Mar 29, 2020

Birth, Death, Joy, Grief (5)

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future

To a known God”

·      Corrie ten Bloom

My wife of 58 years (June 10, 2019) and best friend Eileen had been diagnosed with terminal cancer of the esophagus, in February 2019. Eileen died on February 22, 2020, the day following the birth of our latest granddaughter Maria, and the funeral was March 4, 2020. This blog gives my thoughts, fears, prayers, and hopes during this challenging and difficult time looking at the space in my life.

03/29/2020  Time marches on, if I want it to or not. The days slip by; it does not help that the carona-19 virus keeps us home-bound. Everything reminds me of Eileen, as the house and its contents were of her design and choices. Pictures are all over the house, and this keeps me grounded and filled with joy and sadness at the same time. I have started to review the journal entries over the past year, so these thoughts reflect that review as well as present place.

I am not sure if the confinement at home helps the grieving process or hurts. Everything here reminds me of Eileen, but then everything that reflects on what we did as a team does also.

It is ironic when I read the first few blogs in this series that it was almost one year to the day of her death that we were told that she had cancer. We did not know the extent at that time, but we were aware that recovery of this type of cancer was low, as her brother Jim and uncle had died from the same cancer. A couple of weeks later we learned that it was terminal as it had already spread, or at best a verylow chance of recovery. Eileen chose palliative care, which started the next day. Our stance then, as now, was to place all our trust in God, knowing in our hearts that life has both a beginning and an end, and trusting that Eileen would remain in reasonable comfort along the way, if this marked the transition time. The path forward unfolded as time went by. Our daughter Barbara decided she could work part-time from our house, and she started her routine of coming to our house on Sunday eve, and returning on Wednesday, which continued until Eileen’s failing health brought her here full time.

Looking at the blogs, we quickly moved to establish a baseline of the future, obtaining the headstone for the gravesite, which we had purchased just the year before, at Eileen’s insistence. Premonition? I believe so, as Eileen had methodically set the entire house to her liking over the previous year, even buying the paint for the one bedroom she was unhappy about. (Barbara and Eileen painted it, and that is the room that Barbara has set her office in.) It is a bit scary the way Eileen had prepared things, even her bonsai, getting all to the point where she was basically happy with their state. Now I have the task of maintaining their beauty.

We also visited the funeral home and discussed Eileen’s choices, even picking out the vase that would hold her ashes. We obtained all the forms and filled them out over the next weeks, taking our time as we had time to spend. All of this made the time of transition much simpler, as most details were already completed.

Life continued on the path, each week seemingly unfolding with a plan of its own. So often we had little control, and the nurses and doctors we dealt with at the UHS cancer center were unfailingly cheerful and helpful, ready to spring in quick response if needed.

I find this looking back, as I write this, to help me to see the unfolding of God’s plan in our lives, if we choose to trust in the goodness of God. My love for Eileen seemingly multiplied during this time, and we continued to draw ever closer over the year, to the point where I could let her go on in her journey without regret.

Meditation

Oh God, this time of healing and loss, both with my loss of my beloved and the healing of our world in this time of fear and loss, is one that we all go through at the end stage of life. Most of us left behind will continue on our journey, hopefully more aware of one another than before, but with a deeper knowledge that life is limited, that death is ever-present and is our destiny and is but a breath away, and that we all need to be able to touch one another as part of our existence. Thank You for this gift of sight that is most profound.