is praying for me. And he always asks me what I want him to pray for. I know it makes him feel like he's doing something, because, really, what else can he do? And, I've felt his prayers, kinda like a warm blanket, kinda like a ray of sunshine. So, yes, you can pray for me." 

I prayed for these folks last night, along with my family, my mom, friends who are hurting. And yet - I don't pray for myself. I  pray that I have can be of service, that I can be aware of others' needs. But I don't pray for me, for comfort for myself, for strength for me, for clarity of mind for me, for hugs and holds and rays of sunshine for me. And maybe I should. 

This morning's prayer from Kate Bowler, is the prayer I needed today. A prayer/blessing for me, because of me, because I'm this person she is praying for. Thank you, Kate. 

a blessing for when you’re running on fumes and the summer is starting (unless, of course you’re fine. and if so, call me.)     Sometimes I am paper thinning at every touch.  Responsibilities and duties and errands are wearing me down. There is not enough time or energy  or finances or imagination.  I hardly recognize myself. I can’t keep going, but I can’t rest.  God, can You help me slow down?  I just need a little shelter and a long breath. I need a real summer.  Give me space to curl up for a while. Hold me until I can feel my shoulders drop,  and I am freed from what can’t happen right now.  Let me think only about what is gentle and lovely,  what is bountiful and unencumbered on this on this too-heavy day. God, scoop me up into life as it is.  Stop me from running ahead,  so I can be here in this space for the moment.   May this summer be a chance  to return to myself, once again.  Amen.