More Construction

Part 2- Under Construction 

This long update is filled with broken roads I didn’t intend to go down.  

(It took me this much time to get a hold on my stupidity. Being embarrassed doesn’t cover it.)

Several weeks ago, Friday the 12th of April, I was in a small slow wreck downtown.  I don’t like to leave campus during the day, but I needed to get the race packet for a 5k I had registered for.  This was the first time I have driven downtown since I had another fender bender back on September 27th, 2023. As I was driving I was telling myself that “it’ll be okay and I won’t make the wrong turn again.”  

And damn it, I did just like that.  

The same damn blind spot on my left peripheral vision as I scraped the driver’s side door. The other lady’s car had a few scratches: she was so kind to me.  No one was hurt, but I was in shock.  I am sorry to have squandered other peoples time and the damage on her car.  It was a very slow, slow wreck.  I couldn’t even dial my emergency contacts for Mariah.  I managed to contact one of the principals, Mr. Saker, who came to help me.  I shook on and off for several hours into the night.  

Had to get help to call Mariah.  Having to call your daughter to tell her you’ve been in yet another fender bender isn’t great. 

I was embarrassed as who else could this happen to?    I mean seriously.  I was not on my phone or anything like that.  In the wreck in September, there was no one willing to help me to be had.  I felt greatly alone. 

This time I felt like I was surrounded by angels who just wanted to remind me that there is help around me. I am praying and delving into how this could have happened again with my therapist.  I am just so grateful, and still quite rattled.  The gentlemen who are working on my car reminded me that “sometimes shit just happens.”

I have struggled since the April the 12th with my self esteem.   I am capable of great things, so why did I do something so stupid?  (Glad to have a therapist to guide me.)

 I am in a rental until I get info about my Subaru.  I have been forcing myself to drive more and more  to get my anxiety under control  while I’m driving the rental. 

I am also going to an eye doctor and a full checkup just to make sure there isn’t something more going on with my eye sight. 

I promise I am trying to be careful every day, and every way. I am not a complete idiot: I promise.   Thank you for your friendship and support.   

Counting On

In 2015, Liberty was a graduating senior at Caprock.  That was eight years ago. On Senior Day, we enjoyed the Pirate ship, the Hymilayan, and a few more rides that were Liberty accessible.   We tried to ensure that Libby got a genuine experience in her Senior year.  It was harrowing getting her into and out of the rides, but her smiles were worth it.  

Her senior year was wonderful for her. And like many other parents, it was harder on all of Libby's family. There was a fear of the unknown, excitement, and trepidation. She wanted to graduate with her friends- so she did. I didn't have a plan for where Libby would go while I was at school. We didn't have a plan at all. Stubbornness won, as it usually did.

Against my requests, Libby wanted to walk across the stage. It took a gait belt, leg braces, a principal, and several Special Education Aides flanking her through her journey across the stage. I handed her a diploma with tears running down my cheeks. I will never forget that day. It took her 14 hard and slow steps to get across to get that diploma. I am grateful she wanted to walk with her friends. Grateful it counted.

I count.  I count everything. And many things. I used to count every step on my walk after school.  No reason except I wanted to know exactly how many steps it took me to get home to Grandma.   For years I would count the time between breaths.  Count the breaths.  The time between medications.  Counting my grief with every breath.

It is a blessing and a challenge to continue to count the days since her last day: 471 days as of 5/17/23.   Counting the last time she ate. Counting the last time she laughed.  Counting back to the last times she sang.  I don’t need to keep counting, but it is a balm at times for my heart to count these moments and days. Instead, I can count the inches on her tree has grown, how long I’ve been living in my apartment, or how happy Mariah is.  I can count on the end of my 19th year of teaching.

 This is a monumental passage in my life.  Until now, I have never before lived alone.  I have never had my own bathroom. Never had my own closet. I have found that I am better with less.

Until now, I have always shared my space in some way.  I have very few items in my tiny home, and that is good. 

 I don’t need things.  I need time and healing peace. I need Libby’s tree to continue to grow.  Today, I have Monkey, my Siamese cat, and he is enough.   

( I do miss my dogs, but there’s no way for me to have them now.)  

There is no internet and no tv in my apartment, and I love the solace and quiet. I lose time in peacefulness as I count my days. I am humbled to have each and every day to carry on. It is a gift to have the time to carry on, as I grow into my own independence.

Mariah continues to flourish and become more and more of a force in her own world. She is kind, thoughtful, honest, and fierce. Mariah is everything I could have wanted her to be and SO MUCH MORE. Derrick and Mariah's understanding and support are a true gift. Cannot say thank you enough.

More and more I cleave to my faith for all of the opportunities and

challenges ahead.  

You are loved.  You are important. You count. Every bit and breath counts. This time is not guaranteed, so we are all graduating in our own ways. And it all counts. For that, we are blessed. "Didn't Know My Own Strength"

Run Fast Little One

 I have always cherished the beauty of the Easter season.  As a child Easter meant going to the garage sales with my Godmother to get a frilly dress, girdle, and “clicky” shoes.  Not to mention getting my hair pressed to set the curls in the right places.  I can still smell the rolls rising, deviled eggs, as the Ham baked for our after-church Easter Meal. 

In church, Easter meant bright colors came out of their hiding to usher us into a new season.  The hope of resurrection filled the world with a cacophony of risen life in both flora and fauna.  Easter is the time of resilience and re-beginnings. 

"There is Jesus"

Yet, before we get to that time of celebration there are the deep, dry, and cold parts of winter.  I am not comfortable in the dark, and this year Dark invited strange high winds that seem to stay on the Panhandle stage for encore after encore.  The trifecta of cold, dark, and windy means there aren’t many chances of running or biking outside, but I still didn’t welcome the winter blues this year as I have in the past yearning to be outside.  I am better when I can be outside. "When It Don't Come Easy" I don't think I am the only one struggling to not pick up the pent-up yuck of winter.

This year, I am coveting the starkness of Lent, and the simplicity of giving away what weighs us down.  As much as I relish the chance to love an unadorned church, I revel in the beauty rolling into the fully dressed church on a tide of colors. As simple as the church is when She is in Lent, She is just as surprisingly complex during Easter Tide. That contrast is part of my own emotional, physical, and spiritual rotation.  

 The more I am coming out of my Grief fog, the more I am realizing what is better for my whole self. That means I am finding time to be outside or get into the pool for laps- even if it is in short adventures. 

Easter and all of the beauty that comes along with Spring feels like I’ve been charged with glorious enlivened growth.  We’ve even had several little teasing spots of rain and even the dirt is wearing a “Spring come here to me” smell. Last week, 3/22, I had a doctor's checkup and afterward, I gleefully took myself to Palo Duro Canyon.  I had three hours before I had to return to school; I took a half day.  What beauty did I find?  No longer is the Canyon wearing the almost simple pallet of winter yellows and grays.   She is wearing lots of copper red and infantile greens as she gears up for the seasonal change.    

I saw all these beautiful friends and sang my way down the trail.  Then I saw the most amazing gift: I stopped to look at the stream and saw an adolescent Coyote across the stream.  I didn’t get a picture because she was looking right at me and I began to cry…  She stood completely still and then nodded her head as she sniffed in my direction. She was shedding her winter fur, as am I. Then I realized that her muzzle had red specks in her fur. 

 Libby was always the Wolf, the Coyote, the Fox: all the Canid.  I just kept singing “Hi Libby- Hi Libby- Hi Libby.”  I uh may have tried to follow that coyote for quite a while, and I could not keep up.  I couldn’t keep up with her.  

I choose to believe that Liberty needed to see me as much as I needed to feel her presence. I choose to believe that Liberty was letting me know that she is eating after so long struggling to eat.  I choose to believe that she is growing in her new realm by running fast as did so long ago.  I cannot say that I don’t miss her physical presence every day, but I am grateful that she is free of physical problems.  She has shed her body, just as the coyote is shedding blood-stained fur.  Every Easter we can clean out the negative and water the positive; we too can shed what doesn’t serve us.  

"Hold My Hand"

As everything is dynamically changing, and growing in this Eastertide I pray that we can be refreshed in this season.  I know that I am surrounded by love and support and for that I am grateful.  Please continue to say her name and keep her in our hearts.  Pray for her other family members and of course, for her amazing sister and Derrick.  We are all running in our own ways.  We are all learning and growing in our own ways.  As stark as parts of winter have been, Spring can be a fantastic race of growing and shifting into a better and stronger version of ourselves.  Run fast little one- I will always be cheering you on.

 

Thanksgiving Letter to Liberty and More -2022

Thanksgiving Letter to Liberty and More- 2022

This is a mottled grab bag of love, grief, and gratitude. 

It has been 295 days since your homegoing.  Some Days it doesn’t seem real, and other days I wear your passing like a shield. Much has changed, much of it is good.  I live in Amarillo in a tiny apartment with only Monkey (Frankie) as my companion.  I find that I have much to do and yet there is nothing to do except to get lost thinking about you.  Taking care of you was a blessing that definitely kept me busy.  In hindsight, I realize that the most painful part of letting you go is what I am most grateful for today.  I rarely wake up on a pill schedule any more, though I still reach out for you in the middle of the night.  Loving you through all of your medical needs is one of the greatest beautiful and hard things I’ve ever been a part of.  I am grateful for the long hard road we tripped down. 

I wanted to write to you during this time of thankfulness. 

 

 I am grateful for the chance to be your Mom especially since I wasn’t supposed to be able to conceive a second time.  I am grateful that you made Mariah a Big Sister. You must be so very proud of the woman your sister has become.  She is a truly amazing person who is kind, strong, determined, hard working, and hard loving.  She is the other half of my heart.  I am grateful for the times that you teased then loved your sister and your cousins.  I am especially grateful for the time you put the tarantula in your sister’s bed. 

I am grateful that you are exactly who you are throughout your life.  I am grateful for your laugh- even when it changed. I am grateful for how you love Rachael and your grandparents.  I am grateful how you love all animals and are going to be our very own  Steve Irvin. I am grateful for your love of being outdoors. I am grateful for the movies you will watch with us over and over.  

I am grateful for your memory and love of music. I am grateful for your love of art.  I am grateful for your love of hawks and wolves. I am grateful for the way you love your aunts and uncles. I am grateful for the community you created who love and support you.  I am grateful for how you cried and laughed when you need to.  I am grateful that I was able to hold you most nights in those last months. I am grateful I got to hold you when you began sundowning. I am grateful for the hospice caregivers we brought into our lives.    I am grateful for the time you were with us as a healthy Liberty, and after your body and brain changed. I am grateful that I have a memory of all of this and so much more.  I am grateful for my friends and family who let me talk about you, and those who don’t make me talk about you.

I know I was and am  blessed in so many ways for loving you.  Thank you.  Libby, please keep coming to visit us.  Please.  

https://youtu.be/KiypaURysz4 “Holy Now”

In case you are wanting to visit with Liberty, or want to sit in peace she now has a tree planted.  It is perfectly  planted in the south side of St. Andrew’s church grounds.  I am deeply grateful for David Stidham who heard what I needed and took care of getting it planted. It is a hybrid of four different kinds of apples that will pollinate itself.  Praying that this tree flourishes.  I need it to, so very much.  

 

The time around Thanksgiving has always been my favorite part of the year. In the last few years it has been a bit of a struggle.  Even with multiple stumbling blocks we’ve always been able to come together, or mostly together and celebrate.  In a year of firsts, my Thanksgiving will be in Amarillo.  It will be hard, different, but it will also be blessed.  I know some of the changes I have made have been hurtful, and for that I am sorry. As so much has changed, I needed to change as well.  I am grateful for my loving and accepting community.    

Now about the food…

I am going to share some of our favorite things.

Today would have been the 106th birthday of your GG (AKA Great Grandma/ Geneva Farley Bumpus).  The month of November belongs to her as all the fun we shared creating the Thanksgiving meal together.  She reminded me often to enjoy my time with both you and Mariah as our time will be short- much too short.  One of our favorite times in her kitchen was making the yeast rolls. You and Mariah would dip the hot buns into the mashed potatoes and gravy. We all loved those rolls. Sadly, I was not given that recipe, but I believe I have one that is close.  This first Thanksgiving I will be having the bread. Here is the closest recipe I could find.   Grandma's Old Fashioned Yeast Rolls

My godmothers, Aunt Gina and Aunt Verna, my fraternal Great Aunts loved to make different twists on family dishes. Most important was finding and crafting different recipes to share with their community of church ladies.  I was lucky to share weekends between my Grandmother and my Great Aunts, and sometimes with my cousin Tammy. One interesting variety I remember was being in the kitchen and perfecting a cranberry chutney recipe.  It was an interesting departure from the canned cranberry that I enjoyed.  This recipe is similar to what I remember.  (They may have made this for their Christmas meal; I can’t remember for sure.) This chutney is so good and you mix and match many of the spices to meet your tastes.  

Cranberry Chutney

I adore sweet potatoes.  I like them baked.  I like them fried.  I like them in the can or straight  out of the garden.  I will put them in salads, soups or as lovely sides.  I LOVE THEM!  Oh the happiness when I found this wonderful recipe for a casserole.  You can alter how much of the pineapple you add in, or you skip it all together.  It can also be altered into a souffle.   You can adjust to make it less sweet for your needs.  I love the crunchy and savory addition of the chopped pecans.  Almonds work as well.  I just wanted to share some of my favorite things along with the memories.  

Sweet Potato Casserole 

Libby loves Pecan Pie.   Loves it.   That is one of the pies that she would let me have the crust and she would ravage the innards. Both she and my Grandmother loved this pie even though it is always terribly sweet. They loved it.  There are many places that offer a great Pecan Pie, but I like the ones I have found at Sam’s.  They have a good bakery and offer huge pies.  Between holidays, I would buy her the little individual pecan pies and it never took her long to eat it all!  This last few years when Libby didn’t chew or swallow very well, I’d throw a piece in the Ninja and away she’d go. Especially when I was trying to keep weight on her.  Sweet stuff for my sweet little stuff.  

Pecan Pie

May you eat your fill and love more.  

Be blessed my friends. Until later, know that you are loved. 

Nine Months of First

 Nine Months of Firsts

I pray that the words of my heart ring true and offer healing, forgiveness, and hope. 

First February and Mariah’s birthday without Libby.  First Spring without Libby.  First Easter. First Mother’s Day without Libby. The first end of a school year.  First Summer without a family vacation altogether.  First New school year. First every day.  Every day is truly a day without Liberty, and some days that is very hard to reconcile when I am growing and healing on my own time. I am so very blessed to have an honest relationship with Mariah who has her own journey to traverse with her sister in her heart.   She strengthens me; she is a force to be reckoned with every day.

So much has changed in my world, and I know that I have been the catalyst of many of the changes.  It has been growing- a lot of growing.  It has also been a lot of aching hardships as I learn how to ride the waves of grief.  Liberty passed away on January 30th  with a beautiful hospice team, her favorite music, and her beloved family around.  So many of her loved ones were able to be there to say their farewells and offer support.  It was hard, and it was lovely.  I could not have asked for it to be more peaceful as she passed.  

Slowly my body is resetting, and I am no longer waking up multiple times a night to give Libby her meds or check on her. Now instead of getting up or reaching for her, I say her name and tell her I love her. I was blessed to have been part of her care team.   This time last year I knew Libby would not be with us too much longer.  Memories of last year are either convoluted or terribly clear.  There are many things I do not remember or don’t want to. For months, I would wake up mid-anxiety attack and/or crying. I knew my world was crashing and all I could do was what I could do: love the kid and support the others who love her.   

It was the letting go with grace and faith that was hard.  This hardness hits on and off like waves but hit full tilt in the last couple of weeks as my birthday approached.   It took a while for me to realize that the heaviness I felt was the fact that I am still here and Liberty’s is not.  Parents are not supposed to bury our children period. Losing a child in any way should not be part of the roller coaster we call life.  And even though it was a peaceful and perfect homegoing, it was still going away from our girl.  The child we all fought for and pushed to keep her happy and comfortable for so long is gone.  Still, I remain grateful to have been a part of her journey.  Grateful.

I am putting that heaviness off, as I cannot undo or change the long, hard, and blessed road we all traveled beside Liberty.  Now, we all need to forge new paths without her physically here.  Since April, I have made some big changes in my life.  These changes were for me to create a way to grow and heal.  After over 13 years of being a caretaker, I needed to be able to find who I was and try on the new growth my spirit was craving.   

I moved out of Happy and got a place for me to live in Amarillo. I have never lived alone.  Never had a bathroom or a closet to myself. It has been a blessing and a new kind of being.  I am learning to simply be in my space.  I enjoy being close to the church, school, and even stores, but  I miss the open spaces in Happy, the beautiful friends, and the community.  I miss my dogs and other animals, so grateful to have Monkey with me in Amarillo.   

My move caused many people I love pain, and for that I am sorry.  I needed to breathe and heal my own pains. I needed to go. I separated from Rachael.  In therapy, I have learned that two disparate things can be true, such as I didn’t want to hurt anyone,  and yet I needed to go for myself.  Completing the steps to end our relationship was hard.  We had many, many years growing together.  Now I pray that we can each grow strong as the individuals we are capable of being.  

   

I changed my job as well.  I went from teaching Advanced Placement English Literature and Dual Credit to returning to my first love in teaching: Special Education.   I am a co-teacher for several wonderfully talented teachers.  My learning curve has been huge; I love the challenge.  The world of Special Education has changed greatly in the last 15 years, so I have great things to learn. I am trying. My short-term memory is not great partially due to grief.  I am excited to keep trying and learning in this new position.    

https://music.apple.com/us/album/graves-into-gardens-studio/1524503069?i=1524503568

 

I pray that all that have loved and cared for Libby can grow and continue to share the love.  As this is my first birthday without her, may we all keep moving forward in love and hope. Every day is a day without Liberty, and yet she is always with us.  I have carried this grief in a pregnant heart as we step past the nine months of changes.   I am sorry I have not been sharing for so long.   Been doing the work and processing it on my own time.   Thank you all for your support. 

Waves

In February, I had a talk with my principal and blessedly, he listened. I am continually blessed by my campus and cohorts.  I had been trying to find a way to get a transfer or a change in assignment.  I knew that this discussion could have gone several ways. I didn’t want to leave my school, but I needed the change.  Another change in a barrage of healing and grieving,  Another change to mirror the way I have changed.   

 I needed out of the coveted position of teaching AP Literature.  I have loved and enjoyed the students and the AP style teaching strategies, yet I wanted to return to my first love of teaching students with different abilities.  For months I haven’t known what or where I would be teaching next year.  I have been specifically praying that I would be placed where I am needed and where I needed to be.   

I am a planning, list making, checking off the boxes, get it done on time, but what if, kind of chaos manager.  Facing the unknowns in my career was disconcerting and a little exciting.  

I realize that I have lost my self-confidence and quit listening to my own intuition.  I have not been listening to what I needed for a long while, mostly because I was honed into what Liberty and the family needed.  The little voice that kept telling me that I needed a change in my professional world also told me that more changes were coming. My intuitive inner voice has been awakened! 

(More about changes later.)

 One of the things I have been doing to exercise that intuitive siren within me is part of my swim training.  I have been closing my eyes while swimming laps. Goggles on, belly button, and forehead in line with the long blue stripe on the bottom    At first, it was unsettling.  With repeated attempts, I have become comfortable trusting my body’s rhythm with the forward crawl. When in doubt, I can simply open my eyes to ensure that I am within the safety zones of the lanes and I am not running into the lane ropes or other swimmers. When in doubt, I check in with my body if I am within the safety zone of the lanes.  

This is similar to being on the track where I can run or bike and have to be hyper-aware of anything except what my body is doing.  I can completely zone and pray and contemplate whatever my brain offers up.

https://youtu.be/zIC_9CI-FVw  My current favorite artist.

Just like so much in life, if I can continually trust my faith and my intuition whatever is going on will be ok. By limiting my visual stimulation, I can zone completely out and “hear” what my heart and brain need me to listen to.  I have had many “Libby squeezes” where I feel that she visits. A cacophony of emotions roll over me and then I have a knock-down drag-out over catching my breath.  These waves of grief just have to run their race, just as I do.  As the Libby squeeze subsides, there is a peace that brings hope and returns love to me. 

 Having your heart squeeze with grief and love while in the water is a different experience.  If you haven’t cried and laughed while swimming with your eyes closed, I recommend to not recommend it.  Just try to make sure to not swallow copious amounts of water. 

Still taking Kitty with me. 

You are loved.

Liberty whispers

When I knew that Liberty’s time was bgetting shorter, I tried to make a list of what would help everyone (me) deal with letting her go. These little gifts are what I cling to. Here is part of what I came up with:

1. Sing her favorite songs with abandon

2. Love on one of her favorite “babies”

3. Wear outfits that she liked

4. Notice butterflies

5. Find birds (hawks and others)

6. Watch a show or a movie she enjoyed

7. Hike for her

8. Play in  water

9. Howl at the moon

  10.Dance ridiculously

Whatever it is, I NEED to feel her presence.  This part is important as the ache I have with her not being physically here is overwhelming.  

The missing of Liberty is an expected guest at this point. Never know when it will arrive.  I miss her. I miss taking care of her.  I miss carrying her. I miss feeding her. I miss bathing her.  I miss her smile. I miss her eyes shining at me. The only time I’ve felt really pretty is when Libby told me I was pretty. I miss sleeping next to her and counting her breaths over and over again.  It is in the missing of her that I can be lost.  I held grief and fear at bay while taking care of her and loving on her.  Now, I have so much less to do.  Sometimes it is like a tidal wave of missing rolls through me.  My throat constricts and my heart races.   My eyes leak.

These Liberty attacks are still there, but now I try to breathe through them.   I acknowledge the missing has come for a visit.  I have to let this guest in, so that I can continue.  And I’m trying.    

What's Your Grief? has some great articles especially the information about secondary losses. 

Scars In Heaven - Casting Crowns (Lyrics)

You are loved.

Four Weeks

Happy end of February,

As of today, it will be four weeks.   Four weeks of feeling everything and yet nothing.  Four weeks of waking up and forgetting and then remembering.  Four weeks of missing Liberty and yearning to love on her one more time.  Four weeks of trying to understand what I'm supposed to do with all my free time. What am I supposed to be doing?  Loving and caring for Libby kept me very busy.  Now, I have a hole in my time. 

I have this recurring deep ache in my torso.  It feels as if there is a literal hole that burns and hurts.  Then I can't breathe. My throat clenches closed. I can't think past the unadulterated missing of her. Finally, the tears come. Eventually, I can swallow again. I'm calling them Liberty attacks. Like all things Liberty, I cannot predict when they will hit.

And it's okay.  It's good to feel the hard emotions too.  I spend a lot of time being numb which is beginning to fade- gracefully. My brain isn't holding some thoughts as long as it used to, grief fog is real for me.  I am blessed by the people I work and worship with as they continue to reach out to me and offer hugs and understanding.   It helps.  Not sure how to carry this grief, so I'll embrace all the support I can.  

I do not want to become stuck in the sad cycle.  I don't want to see my laugh lines become grief lines. Been holding my breath for many years, pleading to keep Libby here and healthy.  Think I need to find ways to love the life I shared with Libby and to continue to love life now. 

In the past, I have said "I am broken" after whatever painful event occurred, but I don't really think we become broken.  I think that we bend and bend and bend like a tree. And sometimes we may feel broken.

 

 

We, meaning me, tend to let the daily pains and/or struggles build up until we have to either bend or break.  As yoga and life have taught me, I get stronger when I bend.  Like the trees in the Texas Panhandle, we bend to the winds. When I think of the many ways I am blessed to be able to do so I have a small idea of the grace we are offered.    

Thanks to a student who told me about this cool kind of fixing pottery: Kintsugi.  There is a cool story attached to this method of filing in and then admiring the preciously scared broken pottery have.  The Japanese have found a way to fill in the broken parts of the pottery with gold, which is much like the grace offered to us.  You see, we may bend and sometimes break,  but with whatever faith we embrace, our scars can become beautiful opportunities to grow. https://www.lifegate.com/kintsugi is a cool site to check out.  This time of missing Libby makes me feel like I've been stripped of the powerful love we shared.  I need the reminder that she is with us- with me.  Taking Sparkles and Kitty out helps a lot.  These scars of missing her will be ones I wear with honor.  They will become what I showcase.   

While healing, I think it's a good idea to let life love us.

A song to help soothe https://youtu.be/nKBkdp_gCCs

Two weeks

Not sure that there any words to share how grateful I am to everyone who has prayed, meditated, saged, texted, called, emailed, came by, and attended the Celebration of Life memorial.  We are truly being held in the most amazing and needed embrace through many years, but especially in the last month.  

If you didn’t get it, here is the link that has the slideshow that Rachael put together, the playlist, and the obituary. 

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1psESxIHLfry3UPEagpR07Lz2SzTc_idT93UdUT2EdDA/edit

Truly.  Thank you. The last month was hard in an Sisyphean way.  

I wanted to share the last 26  hours with our girl.  This is not meant to be sad; it is shared with an open compassionate heart. 

Saturday, January 29 was a long, sad, and beautiful day.   We had so many people come to the house to sit with us and love on Libby.  She was able to FaceTime with my brother and one of her best friends in Happy. My beautiful cousin and her awesome husband came from Tulsa.  We spent the day eating, laughing, and some crying.  

This was day 11 of no eating and barely any drinking.  She was not really responding at all.  Her heart was still pumping, but she was leaving us. 

We all told her it was okay to go. 

Our night was restless.  Instead of every two hours, I woke up about every hour.  I’d wake up nervously, hand in her belly counting her breaths.  Counting and knowing how close to the end she was.  Rachael gave meds at 2:00 am.  At 4:00 she was struggling more to breathe.  This time her body was completely lax. 

At 6:00 am I have her meds and snuggled in for a little bit, then got up to start the day.  I’d been working out on the kitchen, quieter in there, and going in the check on her every ten to fifteen minutes.  I went in to check on her at about 6:45.  She was noticeably gasping in little breaths. I knew it was time and I couldn’t move.  I wanted to give her my breaths.   Inside I was screaming, “stay with me” and “don’t go” even though I knew it was time.  I muttered something about the promises we had made that she would let me know that she THERE and okay and  the promises our God has made to us.  

7:00 I went to get Rachael and gratefully she made it into the room for the last few breaths. 

We moved her into the living room onto her hospice bed.  It’s hard to explain how the emotions pours out and yet there was nothing.  Couldn’t breathe.  Couldn’t stop loving on her. Kept messing with the blankets and  other such bullshit. 

Notified our hospice team and waited.  

Her official passing is 9:00am. It took our wonderful nurse a while to get to Happy and get the paperwork started.  Our Spiritual Care Deacon/guru Mildred guided us wonderfully.    Cannot say enough about our hospice team!!

Most importantly for me was the cleansing and anointing that needed to be done. There is a beauty in the familial cleansing of our loved ones.  In the way many women have come together to prepare their recently departed loves. 

 With our sweet team and Grandma Linda, we sang her songs.  We cleansed her body.  We prayed to rejoice in her accomplishments.  We prayed to mourn the children, and love, and life she wouldn’t have in the mortal life.  We rejoiced for the love and accomplishments she will have in this next existence.  I let her go with my broken heart and full of faith in the promises given by the God of my understanding.  We sang on.  

We anointed her with oil that I have that smells like the mountains she will be flying over and beyond.  

We dressed her in her bright red shirt that had the Statue of Liberty on it and said “be a lady” because hell yes. 

It’s probably crazy, but I couldn’t stand anyone else lifting her.  I did it.  I tucked her into her blankets/sheets as I couldn’t fathom a man touching her.   My mommy powers were in full form. 

I helped place her in the van. 

I would have chased that van all the way to Canyon and demanded that she be given back to me, but it couldn’t happen.  She had already left.  

After the van pulled away, there was a group of birds flying over and I said, “Hi Libby.” And went inside.   

Rachael moved the hospice bed out of the living room and we took a few long deep breaths.  

https://music.apple.com/us/album/broken-horses/1577159552?i=1577159680   “Only broken horses know to run”   I can see her galloping away…..

The handwritten “I love you guys” is one of the last good samples of Libby’s writing.  And it’s true; she loves you all. 

Be blessed and know we all have the most special angel pushing us forward. “On and On”….