You can't talk about death without talking about life. Poppy was 81 when he died a few weeks ago. I turned 40 this year. I am at the halfway mark. Of course, I may not live to be 81 but based on his age I am half way there. I look at the past 40 years and I think about how many ups and downs and turns my life has taken. I have read several books over the last few weeks both of them dealing with life journeys and death. I think about how my life has changed based on those two things. I am not the same person I was at 20 that is for sure. At twenty my whole life evolved around a boy and college. That was it. I wanted to marry the boy and I wanted to graduate from college. I did both of those things. I then wanted to have a child. That was a snag on our life journey. I experienced death before we were blessed with life. I had a miscarriage and nothing in this world can prepare you for that. Nothing. I was devastated. I did not even enjoy the first twelve weeks of my second pregnancy because I was terrified that death was looming. Little did I know at the time it was still looming. So after the death of our son, I was just never the same. Then 9/11 happened and I definitely was changed forever. I did not see the world the same. I was fearful of many things after that and paranoid at times. I really probably needed to see a therapist, but GOD has a way of getting you out of your funk. He moves you to a new place and you can make it good or you can make it bad. I went in a new direction for the good and this time it was a point of no return. At the age of 3 our oldest decided she wanted a sibling and so after months of begging we decided to start the adoption process. It was hard and at times heartbreaking for us. In retrospect it was really pretty painless compared to other people's journeys, but at the time I thought it was rough. We found our girl on an agency website right around New Year's Eve. I just fell in love and my husband was hopelessly in love with his Asian princess. Little did he know what was in store for him. The next five months went by fast and I was sick at my stomach the day that we left to go to China. I had no idea what we were in store for but my stomach was in knots. I lost part of my soul in a hospital room five years before and somehow I was feeling restored or at least it seemed that way. As our journey took us to the city of Xi'an I got more and more anxious, but it was less sick and more joyful. I don't know what our girl was thinking when she came in that room, but all I could do was cry. Mark was crying too and this time it was tears of joy. WE HAD LIFE BEFORE US AND IT WAS AWESOME. Our two girls checking each other out and playing with toys. The emotions were overwhelming. I was just in awe of that moment. I could not move much. I just absorbed it all in. I just looked at her and realized she was real and she was ours and it was really happening and I needed to absorb this moment. Neither of us went near her we just watched her and looked at her. We had both read stories and books and information. We wanted to give her space. We wanted her to feel comfortable with us. I just wanted someone to pinch me and tell me she was really ours and we would really be taking her home in 13 days. I just thanked GOD for her and just watched her every move. She probably thought we were crazy at the time. I was crazy in love with her. She represented life for us. I went out of my comfort zone on an airplane that I was afraid to be on because of 9/11. I just wanted to sit and look at her. That was all I needed. The money, the time, the effort, the everything came down to this. Just watching her play. That was good for me at that moment. It was everything to me. She was real and she was close enough to me that I could smell her. I did not need anything else. International Adoption is a crazy thing and if it does not change you nothing will. It is a GOD thing and it is real... as real as it gets. There is nothing more real than that. At the moment you lay eyes on your child you know that all of those pictures have real heartbeats behind them. There are 2200 children today on the waiting child list. These are not pictures these are little heartbeats of children waiting for someone to bring them home. They are not just somewhere on a shared list computer file. They are living, breathing, children that need a home of their own. My heart aches as I think back to the day we went to the orphanage. My girl was rotten. I am not going to lie to you. She had been spoiled based on orphanage standards and we got to see some of that while we were in China. She had some fits and she showed us what she was made of on more than one occasions. Each day our guide would ask us how everything was going. I found it odd. Later that week I found out that a week before we arrived a family had left their little one in China. They chose not to adopt their child. I don't know the circumstances, but all I can say is heartless. How does one human being do that to another? How do you do it? How? Please tell me. I could not for the entire week wrap my head around that and it still bothers me five and half years later. I just don't understand it. This child was a toddler. I don't get it. Still don't and only GOD will be able to explain it to me. So with all of the joy I had in my heart I smiled every moment. From the time we got up until the time we went to bed. Every day we dealt with temper tantrums and tiredness and whinnies from both children, but my smile rarely left my face. I had a smile for thrown food and poop diapers. My whinnie husband and his tiredness I did it all. Screams when we were touring I still smiled. My heart was not prepared for the orphanage. It just was not prepared for the magnitude of it all. I was not expecting what I saw and it is engrained in my memory forever. It will never, ever leave me. I think my husband prays each day that he could erase it, but it will always be with me and it hangs on my heart like a noose at times. The girls were taken from us at the car. Evidently word got out that the spoiled princess was on her way to the castle and the spoilers wanted to see her. They met us at the taxi and took her and her big sister with them. ROTTEN. They never put her down the whole time we were there. I got her back when it was time to go. They needed closure even though she was too young to need it. I got that. Other moms probably would not have, but being a high school teacher and dealing with teenagers, I totally got it. These teenage girls had raised her. They fed her and diapered her and held her. They loved her and she loved them. They needed to see her one last time to say goodbye. So, she and her big sister went with the teenage girls and Mark and I had paper work to finish. We were sent to an office where the only man on campus gave us a receipt for our contribution to the care of orphans. We gave him the money and he put it in their safe. I know my baby's money went to feed other orphans and not to the government. I saw it go in the safe myself. Pretty cool actually. We were given a bracelet with her name on it and many thanks. We returned the thanks and gave the director a small gift. He again thanked us and we were taken to the atrium where our girls were by now. This was like a huge entrance into the orphanage. It was open and it was four stories up to the ceiling. The winding staircase was right next to us. I had this little index card file with me. In it I had twenty parent names and email address and underneath each one I had a Chinese orphan's name. I went all over the building seeking out these children and taking their picture. I think the most heartbreaking was the first room I went to. I had my guide with me and told the women in the room which child I was looking for. As I sat on the floor in front of the baby gate I saw twenty little faces looking at me. They were all dressed the same and none of them had on diapers. They had little slits in their outfits and they just went to the bathroom on the floor and the ladies would clean up the mess. It was odd to say the least, but it was the culture and I got used to it. What I could not get used to was the shear number of babies in this room. It was a room of one year olds. They were all just beautiful babies and they all wanted to know what I was up to. I just sat and touched there little hands as they reached for me. It took just a minute for the ladies to point out who I was supposed to photograph. I took her photo and then they picked her up and I took a few more. I touched her little fingers and told her her mommy was coming soon. I went back to the floor and touched the hands of a few more cuties and then I had to go because this was only one of the twenty I was supposed to photograph. The baby rooms went all the way down the hall and I knew that somewhere in that hallway my baby spent her first few months here. I never found out which room, but I knew it was on that hall. I continued my quest to find the girls and boys I was photographing. I had studied the older age group for weeks. Every time a parent emailed me a picture I would study it and really focus in on the child and their features because I wanted to make sure I photographed the right children. I saw a group of four and five year olds that had gathered in the atrium for the events that would soon take place. They were all sitting in metal folding chairs and waiting patiently. I asked my guide to let the ladies know I was taking pictures for families in America. She helped me out. I first saw two faces I recognized and started photographing them. I spoke to a little man I recognized and took his picture. I could not stand it I had to touch his little face. I made him cry. He was real. He was not a picture I had in my file. He was a sweet-faced innocent little boy who was scared of strangers. He was beautiful and I wanted to hug him and let him know that his mommy was coming very soon, but I let the caregiver near by comfort him knowing that his cries would be comforted by his mommy in a few short months. I did this all day long. We were there about 3.5 hours and I took as many photos as I could. As I stood within the sea of children to watch the Children's Day celebrations I had an observer. I looked down and a severely handicapped girl sat in awe of me. She was fascinated by my video camera and by my camera. She was looking for attention and I had to take her picture. She was about 12 and she was what we called in school MOID. Moderate to severely handicapped. She had little function of her legs and she had a little drool issue. I assumed she had severe cerebral palsy but I never confirmed that with anyone. She was sweet and I wondered if she had parents preparing here to bring her home. I found out later that day that she was on the unadoptable list. She would never have adoption as an option. She would leave here and go to a nursing home to die. That was the reality of her future. Welcome to the real world outside of Georgia. Wake up to what the world has to offer a handicapped orphan. I still think about her and wonder if she is still in this world of if she made it to Heaven.
My oldest sat on the front row with a girl about her age. She was talking up a storm with this child and I just could not comprehend that her Mandarin had improved that much from earlier in the day. We found out later that Pippa knew English. My oldest was talking in English to an English speaking Pippa. We spent the next four years praying that Pippa would get a family. My oldest always hoping it would be us that brought her home. Last spring she finally went home to five brothers and four sisters. She had a huge family now. GOD answered that prayer in a big way.
As I talk about all of this I am reminded that on that particular day there were 550 children living at the orphanage. Each one waiting and hoping their family would come. How do you think they did that? How could the beautiful, healthy Pippa deal each day with the reality that another family had taken home their little one while she had to wait. She knew where she stood in the grand scheme of orphanage life. She was 10 years old when she came home. I met her when she was five. This is reality. I fell in love with a little man who was four years old on one of the many blogs I follow. He was a cleft baby too and he had the sweetest little face. The adoption agency that had his file had a video of him riding a bike. He was so cute. I begged Mark to bring him home. Money is always the issue but this momma's heart never gets that. I just wanted to bring him home. He was six months older than our Asian princess and he needed a momma and I really wanted to beg people to help us bring him home. I got a real no. I placed his little photo on the fridge and we prayed for him forever. I know it was months and months. I go through phases where I keep up with the adoption world and then I go through times where I just ignore it. I just can't bare to look at those little faces on the pictures because when have had the opportunity to touch one of those pictures up close and personal you realize that the pictures on the website are real children that live and breath and need a mommy and daddy. They don't want to be a picture on a website they really want to be somebody's child that gets tucked in at night and they want to be held when they are sick. They are real and they need a real home where people love them. So, little man sat on my fridge for months and finally his picture fell off the fridge and he disappeared. I prayed for sometime after that he would get a family and then he seemed to fade off of the agency website. I tried to find him a couple of times but he was gone. Last year he reappeared on another agency list. He was part of an older child camp some agencies do. He was still on the waiting child list and he had had three surgeries in China. Okay my baby has been through some cleft surgeries and they are painful. The thoughts of this boy enduring all of that pain alone made me feel awful. I just felt awful and there was some shame attached to it, too. I really did not have the nerve to look back at his file. I would check it every now and then to see if he had been matched with a family, but I no longer looked at the page that showed his face. I advocated for him on several blogs and I told people about his video and which agency had it. I did everything I could think of to get him a family and to this day I don't know if he ever got his family that he so deserved. I still feel awful. See if I had control of everything in my household I would have a house full of Chinese boys. They are the last to be chosen. Everyone wants to go to China and adopt a girl and people forget that the orphanages are full of living breathing boys. Little boys and big boys all needing a family to call their own. I read a recent interview with some orphan teens and it was truly heart wrenching to hear their stories. They know the day they turn thirteen that they will drop off of the adoption list. That is the end of the line for them. It is the saddest day of their lives. My nephew turned 13 this year and that is really all I thought about the whole month of his birthday. I just thought about how many 13 year old Chinese orphans spent the month knowing they had run out of time for a real family. It is just sad. I look at these little sweet faces knowing the clock is ticking and before they know it their time will be up too. So this is life for me. I am stuck. I can't seem to get past this. I want to bring more home while my husband says he is done. I want boys in this house of girls. GOD took my son and ten years later I respect the decision, but I still would like to raise a couple of sons. I think Mark would too, he just has cost issues. It is a good thing that he thinks about that because right now we would have six Asian kids and we would be living under a bridge somewhere with our kids in tow. I go with my heart and he thinks dollars and cents. Which is good, but I am getting older and the list is getting longer. Babies are now little boys and soon they will be teenage boys. I have literally watched children grow up on the waiting child list and I find it to be a hard pill to swallow. I wish I could have done more. I wish had some way of making this happen for us. Some way to bring these boys home. I have my eye on this little guy and some ladies on one of the blogs were talking about him today. He is a heart baby, but he is the cutest thing. He had surgery when he was a year old but he is not doing well right now. He is five and he is way past the time he should have had another surgery. Here he would have had four surgeries by now and he would be done until he was older. Unfortunately, an orphan can only hope that some charitable organization will find him and get him the surgery he needs. That happened for him at one and he went back to his home orphanage after he recovered. Today he is having issues and he needs a heart repair but he still waits. He is still cute as a button, but he is a tired boy because his heart is tired. I pray that his family will find him soon and bring him home. His little heart can't wait forever. He is one of thousands in the same situation. They need homes yesterday, but they still wait. My husband does not see what I see and what I know. Joey finds himself still waiting for someone to see him and want him for their very own. There is another little man that waits with no real medical problems but he continues to wait. He will be four on his next birthday, yet he waits. Why do they wait? Why? Because we have a hard time giving up our luxurious lives to help someone in need. We personally don't live extravagantly, but we like to do what we like to do and we like to eat out and we like to buy our girls nice things and we don't compromise much on that. I am not sure that we could afford another adoption or two but at this point I would be willing to find out. I just ache for these kids and even if I am putting my adoption blogs on ignore any Asian child I see reminds me that there are 2200 children on the Chinese waiting child list and 2 out of 3 are boys. So ignore the blog, but the heart still knows the stats. I can't erase it because it hangs like a noose around this living, breathing, heart. It is there and it is very hard to ignore. At some point the heart will be heard and GOD will place it in our face at a time we least expect it. I am not sure how either of us will respond but I pray we make our LORD proud. My life is forever changed by the journey I have taken so far. I have been down a path of life and death of death and life and death and life. It curves in and out like a snake slithering through the grass. At times I have felt the life knocked out of me and at times I felt GOD breath the life into me. I go day to day praying that it will end with me feeling some sense of accomplishment on the life side before death catches up with me again. I continue to believe and have faith that GOD has plans for me. He says so in Jeremiah. I am happy with my life, but I know there is more that I have to do for the glory of GOD. Our children are our legacy they are what we leave behind. We have to teach them the right thing to do in all circumstances. We have to be examples of faith and love and hope. We must show them what it is to live our lives for GOD. We must be faithful to GOD's word and we must live by His word. It is what keeps on the right path until He takes us home. So, I pray for His guidance daily and I pray He shows me the right path to take in all circumstances. I pray for the boys of China and I pray for my own heart and the noose that lives around it.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Part II: Death
On board I found myself sitting in the very middle of the plane. Like doors on my side and across the aisle from me in case they were needed. Middle of the plane. Across the aisle was a pilot going home for Christmas. He had finished his last flight of the year and he was heading home to enjoy the holidays with his family. I found this out because in front of me sat another reminder of life and death. A lady that appeared to be in her late fifties started a conversation with the pilot. She was a retired stewardess and she gave him some pins she had. She told him when she retired and informed him that she had been diagnosed with cancer and was on her way to a follow up after treatment before the holidays. He was obviously tired but he continued to talk with her until we started to take off. He was a tired and polite pilot. As we were all settling in and preparing for take off a man came up to my seat and asked if he could sit by the window. I thought by all means, you be the door keeper. Although I always have a plan when I get on an airplane. The pilot would be in charge if anything happened and the stewardess in front of me would be second in command. The way I saw it me and this guy sitting next to me had the best seats in the plane. I think my friend next to me was scared. It took him about ten minutes to realize we were at the emergency doors. He looked at me and said, "I am not sure this is where I want to sit." Too late, we are taking off. Dude you are stuck for at least take off is the way I saw it. So, this guy is afraid of flying/dying and the lady in front of me is on a journey to fight death herself and I find myself going to see death up close and personal. Weird.
I arrived at the airport and called Mark. Our flight was 8 minutes early, but he was already waiting for me in the car outside. Yes, outside in the car. I think he just had no energy at all. He was spent. At least I thought he was at the time. We went to the Waffle House because he was starving. He updated me on his family and how things were going when he left the hospital. We were both just in a weird kind of place. I was really out of sorts. I do remember him telling me thank you many times for coming and how much it meant to him that I was there. I could not think of any place else I would want to be at that moment. I was grateful that GOD got me there and in a timely manner. As we arrived at the hospital he once again let me know that what we were walking into was not a pretty sight. I walked in and said my hellos and just sat. Death was before me. I have to say that I have never ever been involved in a death watch. I am not sure that that is the accurate name for it, but this was all new for me. I know plenty of people who have been here, but not me. When I was 18 my great-grandmother died. She was in the hospital for days and I sat in the waiting room all of those days, but I never sat by her side and I never went in her room. I just waited and as family went in and out I sat with their kids or read college textbooks. I would keep family members company when they went to the cafeteria or I would make a coffee run for someone, but I could not under any circumstances go to her bedside. It was more than I could do at the time. I just could not do it. She lived with us for several years when I was little and I loved her with all my heart, but I could not bare to see her in the condition she was in. I have always had issues with this. When I was 10 my mother had major lung surgery. My father decided to bring us kids to the hospital. I was the only one that could come to the room. I walked in and my mother looked like death. She was washed out and she had these jars of blood on either side of her with tubes coming out and going somewhere into her body. It was the most horrific thing I had ever seen. At that moment I thought I would never, ever see my mother at home again. I just thought no one could recover from that. I never asked my father to go to the hospital again. I never ever wanted to go back to any hospital again. I was done. My mother did recover and she did eventually come back home, but she was out of commission at home for a while after that. I could not erase the memories of that moment. I remembered them with my great grandmother and again with grandmother when she passed away in 2001. I only went to the hospital to see her once and it was enough for me. I went on Easter so she could see my oldest and that was the last time I saw her or hugged her or talked to her. She died a few days later and we were seventy miles away out of town.
So I sat staring at death about to happen. Don't get me wrong. I know death. I have felt it. I have held death in my arms. There is no true way to describe it. I held death in the form of my son. I had his weightless body in my arms for what seemed like forever. I did and did not want it to end at the same time. That may seem confusing, but it is the truth. I did not want to let him go, but I wanted him to be alive. He was not and the weight of his little 5 pound body seemed a hundred pounds before it was all over. At one point someone thought it would be a good idea to have me hold him and his sister at the same time for a family portrait. Drugged and clueless I agreed to that. But once my oldest was placed in my arms the death of my son rushed over me like a flood. Life and death I held in my arms and I felt it. Lifeless and full of life in my arms at the same time. Up until then it was like a drug induced dream but the moment my living, breathing baby was in my arms I knew that death was also there and it was more than I truly could bare at the time. At that point I wanted it all to be over, over, over. I wanted out of that room and I wanted to be all alone. I wanted to grieve and be left alone. In my mind, I just thought LORD this is more than I can do, get me out of here, do something. This little baby is smothering me. I can't balance life and death at the same time. No mother should have to do this. I should not have to do this. Get me out of this and out of here. I was helpless in all of it. I had to bare it and endure it. I begged a priest to give my baby his last rites and I was done. I answered some questions the grief counselor asked me and I don't even know what I said. Inside I was screaming and praying at the same time. I wanted life and death to leave me and I wanted to be left alone. I loved my little girl with all my heart, but my heart was broken and I could not handle anymore. I think they rolled me to my room and then decided it was time for me to breastfeed. I don't know how and if that even took place. I was crazy and hormonal at that point and really, really tired. I just wanted to cry myself to sleep and I think I probably did. Mark was the strong one in all of it. He seemed less zombie to me. I was a hormonal lunatic that probably should have been kept on sedatives far longer than I was.
So as I sat looking at death happening before me, I remembered these little details of ten years ago and knew I had to endure this for my husband. Death watch is an odd thing and can be scary at times. My very verbal father-in-law was silent. I never in my life knew him to be quiet, even in his sleep. But now he was silent and with every three-four breaths he would just stop breathing. And you wait for him to breath again. As I sat there and as I think about it today, I remember all of the families, couples, we know that did this with their child. How did they survive it? GOD knew I could not and so my son died in the comfort of my womb with his sister two days before my scheduled c-section. He knew that was more than I could do at the time. When you loose a child you meet lots of people that have been through what you have in some way or another. I think it is GOD's way of letting you know that you are not alone. I appreciate it. It makes me feel better knowing that this person knows where I have been and I know where they have been. You form a common bond immediately. It happens every time I see a Caucasian parent with an Asian child. We have a common bond in this world that no one else gets but us. No one else. We get each other and we are not alone anymore on our journey through life. It is funny how just that little thing makes me happy because I know GOD is out there. It is a little reminder.
Again, I sit. I watch and I wait with my husband and his mom and his sisters. We sit until three am. Poppy continues to breath on his own, but he also continues to stop breathing. It is so surreal and yet peaceful. It is quiet at times as we all wait for him to breath again. You always have that pause and then he would start right up again. I don't know how many times I prayed he would breath again. I just could not bare to see him go so soon after I got there. I needed to know he was hanging on at least for a little while. At 3 my husband had been up for 20 plus hours and we had to go to the hotel. His mom and sisters decided they were staying the night. His sister could not leave him. She was still in her work clothes. She had not seen her kids since breakfast. They were with Mark's cousin fast asleep. My girls were also asleep at my Mom's house. We got to the hotel and I still could not really sleep. It was basically a pass out thing. I was so sleep deprived that I eventually passed out. I awoke at 8:30. Mark and I started showering and he spoke with his sister. I felt this was it. It is over. His sister said his breathing was getting slower and the pauses between breaths were getting longer. We should come to the hospital as soon as possible. After a small detour we arrived around lunchtime. His sister was still there and his brother came soon after with his wife. Poppy was breathing but the pauses were much longer and at any moment I thought it would be over. Death watch was new to me and not anything I had ever done in my life. I knew of so many people that had gone through this and I just could not for the life of me figure out how they did it. As I sat there. I looked at Poppy and thought how boisterous he had been the last time we were there. He looked tired even then but not anything like this. His personality was not tired the last time I saw him Thanksgiving week. He talked to Mark a few times alone, but mostly he hung out with all of us. It was always like that when we were there. Everybody came over and just hung out. We ate, we talked, caught up and he came in the room and livened the party up with some story or situation to share. It was always funny and crazy and he kept you listening to him. As I sat there I could not for the life of me remember his last story. I just don't remember our last family discussion. I know when we first got there he was mad because we forgot to bring him something and when he realized it he was mad at us, but he quickly got over it. After that everything was a blur. When you have four kids, two dogs, and six adults in one condo trying to talk, eat, and share it becomes a little chaotic and that weekend was no exception.
Several times Mark asked me if I wanted to be alone with Poppy to say goodbye. Each time I refused. I know that Poppy loved me and he loved my kids, but there was a time that I am not sure he cared for me that much. I know each achievement I had made him happy, but the happiest I ever saw him was when I became Catholic. He seemed genuinely pleased when he got that news. However, he still seemed distant until Will died. The next time I saw him after Will's death he just acted different towards me and treated me different. Maybe it was the birth of his granddaughter or the death of his grandson, but something changed and there never really seemed to be any distance between us again. He loved my oldest, but the first time he laid eyes on my Asian princess his world was rocked. She is a character and so was he and they just meshed. Two peas in a pod. She would do anything he put her up to. She went with him to the Chinese restaurant, she played the slot machine with him from the time she was two. When she was little she and her daddy and Poppy hung out the whole time we were in TN. They traveled around town and did their thing while my oldest and I had Mimi time. He loved her like she had always been with us and he always hated to see her go when it was time for us to leave. He would hug her and she would hug back. It was a special bond they had and I knew this would be hard for her.
So I sat looking at his lifeless face. I wondered how he would feel about all of this and what kept going through my mind was him. He was doing this on his time, not on the doctors, not on ours, but on his time. He was going to hang on until it was his and GOD's timing. We just had to wait. Typical Poppy. Mark left for a second and I looked at him and let him know I loved him. When Mark came back in, I felt compelled to write him a letter. I thought it was the right thing to do and at the time I had no idea he would be dead in two hours time. I just let him know that I loved him and more importantly I loved his son and always would. I just thought he needed to know that. I thought it was important at the time. I don't really know where the letter ended up, but I put it under his pillow and I felt better about the entire situation. Around 2:00 I reminded Mark that we had to be at the house to get his sister's girls. We said our goodbyes to his brother and sister-in-law and made our way to the door around 2:30pm. We went downstairs and both took a restroom break before heading to the car. We got in the car and 3 miles from his parent's house we got a call from his brother. He died at 3:07pm. 22 hours after he was taken off life support. Amazing. It happened so fast, but at the time it seemed that time was in slow motion. The next twelve hours were strange and in the middle of all of it I had to let my girls know over the phone. That was hard for me and I think it was hard for them too. That night we decided to eat Chinese together as a family at Mark's parent's house. Poppy loved Chinese carry-out and we ordered from his favorite place. We ate, we laughed, we sighed, and some of us cried. It was still just sinking in. No EGG FU YONG was ordered and no Poppy was there to eat it. Mark and I went back to the hotel to sleep. We went to bed early because the next day was going to be another long day. Let me say this. When I do something I am in it for the long haul. I chose to be Catholic and I did on my terms with GOD as my guide. We were married four years before I chose to convert to Catholicism. And when I converted I was in. That is it. No more conversions for me. I am Catholic and always will be. So, when I was told that Friday morning Mark's sister and mother were going to the crematory for a meeting, I passed. Mark really wanted to go and so I had him drop me off to shop. I apologized to Poppy, but I don't do crematories. EVER! I once worked next door to a crematory and I don't do crematories. EVER! The Catholic church now considers cremation an option, but it is not one for me. I am a Southern girl and a Catholic girl and I don't do cremation. We like our bodies to sit out at the funeral home for at least 3 days. It is always at least a three day event and its always with a casket and flowers. That is the southern way of doing things. PARLOR ROOM comes from our way of dealing with death. Later we moved to the FUNERAL PARLOR. This southern Catholic girl could not go on this trip. I told Mark that I had been out of my comfort zone for the last 36 hours and this I could not do. He understood and let me shop. Check card in hand I did some Christmas shopping and tried to focus on my girls for a little while. As I walked through the store, I thought about how many times I had visited this store on our trips to Knoxville. I thought about how each time us girls would go shop while Mark and Poppy would go get haircuts or visit his favorite places and see his friends. Many times the Asian princess would be in tow. Poppy had friends wherever he happened to be or go. He told good stories and people liked to hear him tell them. I think really that is all you need to make friends, a good story. They were mostly true and some embellished, but they were who he was and they were fun to listen to. At the beach Mark and I would sit up and talk to him until the wee hours of the morning. He would tell his stories and we would barely comment as we listened to his every word. Some were funny and some were sad, but they all seemed real to me. I feel like I got the essence of who he was during those times. He really seemed to give us a glimpse into his life in the wee hours. I don't think he has told me a story like that in five or six years. I had kids to deal with at night and he was getting older and too tired to talk at that late hour. I think he and Mark still talked some at night when we were there, but I am not sure what they ever talked about because I was not included. I don't think it was intentional it was just life. Life and death they both sneak up on you and you never are really ready for it. Life moves fast and death comes fast. It is just that way I guess. You have to make plans for Heaven everyday because it will be time when you least expect it I guess. I wish I had taken more time to listen to Poppy's stories that is my only regret. I loved him and loved him more because he gave me the wonderful man I married. He built character in my husband and a love for humanity that is awesome to witness at times. I don't think Poppy ever really comprehended who my husband really was because he did not get to see all of him. He only got small glimpses of him as a man. Poppy rarely had the opportunity to see Mark on the job or meet his co-workers. He never had the opportunity to see him save a life like I have. Blood on his hands with life and death before him. He has never seen him take food to a homeless person under a bridge or reassure a 3 year old in a Grady emergency room or give a homeless person all his money in his pocket. He did not get to see the son he raised sit with a priest and plan his own sons funeral. He didn't see him take showers while a crying toddler stood holding on to a shower curtain and watch his every move. He did not get see the love his son has for all three of his children. He did not get to see his son's face when he brought me a tombstone he designed himself for our son. He did not get to see this part of my husband. I hope and pray he got glimpses. I hope he knew what type of man his son has become. I hope he died proud of his son and the family we have created. I know he loved Mark and us and I know at this time Poppy is healthy and happy with GOD. I hope he is holding my son until I get there. We miss you Pops and you should know that this Christmas was hard for all us. We love you! We miss you!
I arrived at the airport and called Mark. Our flight was 8 minutes early, but he was already waiting for me in the car outside. Yes, outside in the car. I think he just had no energy at all. He was spent. At least I thought he was at the time. We went to the Waffle House because he was starving. He updated me on his family and how things were going when he left the hospital. We were both just in a weird kind of place. I was really out of sorts. I do remember him telling me thank you many times for coming and how much it meant to him that I was there. I could not think of any place else I would want to be at that moment. I was grateful that GOD got me there and in a timely manner. As we arrived at the hospital he once again let me know that what we were walking into was not a pretty sight. I walked in and said my hellos and just sat. Death was before me. I have to say that I have never ever been involved in a death watch. I am not sure that that is the accurate name for it, but this was all new for me. I know plenty of people who have been here, but not me. When I was 18 my great-grandmother died. She was in the hospital for days and I sat in the waiting room all of those days, but I never sat by her side and I never went in her room. I just waited and as family went in and out I sat with their kids or read college textbooks. I would keep family members company when they went to the cafeteria or I would make a coffee run for someone, but I could not under any circumstances go to her bedside. It was more than I could do at the time. I just could not do it. She lived with us for several years when I was little and I loved her with all my heart, but I could not bare to see her in the condition she was in. I have always had issues with this. When I was 10 my mother had major lung surgery. My father decided to bring us kids to the hospital. I was the only one that could come to the room. I walked in and my mother looked like death. She was washed out and she had these jars of blood on either side of her with tubes coming out and going somewhere into her body. It was the most horrific thing I had ever seen. At that moment I thought I would never, ever see my mother at home again. I just thought no one could recover from that. I never asked my father to go to the hospital again. I never ever wanted to go back to any hospital again. I was done. My mother did recover and she did eventually come back home, but she was out of commission at home for a while after that. I could not erase the memories of that moment. I remembered them with my great grandmother and again with grandmother when she passed away in 2001. I only went to the hospital to see her once and it was enough for me. I went on Easter so she could see my oldest and that was the last time I saw her or hugged her or talked to her. She died a few days later and we were seventy miles away out of town.
So I sat staring at death about to happen. Don't get me wrong. I know death. I have felt it. I have held death in my arms. There is no true way to describe it. I held death in the form of my son. I had his weightless body in my arms for what seemed like forever. I did and did not want it to end at the same time. That may seem confusing, but it is the truth. I did not want to let him go, but I wanted him to be alive. He was not and the weight of his little 5 pound body seemed a hundred pounds before it was all over. At one point someone thought it would be a good idea to have me hold him and his sister at the same time for a family portrait. Drugged and clueless I agreed to that. But once my oldest was placed in my arms the death of my son rushed over me like a flood. Life and death I held in my arms and I felt it. Lifeless and full of life in my arms at the same time. Up until then it was like a drug induced dream but the moment my living, breathing baby was in my arms I knew that death was also there and it was more than I truly could bare at the time. At that point I wanted it all to be over, over, over. I wanted out of that room and I wanted to be all alone. I wanted to grieve and be left alone. In my mind, I just thought LORD this is more than I can do, get me out of here, do something. This little baby is smothering me. I can't balance life and death at the same time. No mother should have to do this. I should not have to do this. Get me out of this and out of here. I was helpless in all of it. I had to bare it and endure it. I begged a priest to give my baby his last rites and I was done. I answered some questions the grief counselor asked me and I don't even know what I said. Inside I was screaming and praying at the same time. I wanted life and death to leave me and I wanted to be left alone. I loved my little girl with all my heart, but my heart was broken and I could not handle anymore. I think they rolled me to my room and then decided it was time for me to breastfeed. I don't know how and if that even took place. I was crazy and hormonal at that point and really, really tired. I just wanted to cry myself to sleep and I think I probably did. Mark was the strong one in all of it. He seemed less zombie to me. I was a hormonal lunatic that probably should have been kept on sedatives far longer than I was.
So as I sat looking at death happening before me, I remembered these little details of ten years ago and knew I had to endure this for my husband. Death watch is an odd thing and can be scary at times. My very verbal father-in-law was silent. I never in my life knew him to be quiet, even in his sleep. But now he was silent and with every three-four breaths he would just stop breathing. And you wait for him to breath again. As I sat there and as I think about it today, I remember all of the families, couples, we know that did this with their child. How did they survive it? GOD knew I could not and so my son died in the comfort of my womb with his sister two days before my scheduled c-section. He knew that was more than I could do at the time. When you loose a child you meet lots of people that have been through what you have in some way or another. I think it is GOD's way of letting you know that you are not alone. I appreciate it. It makes me feel better knowing that this person knows where I have been and I know where they have been. You form a common bond immediately. It happens every time I see a Caucasian parent with an Asian child. We have a common bond in this world that no one else gets but us. No one else. We get each other and we are not alone anymore on our journey through life. It is funny how just that little thing makes me happy because I know GOD is out there. It is a little reminder.
Again, I sit. I watch and I wait with my husband and his mom and his sisters. We sit until three am. Poppy continues to breath on his own, but he also continues to stop breathing. It is so surreal and yet peaceful. It is quiet at times as we all wait for him to breath again. You always have that pause and then he would start right up again. I don't know how many times I prayed he would breath again. I just could not bare to see him go so soon after I got there. I needed to know he was hanging on at least for a little while. At 3 my husband had been up for 20 plus hours and we had to go to the hotel. His mom and sisters decided they were staying the night. His sister could not leave him. She was still in her work clothes. She had not seen her kids since breakfast. They were with Mark's cousin fast asleep. My girls were also asleep at my Mom's house. We got to the hotel and I still could not really sleep. It was basically a pass out thing. I was so sleep deprived that I eventually passed out. I awoke at 8:30. Mark and I started showering and he spoke with his sister. I felt this was it. It is over. His sister said his breathing was getting slower and the pauses between breaths were getting longer. We should come to the hospital as soon as possible. After a small detour we arrived around lunchtime. His sister was still there and his brother came soon after with his wife. Poppy was breathing but the pauses were much longer and at any moment I thought it would be over. Death watch was new to me and not anything I had ever done in my life. I knew of so many people that had gone through this and I just could not for the life of me figure out how they did it. As I sat there. I looked at Poppy and thought how boisterous he had been the last time we were there. He looked tired even then but not anything like this. His personality was not tired the last time I saw him Thanksgiving week. He talked to Mark a few times alone, but mostly he hung out with all of us. It was always like that when we were there. Everybody came over and just hung out. We ate, we talked, caught up and he came in the room and livened the party up with some story or situation to share. It was always funny and crazy and he kept you listening to him. As I sat there I could not for the life of me remember his last story. I just don't remember our last family discussion. I know when we first got there he was mad because we forgot to bring him something and when he realized it he was mad at us, but he quickly got over it. After that everything was a blur. When you have four kids, two dogs, and six adults in one condo trying to talk, eat, and share it becomes a little chaotic and that weekend was no exception.
Several times Mark asked me if I wanted to be alone with Poppy to say goodbye. Each time I refused. I know that Poppy loved me and he loved my kids, but there was a time that I am not sure he cared for me that much. I know each achievement I had made him happy, but the happiest I ever saw him was when I became Catholic. He seemed genuinely pleased when he got that news. However, he still seemed distant until Will died. The next time I saw him after Will's death he just acted different towards me and treated me different. Maybe it was the birth of his granddaughter or the death of his grandson, but something changed and there never really seemed to be any distance between us again. He loved my oldest, but the first time he laid eyes on my Asian princess his world was rocked. She is a character and so was he and they just meshed. Two peas in a pod. She would do anything he put her up to. She went with him to the Chinese restaurant, she played the slot machine with him from the time she was two. When she was little she and her daddy and Poppy hung out the whole time we were in TN. They traveled around town and did their thing while my oldest and I had Mimi time. He loved her like she had always been with us and he always hated to see her go when it was time for us to leave. He would hug her and she would hug back. It was a special bond they had and I knew this would be hard for her.
So I sat looking at his lifeless face. I wondered how he would feel about all of this and what kept going through my mind was him. He was doing this on his time, not on the doctors, not on ours, but on his time. He was going to hang on until it was his and GOD's timing. We just had to wait. Typical Poppy. Mark left for a second and I looked at him and let him know I loved him. When Mark came back in, I felt compelled to write him a letter. I thought it was the right thing to do and at the time I had no idea he would be dead in two hours time. I just let him know that I loved him and more importantly I loved his son and always would. I just thought he needed to know that. I thought it was important at the time. I don't really know where the letter ended up, but I put it under his pillow and I felt better about the entire situation. Around 2:00 I reminded Mark that we had to be at the house to get his sister's girls. We said our goodbyes to his brother and sister-in-law and made our way to the door around 2:30pm. We went downstairs and both took a restroom break before heading to the car. We got in the car and 3 miles from his parent's house we got a call from his brother. He died at 3:07pm. 22 hours after he was taken off life support. Amazing. It happened so fast, but at the time it seemed that time was in slow motion. The next twelve hours were strange and in the middle of all of it I had to let my girls know over the phone. That was hard for me and I think it was hard for them too. That night we decided to eat Chinese together as a family at Mark's parent's house. Poppy loved Chinese carry-out and we ordered from his favorite place. We ate, we laughed, we sighed, and some of us cried. It was still just sinking in. No EGG FU YONG was ordered and no Poppy was there to eat it. Mark and I went back to the hotel to sleep. We went to bed early because the next day was going to be another long day. Let me say this. When I do something I am in it for the long haul. I chose to be Catholic and I did on my terms with GOD as my guide. We were married four years before I chose to convert to Catholicism. And when I converted I was in. That is it. No more conversions for me. I am Catholic and always will be. So, when I was told that Friday morning Mark's sister and mother were going to the crematory for a meeting, I passed. Mark really wanted to go and so I had him drop me off to shop. I apologized to Poppy, but I don't do crematories. EVER! I once worked next door to a crematory and I don't do crematories. EVER! The Catholic church now considers cremation an option, but it is not one for me. I am a Southern girl and a Catholic girl and I don't do cremation. We like our bodies to sit out at the funeral home for at least 3 days. It is always at least a three day event and its always with a casket and flowers. That is the southern way of doing things. PARLOR ROOM comes from our way of dealing with death. Later we moved to the FUNERAL PARLOR. This southern Catholic girl could not go on this trip. I told Mark that I had been out of my comfort zone for the last 36 hours and this I could not do. He understood and let me shop. Check card in hand I did some Christmas shopping and tried to focus on my girls for a little while. As I walked through the store, I thought about how many times I had visited this store on our trips to Knoxville. I thought about how each time us girls would go shop while Mark and Poppy would go get haircuts or visit his favorite places and see his friends. Many times the Asian princess would be in tow. Poppy had friends wherever he happened to be or go. He told good stories and people liked to hear him tell them. I think really that is all you need to make friends, a good story. They were mostly true and some embellished, but they were who he was and they were fun to listen to. At the beach Mark and I would sit up and talk to him until the wee hours of the morning. He would tell his stories and we would barely comment as we listened to his every word. Some were funny and some were sad, but they all seemed real to me. I feel like I got the essence of who he was during those times. He really seemed to give us a glimpse into his life in the wee hours. I don't think he has told me a story like that in five or six years. I had kids to deal with at night and he was getting older and too tired to talk at that late hour. I think he and Mark still talked some at night when we were there, but I am not sure what they ever talked about because I was not included. I don't think it was intentional it was just life. Life and death they both sneak up on you and you never are really ready for it. Life moves fast and death comes fast. It is just that way I guess. You have to make plans for Heaven everyday because it will be time when you least expect it I guess. I wish I had taken more time to listen to Poppy's stories that is my only regret. I loved him and loved him more because he gave me the wonderful man I married. He built character in my husband and a love for humanity that is awesome to witness at times. I don't think Poppy ever really comprehended who my husband really was because he did not get to see all of him. He only got small glimpses of him as a man. Poppy rarely had the opportunity to see Mark on the job or meet his co-workers. He never had the opportunity to see him save a life like I have. Blood on his hands with life and death before him. He has never seen him take food to a homeless person under a bridge or reassure a 3 year old in a Grady emergency room or give a homeless person all his money in his pocket. He did not get to see the son he raised sit with a priest and plan his own sons funeral. He didn't see him take showers while a crying toddler stood holding on to a shower curtain and watch his every move. He did not get see the love his son has for all three of his children. He did not get to see his son's face when he brought me a tombstone he designed himself for our son. He did not get to see this part of my husband. I hope and pray he got glimpses. I hope he knew what type of man his son has become. I hope he died proud of his son and the family we have created. I know he loved Mark and us and I know at this time Poppy is healthy and happy with GOD. I hope he is holding my son until I get there. We miss you Pops and you should know that this Christmas was hard for all us. We love you! We miss you!
Death Part I
Have you ever in your life had your whole world turned upside down in seconds? LIKE I mean seconds. Not minutes, no time to think, just move in slow mo. Like time stands still for a second or two for you to process and then it goes in to overload, chaos, nuts. You can't think straight and you are just wondering around in circles not really knowing what you are doing and what you are supposed to do next. It has happened to me twice. Not once, but twice. It is like life is going great and then the whole world stops and you are clueless as what to do or how to move beyond where you are at that moment. The first time this happened to me drugs were pushed in my I.V. and that helps you not have to focus. This time no such luck. I was excited Tuesday morning two weeks ago. I had one more day of full classes and I was ready to distribute projects to my little crew of artists and move onto my little peeps. I wanted all art projects on their way to Mommies and Daddies for Christmas. I love doing art this time of year and the kids get so excited about bringing their art work home to mom and dad. I let my little peeps wrap them and make cards. We have such a good time. It is so fun. Monday had been a great day. Everything had made it up stairs and out the door. I had photographed every upper grades project and sent it on its way. I was thrilled. I am never as prepared as I was this year. On Tuesday, I was ready for my day and I had wrapping paper and tissue paper and tape, cards, etc. all ready for my students to wrap it up and take it home. My room looked like Santa had been there and forgot to clean up his mess. It was insane how crazy it was now that I think about it. At 11:00 I was told to call my husband (for those of you who don't know my classroom is in the basement and I have no cell service down there). I went up and called him. He said, "my dad is in the hospital and he has had a massive stroke. It does not sound good, but don't worry. I am waiting to here back from my sister. I just want you pray for my dad. You know we have heard this stuff before. Just keep your phone handy and I will call you back as soon as I here from my sister. Just pray. Okay." Me: "I love you, please call me as soon as you here something. I will get to a phone. Just call me." I got this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I decided to find the girls and tell them to pray for Poppy. I just pulled them out of class and let them know that he was not doing well and he needed our prayers. That is all I could say because I did not know anything else. I cried for a second and prayed and went back to class. I just could not imagine Poppy was not going to be okay. He is one of the toughest men I knew. He has been sick with some ailment the entire time I have known Mark. He has had countless surgeries and has suffered all kinds of things including a stroke in 2001. I just knew everything was going to be fine. I went to class and did my best at keeping it together. I helped my students get there art work together and then around 1:00 someone came to my room and said, "I was told to cover your class you need to call your husband now." I went upstairs and called him. He was told by his sister to come to Knoxville immediately. The plan was to take Poppy off of life support at 5:30pm and they could not promise that he would make it until then. We cried, talked and cried some more for what seemed like a lifetime, but it was really just 15-20 minutes. I told Mark to just leave and I would figure out what we were doing later. He needed to be there with his family and I had a lot of loose ends to deal with in the next hour. Remember my room looked like Santa's factory where they wrapped gifts for last six months. It was a wreck. I came down stairs and two angels were in my room. They looked at me and said, "What do you need us to do for you? We will clean, we will straighten, whatever you need us to do we will help you." I looked at them and said, "Stay here, I have to go find my girls now." I found both girls and told them Poppy would not be coming home from the hospital this time. It was not a sickness that he could recover from. My youngest knew exactly what this meant. She looked at me and said, "Are they going to put Poppy to sleep like Elmo?" I said no, but that never really sunk in with her. She knew that when the doctors could not help Elmo, they put him to sleep. She knew that if the doctors could not help Poppy they were going to put him to sleep, too. She knew how this whole thing played out four months before and we buried Elmo in the back yard. She did not know where Poppy was going to be buried, but she knew it was going to be somewhere. She cried and she got it. My oldest cried but the reality of it all did not really sink in until days later. Kids are so different that way. I went back to my classroom in zombie mode. I said things to my helpers and I wished my students a wonderful Christmas and I spent the next two hours cleaning my classroom in this fog state. I had to prepare it for Christmas break and so I did all I could do and then left. I sent my youngest home with a friend. Her mother, just like my friends earlier, was a blessing. I called and told her I was picking up my youngest and she invited us to eat dinner. I was overwhelmed by everything and she sensed it. She just told us to come on over and eat before we went home so I would not have to worry about it. I thanked her but I never felt thanks was enough. I just was grateful the whole time. As 5:30 approached I waited for a phone call from Mark, but he did not call. I just figured it was all over and they were just hanging out as a family. As I was finishing my dinner, my phone rang. Mark said, "We have all had a chance to say goodbye, but he is breathing on his own. The doctor said it could be two hours or two days, there is no way to tell. He is brain dead, Kim. It is really bad here, really bad. He could die any moment. I want you to know that."
I had the kids finish up their meals and we said our goodbyes. I thanked my host once more and we went home. Home to do what I did not know. I thought pack, but I was not sure what to do at this point. I was still in my zombie state of mind. It was just surreal. Strange, weird, etc. I had my sister check flights for me earlier in the day. She had two in mind and I had her just hang for a few hours while I figured out what to do. I went home and started packing clothes. I threw things in the suitcases for the girls and my mom called to tell me she and my dad could bring us to Knoxville by car and we could ride back with Mark. I was a zombie and I agreed to that. I went upstairs and started packing for me and Mark called back. He said, "My mom does not think it is a good idea for you to bring the girls. She is tired and she does not want to have to deal with all that when this is over." I really did not know what to say. I was still in zombie mode. I just did not know what to do. I wanted desperately to be with Mark, but I could not leave my kids if something did happen. How would I be in two places at once? I decided I had to go to Knoxville and I had to leave the girls. My husband needed me and I felt at that moment I needed him too. I am not good with death and the dying, but I needed to go and go fast. In a split second decision I decided to fly out of ATL and go to Knoxville. In the meantime my children were prepared to drive 5 hours to TN. I broke the news that they were not going so quickly that it caught them off guard and they really had not time to think about it. I asked my dad to take me to the airport asap and on the way my sister booked me on the last flight out. I called Mark to let him know I would be leaving at 10 and would arrive at 10:29pm. You have to love mini-flights. I spent more time in the ATL airport than I did on the plane. It is really crazy. I have not been on a plane since China, so homeland security has stepped it up a notch to say the least. I thought they were going to put a baby through a security belt. They made little sleeping peanut get out of her comfy, cozy carrier so they could scan that carrier at 9:00 at night. Are you kidding me? Seriously? I can't believe they did not make her take off her little Robeez. She was three weeks old mom said and she was going to see grandma. I was too, but the circumstances were not about new life instead they were about near death. Just weird. Anyway, this took longer and I spent another 45 minutes in the airport at the gate waiting for my flight to land. I text my sister and asked her questions and waited. I also bought a 4 dollar yogurt. Welcome to Hartsfield. I pondered all of the insanity of my day and wondered what the night had in store. I asked GOD to get me to my destination safely and to be with my girls while I was gone. I asked him to help them both through the next few days. I then boarded my plane.
I had the kids finish up their meals and we said our goodbyes. I thanked my host once more and we went home. Home to do what I did not know. I thought pack, but I was not sure what to do at this point. I was still in my zombie state of mind. It was just surreal. Strange, weird, etc. I had my sister check flights for me earlier in the day. She had two in mind and I had her just hang for a few hours while I figured out what to do. I went home and started packing clothes. I threw things in the suitcases for the girls and my mom called to tell me she and my dad could bring us to Knoxville by car and we could ride back with Mark. I was a zombie and I agreed to that. I went upstairs and started packing for me and Mark called back. He said, "My mom does not think it is a good idea for you to bring the girls. She is tired and she does not want to have to deal with all that when this is over." I really did not know what to say. I was still in zombie mode. I just did not know what to do. I wanted desperately to be with Mark, but I could not leave my kids if something did happen. How would I be in two places at once? I decided I had to go to Knoxville and I had to leave the girls. My husband needed me and I felt at that moment I needed him too. I am not good with death and the dying, but I needed to go and go fast. In a split second decision I decided to fly out of ATL and go to Knoxville. In the meantime my children were prepared to drive 5 hours to TN. I broke the news that they were not going so quickly that it caught them off guard and they really had not time to think about it. I asked my dad to take me to the airport asap and on the way my sister booked me on the last flight out. I called Mark to let him know I would be leaving at 10 and would arrive at 10:29pm. You have to love mini-flights. I spent more time in the ATL airport than I did on the plane. It is really crazy. I have not been on a plane since China, so homeland security has stepped it up a notch to say the least. I thought they were going to put a baby through a security belt. They made little sleeping peanut get out of her comfy, cozy carrier so they could scan that carrier at 9:00 at night. Are you kidding me? Seriously? I can't believe they did not make her take off her little Robeez. She was three weeks old mom said and she was going to see grandma. I was too, but the circumstances were not about new life instead they were about near death. Just weird. Anyway, this took longer and I spent another 45 minutes in the airport at the gate waiting for my flight to land. I text my sister and asked her questions and waited. I also bought a 4 dollar yogurt. Welcome to Hartsfield. I pondered all of the insanity of my day and wondered what the night had in store. I asked GOD to get me to my destination safely and to be with my girls while I was gone. I asked him to help them both through the next few days. I then boarded my plane.
Life and Death
It funny to me how loss makes you think more about life in general and the loss of life. I have spent the last two in this nowhere area of me. It is like zombieville. I enjoy Christmas so much, but I knew something was missing. I have not felt this way since I lost my son in 2001. It is a weird feeling, you want to enjoy the celebration of it all but you don't feel like you should. It is like there is something wrong with celebrating it so soon after you have lost someone. It is just a weird and unexplainable feeling. I may spend the next week working on this one topic so if you are out there reading it bare with me. So weirdness for me comes in groups. Mark gave me a book while in TN to read. I started it there and finished it right after Christmas. It was about death and dying. Then in our family gift exchange I got another book that focused once again about life and death. More death than life. It is strange how a theme just hangs over you for a while. It just won't seem to let me go. I thought today about taking down the Christmas decorations now that we have celebrated the birth of our LORD, it is time for us Catholics to start the focus on His death. Life and death again shows up in my head. Weird. So this will be at least a two part deal and maybe three. I will start with how the last three weeks have been and then work my way to my thoughts on the future.
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