You the reader could have predicted this post.
I write to process. Right now there is a lot to process. The most important in my mind being the loss of a great Friend. Reality Hits.
Beginning of the End
Her brain tumor had been in check for a while. She stayed fairly stable for several months. Maybe very slight signs of decline could be seen, but for the most part she made sense with her words and could get around the house as she pleased. And then one day, she couldn’t.
The last few weeks she started going downhill pretty fast. It seems like she went from walking and talking to slow walking, to slurred speaking, to sleeping most of the day, to walking only with help, to words not understandable, to wheelchair bound, to not talking, to not getting up at all- all in a matter of a week or a little more.
She had a young body with a young heart. Only 50 years old. It seems that strong body would have held on for longer before it waived its white flag to the brain tumor. The hospice nurse certainly thought so. Approximately two weeks before Friend died, the nurse thought she had a couple months to live. The next week she thought Friend had a couple of weeks. The day before she died, the nurse predicted 4 days to a week. But God had other plans.
A Blessed Last Few Days
If a person has to die of a brain tumor, the end went pretty smoothly for Friend. She had no pain. She ate and drank until the week she died. Mostly she recognized everyone who visited her. She was only bed bound for a few days. The end was peaceful and drama free. She had only one visible seizure about an hour before she died. To me that is amazing for someone who has a tumor filling her head.
Trading One Hurt For Another
Admittedly for me, the day she died brought a bit of relief. We all knew the end would come soon, and not knowing how that would take place brought fear and anxiety. Seeing her decline a little more each day was heart wrenching. Her poor family who cared for her daily were wearing out physically and emotionally. And of course Friend suffered a lot.
So when all the suffering ended, a burdened lifted off everyone. Friend resides in a better place. The hard “unknowns” are known. The waiting is over and lives can move on.
But a different kind of hurt takes the place of the waiting and unknowns and suffering. The recently sick Friend is gone, which can be accepted. But reality hits that the real Friend, the well, active, loving, laughing, caring Friend that we all knew for years is also gone. And that proves much harder to swallow.
Reality Hits
Better now, Friend dances in the streets of heaven. She is better off, right? I could tell myself this until I go to the funeral. There boasts all of the pictures, the ones depicting her life as a perfectly well mother, sister, wife and friend. Her smile beautiful, her eyes sparkle. Over the past couple years of her illness, I had kind of forgotten who she used to be and how much of her person will be missed. Seeing the pictures makes losing her even more difficult. How devastating that the world lose such a valuable and needed woman. Funeral day is a rough one.
On top of the raw grief, those who love Friend can’t gather in an informal group to support each other. We go to the funeral which is already restricted because of Covid-19, but because of the same virus threat we can’t hang out, talk about our loss, our Friend, our hurt. We pay our respects, shed some tears and return home to wallow in our individual grief. Yet another way Covid-19 wreaks havoc.
Return To Normal Life?
So now we return to normal life that feels anything but normal. We have no choice but to go on, trying to function with heavy hearts and clouded minds. This newly altered life will become normal someday I suppose, but many adjustments, realizations, and much learning will take place before then.
Those who love her will have to get used to the fact that her kids don’t have a mom, her husband lacks a partner, her siblings don’t have their youngest sister and her friends don’t have a rock solid example of a great Christian woman. She won’t be seen cleaning the church across the street or wandering the school hallways. No one will see her blonde hair in the driver’s seat of her gold van, working in her flower beds or mowing her yard.
So many thoughts and realizations to come. These are just some initial ones. Can’t really comprehend this great loss. No one can fill her shoes.
