Fragile

 

 I lost a beautiful friend to sudden death this week. In the blink of an eye she was gone. Her family and all her friends will miss her terribly.

It transported me to the moments and days after Jack's accident and the profound disbelief and disorientation we experienced as our minds struggled to grasp what had happened.

It got me thinking about sudden death versus the long goodbye. It does no good comparing them and wondering if one is better or worse. They both suck.

But I still thought about them.

In sudden death, I think perhaps it takes longer to get used to the fact that this is not just a bad dream, whereas with a slow descent there may have been time to start to process that death was coming. I bet the end is a shock regardless.

There's  a lot of pain and sadness that accompanies the fight to keep someone you love alive. Even one week after Jack's death, I was already conscious of the fact that we had never had to go to a hospital with him, never had to step foot in an ER or ICU, never had to make decisions about artificial means to keep him alive. Instead, he was here, then the police in our family room were telling us he was gone.

While I yearned for the chance to say goodbye, to make sure I told him, once again, that I loved him and that nothing between us was left unsaid, I felt the relief of never having to convince him that procedures and treatments that were scary or painful could make him better. That he'd have to stay out of school and away from his friends to avoid germs. That his body was failing but his spirit was strong. I didn't have to lose Jack by degrees the way too many parents do, with the losses piling up day by day until a small body can't take it any more.

I pondered whether the "Wham, Bam, He's gone Ma'am" aspect of Jack's death was part of a plan to spare us because Tim and I were so ill-equipped to deal with complications. Second opinions. Research. We are both the youngest children in our families of origin and we tend to get hopeless and exhausted, daunted by even the smallest of tasks.

I used to joke that no one in our marriage was able to return pants. Or deal with customer service reps. So I wonder how we would have held up if faced with insurance companies and treatment plans and specialists if Jack had had cancer rather than being in an accident. Would we have done a good job caring for him?  I like to think we would do what parents do, despite the fear and exhaustion. Fight for our kids. Buoy them up when we have nothing left in our own reserves. But I don't know. So maybe God was sparing us that, most likely not.

I will say I think that whole, "God only gives us what we can handle" thing is a bunch of crap. Do we really think moms and dads with kids with cancer want to hear the flawed logic that their kid is enduring so much because Mom and Dad are just so darn strong?!? No way.

Our family got the shock of sending a perfectly healthy child out to play and having him never come home.  Yet Jack didn't have to know he would die young. We never had to look in those huge brown eyes and say to him, "Jack, it's okay to let go." I guess I'm grateful for that.

But comparing is useless.

Death is death and there is ALWAYS something so wrong about a child dying, whether from an accident, murder, or a terrible disease.


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I have dear friends who are involved with the following organizations. The first two come alongside families whose children are fighting cancer, by providing practical and financial help. The third funds research to find cures for Childhood Cancers. Perhaps you would be able to support them today!

http://www.stillbrave.org/home.html

http://www.fairygodmotherproject.org/

http://www.curesearch.org/

Everybody's Home Girl

Okay, so you know I've been laid up this week with a bum back. I am feeling 75% better, which is a huge blessing, and I fully expect to be back in business by the end of the weekend. I'm having trouble taking it easy, but I'm grateful I can now go to the bathroom unassisted and get up and down the 5 stinkin' levels of our house without wincing. Life is good.

The first night after my ridiculous refrigerator injury, there was a knock at the door. My friend Helen dropped off soup and dessert bars for my lunch the next day. She was running off to her son's baseball game, so we didn't get to visit, but my whole family stood there, mouths agape, as my beautiful friend pulled away. You see, Helen is recovering from cancer surgery and is gearing up for a tough 12 weeks of chemo starting next week.

I KNOW.

Sometimes my sister and I will say about someone, "She's not like regular people." That is our highest compliment for someone who goes way outside the parameters of what a normal person would do for others. I've known about 3 people like this in my entire life.

And Helen? Is. not. like. regular. people.

While I loved teaching high school, I lasted a measly 6 years! During the summers I'd hole up in my house, hoping to see no one between the ages of 13-18. It was as if I wanted to save myself up for the school year.

Helen, however, has been at it for 20 years, and she has an open door policy for students past and present. She goes to all the sporting events because she wants to, while sometimes I can barely drag myself to my own children's games. She loves her students and can't wait to get to school in the morning. Blood drives? Pep rallies? Guess who is in the middle of it all? She is a great listener, who takes it all in before saying anything, which is a gift.

And beauty? Helen is a hottie, inside and out, with or without hair. I've had more than a few girl crushes in my lifetime, but none as long-lasting as the one for Helen. While Amy Grant, Nanci Griffith and Gwyneth Paltrow eventually fell off my girl-crush throne, Helen has been a constant since I was a sophomore in high school! She's the only one who could truly tempt me to bat for the other team except, darn it, she's straight. I also suspect there'd be a long line in front of me! And as a mom?

Helen is a "mother woman." She mothers her 3 boys with warmth and grace. She glows when she talks about them. But her heart is HUGE and is big enough to mother others, too. Just recently she found out a mutual friend of ours was in financial crisis, so she quietly organized a huge fundraiser for our friend and her children. Each year she raises thousands of dollars for cancer research. Rather than holding her love tightly clenched in her fist, and saving it for those closest to her, Helen knows she has more than enough love to give away.

I remember when Helen got divorced. Even as she grieved, she comforted her friends. "I know this will take a while for you to process, Anna..." she said, patting my hand. Later, she gently released me from carrying a grudge against her ex, because she no longer held one herself. Wow.

Love, fun, faith, enthusiasm, mothering, reconciliation, a relentlessly positive attitude, and now beef and barley soup are all words that make me think of my friend Helen.

God made Helen special, and those special qualities will help her fight the crappy cancer that has come back after being gone 3 years. Helen's motto for kicking cancer's ass is: "DWELL IN HOPE."

So could you do me a favor and join the hundreds upon hundreds of Helen-lovers around the country? Could you pray for Helen as she enters treatment this week? Thank you.

Dwell in Hope!

Everybody's Home Girl

Okay, so you know I've been laid up this week with a bum back. I am feeling 75% better, which is a huge blessing, and I fully expect to be back in business by the end of the weekend. I'm having trouble taking it easy, but I'm grateful I can now go to the bathroom unassisted and get up and down the 5 stinkin' levels of our house without wincing. Life is good.

The first night after my ridiculous refrigerator injury, there was a knock at the door. My friend Helen dropped off soup and dessert bars for my lunch the next day. She was running off to her son's baseball game, so we didn't get to visit, but my whole family stood there, mouths agape, as my beautiful friend pulled away.

You see, Helen is recovering from cancer surgery and is gearing up for a tough 12 weeks of chemo starting next week.

I KNOW.

Sometimes my sister and I will say about someone, "She's not like regular people." That is our highest compliment for someone who goes way outside the parameters of what a normal person would do for others. I've known about 3 people like this in my entire life.

And Helen? Is. not. like. regular. people.

While I loved teaching high school, I lasted a measly 6 years! During the summers I'd hole up in my house, hoping to see no one between the ages of 13-18. It was as if I wanted to save myself up for the school year.

Helen, however, has been at it for 20 years, and she has an open door policy for students past and present. She goes to all the sporting events because she wants to, while sometimes I can barely drag myself to my own children's games. She loves her students and can't wait to get to school in the morning. Blood drives? Pep rallies? Guess who is in the middle of it all? She is a great listener, who takes it all in before saying anything, which is a gift.

And beauty? Helen is a hottie, inside and out, with or without hair. I've had more than a few girl crushes in my lifetime, but none as long-lasting as the one for Helen.

While Amy Grant, Nanci Griffith and Gwyneth Paltrow eventually fell off my girl-crush throne, Helen has been a constant since I was a sophomore in high school! She's the only one who could truly tempt me to bat for the other team except, darn it, she's straight. I also suspect there'd be a long line in front of me!

And as a mom? Helen is a "mother woman." She mothers her 3 boys with warmth and grace. She glows when she talks about them. But her heart is HUGE and is big enough to mother others, too. Just recently she found out a mutual friend of ours was in financial crisis, so she quietly organized a huge fundraiser for our friend and her children.

Each year she raises thousands of dollars for cancer research. Rather than holding her love tightly clenched in her fist, and saving it for those closest to her, Helen knows she has more than enough love to give away.

I remember when Helen got divorced. Even as she grieved, she comforted her friends. "I know this will take a while for you to process, Anna..." she said, patting my hand. Later, she gently released me from carrying a grudge against her ex, because she no longer held one herself. Wow.

Love, fun, faith, enthusiasm, mothering, reconciliation, a relentlessly positive attitude, and now beef and barley soup are all words that make me think of my friend Helen.

God made Helen special, and those special qualities will help her fight the crappy cancer that has come back after being gone 3 years.

Helen's motto for kicking cancer's ass is: "DWELL IN HOPE."

So could you do me a favor and join the hundreds upon hundreds of Helen-lovers around the country? Could you pray for Helen as she enters treatment this week?

Thank you.

Dwell in Hope!