My Dad’s sister was born June 21, 1944…She was
the oldest sibling, he being born 2 years later. They were close growing up
& my Dad looked up to her. They lost their Mom suddenly, tragically, when
he was 18 & she 20. This was devastating for both of them & for her,
losing her Mom meant losing her best friend.
Life was hard after that. Her Father remarried
quickly, which was often the case in those days. She spiraled, trying to move
on with life but trapped by grief & depression. She became pregnant by
accident but decided to keep the baby, though unheard of in that day & age.
Her father was mortified but she so deeply wanted to be a Mother, she didn’t
care.
The early weeks were rough, she was very sick.
The Dr advised that if she made it to 12 weeks, she’d be in the clear. At 12
weeks, she went out & bought a beautifully soft, yellow sleeper for her
baby. That evening, the pain started. She didn’t know what was happening. She
had vicious cramps & then they would subside only to come back stronger
& harder…then the bleeding started…
She went to the hospital & was told the
fate of her baby…she was devastated. Her heart had bled out of her along with
that babe. Her Father arrived, patted her hand & said it was for the
best…& she died inside.
Time passed & she struggled with her grief
& pain…depression gripped her.
Then her Father got sick…& he died. Their
relationship had been strained at best & forever fractured…& then he
was gone before they could reconcile.
You pile grief upon grief & pain upon pain
& what is a person to do?
She broke…she wanted to die. She swore she
wasn’t suicidal…she just wanted to die. She was admitted to the psychiatric
ward.
Slowly, with therapy & the love of her
Mom’s best friends, Margaret & Harry, she became stronger…she reentered the
land of the living.
She loved…& lost…& loved again. She was
married & she was happy. She tried to be the best step mom she knew how to
be…but the pain of not having a child of her own haunted her.
In 1983 she was diagnosed with cervical cancer.
She faced surgeries, radiation treatments, chemotherapy…odds at the time said
she was unlikely to survive…but she did. It was then that she decided to really
start to live life…she would stop being scared…she would start taking chances.
She started to travel & spent the next 30
years planning exotic & exciting trips…sometimes with others, often on her
own. She travelled all across Canada, the USA, South America, New Zealand &
multiple trips to the UK & Europe. Destinations would come up in
conversation & she would say, “Oh! That place is on My List!!”
Her other passion was her dogs. Her firsts were
Jordie, a west highland terrier & Murphy, a Golden Retriever. She loved
Murphy but Westies were more her speed so after they passed came Tessie, then
Kodi, another Murphy & finally Dolly.
Life was finally good for her. After so much
struggle & pain & loss…she had arrived. Whenever I faced adversity, she
would knowingly say, “It gets better, I promise.” Because she did know, she’d
lived it.
December 17th, 2013 all that changed. 4 weeks after that, we saw the Oncologist. We were told her biopsy was
inconclusive but that she most likely had advanced cancer of the pancreas or
other part of the upper gut. She was brave & at peace with this news. She
told the Dr she hoped to celebrate her 70th birthday in June…the Dr
asked if she could move it up.
4 weeks after that had me
sitting by her bedside in hospice. She could no longer speak, she could hardly
move at all & her eyes were her only means of communication. I sat with her
all day, talking to her, holding her hand. I played her favourite music for her…I
read to her. That night I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I’d promised her she
wouldn’t have to go through this alone. The hospice staff set up a cot for me…I
laid down to try to sleep. I was acutely aware of her breathing, the noises of
the room, the nurses coming in & checking on her. Despite this I felt
myself drift off to sleep...but every time I did, it felt as though someone
would yank on my shoulders, waking me. Then all of a sudden, I felt a change in
the room, it became very quiet. Her breathing had changed, much more shallow
& also very quiet. I got up from my cot, checked the time, 3:32am. I went
over & took her hand. I put my other hand on her forehead, as had become my
habit in the last few weeks. It was so quiet…suddenly she took a deep breath,
scaring me...I whispered, "Good bye, Lee. I love you" & knew in
that moment she was gone.
8 weeks...how a woman so vibrant & full of life can be gone in just 8 weeks is so confusing to me...
