Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Psalm 29:11 says that, "The Lord will give strength to His people; the Lord will bless His people with peace." I have been given strength beyond understanding these last 19 months; I have been blessed with a peace that I can't explain.

I can't trace God's hand right now, but the peace I have lets me trust His heart.

God has given us much grace these last several months, but specifically this past month. Our family has endured some difficult days as we had the birth of our new daughter, Rachael, only to be followed with the physical death of Rex just two weeks later. It is my prayer that my children will be able to grieve the loss of their dad and still know that God is in control and loves them. It is my prayer that they will know that God has not forgotten or failed them; I want them to understand that God has a plan specifically for each of them through this and that it is a great plan.

We were able to get away for several days after the funeral and take a trip to the beach. My dad had had this trip planned for several months for himself. Had that trip not already been planned, I would have never thought to take a trip for us; even that was God's timing. I believe that it was the best thing we could have done; it helped our family with the transition. I don't know what the day after the funeral would have been like for us had we not gotten up to pack for a few days at the beach.

I have tried to be acutely aware of my childrens' needs these last two weeks, so that I can meet their needs in the best way possible. Erin has been my protector. She, being the oldest of my children, has taken it upon herself to try to meet my needs by helping me with things that Rex would have done. She tries to protect me emotionally from things that might trigger me missing Rex. I have to release her daily from trying to carry such a big responsibility. Amber is my reflector. She wants to reflect on everything that made our life a family. She is pulling out memories from all over the house and talking about each of those memories. She smells his clothes. She writes notes. She gets affirmation from remembering. Lindsey is my thinker. Surprisingly, she has talked the most of Rex. She asks lots of questions about her daddy. She is acutely aware of things that surprise me for a 4 year old. For instance, Lindsey threw her hands up one time and said "Great, now I can't get saved or baptized." She was remembering that her daddy had baptized both Erin and Amber; in Lindsey's mind, that meant that she couldn't participate because her daddy wasn't here to baptize her. She is thinking things through, processing what it means for daddy to be gone. Rachael is our therapy. There is no doubt in my mind that God allowed her life to offset the loss of life, not to replace Rex but to bring healing to our hearts, to bring each of us joy in the midst of sadness.

I have had a lot of time to reflect over these past several months myself. I know it's not productive to dwell on "what ifs" or "if onlys", but I suppose that sometimes it's normal to do so. I have only had a few of these; one of my big "if only" moments was me feeling like I had failed Rex as a caretaker by not recognizing how close to death he was and not taking him to the hospital sooner. I felt that I had done him an injustice by not getting him some medical care sooner. I know that God numbers our days; I believe that regardless of anything I could do or could have done as Rex' caretaker, when God says it's your time, it is your time and nothing can interfere with that. Still, I felt I had failed Rex by not getting him medical care that could have spared him some uncomfortable time and allowed him to feel a little better at the end. Our family dr. reminded me this past Monday that Rex died exactly how he wanted. He spent his last days at home with his family, but he didn't die in our home. I found great comfort in that truth.

I had actually thought about the likelihood of Rex' death over this past month, and I was concerned about him dying in our home. I didn't want him to die in our home. I didn't want my kids to always remember every time they were in our home that their daddy died in that chair or that bed in that room. My mom died in this home; even though I was an adult at the time and didn't live in this home then, it was a memory I carried with me for a long time every time I came to visit. It still bears strong thoughts for me when I think of her. Having that memory myself, I didn't want that for my young children knowing that we are probably going to be living here a long time. I fretted a little about how things were going to pan out because I also didn't want Rex to spend a great deal of his last days in a hospital. God had it all worked out; He took care of my concerns.

Another "if only" moment had to do with something that I wanted to carry with me should he die. I wanted to have his voice saved somewhere that I could hear anytime I wanted to remember him or feel close to him. I remember the last couple of months that he was alive thinking that I needed to save a voicemail from him on my cell phone so that I would have it. But, I thought there would be another time, so being the organized person that I like to be, I deleted them as I checked them. Last week, I was upset with myself because I realized that I had not saved any of his voicemails. Then, when we got home from the beach, Erin picked up Rex' cell phone because she wanted to look at the flix (15 sec. videos) that were on his phone. I didn't think anything of it; most all of them were taken by the kids of themselves. There was a new video that we had never seen. The last video was one that Rex had made; he had taken it on July 13th, and it was a message to me. All he says is, "Donna, I love you, I really do" and then he smiles. I lost it when I saw that. Rex knew me well, and he knew that I would want to carry that with me. He was thinking of me. I sent that video to my phone so I can carry it with me.

I think there is a difference between losing someone through an accident or sudden unforeseen event and losing someone through a long term or even short term illness. Illness gives loved ones a chance to say goodbye; illness gives you a chance to express your love to one another; illness gives you a chance to savor the day. Illness gives you a chance to realize what is important and change priorities where necessary. Illness gives you a chance to have no regrets. Illness makes losing someone a gradual loss instead of a sudden one.

We gradually lost Rex from October 2006 to July 2007. Even though he was diagnosed January 2006, we really didn't see a loss of life at all until October when he started experiencing pain. Then, as weeks went by his pain increasingly got worse, his physical health deteriorated more and more, he got weaker and weaker, and he became more and more symptomatic. Rex' last three months, truthfully, gave us a taste of what life was going to be like without him as the girls and I began to do some things without him. There were times we went to family gatherings that he didn't feel up to attending; there were times we went to church when he didn't feel well enough to go; there were times we played while he sat or slept. Because of this, I think it may take a little longer for the numbness to wear off or longer for the reality of the loss to sink in. For me, I have stayed very busy caring for a newborn and haven't had much time to sit let alone grieve. My thoughts are continuously on Rex all day long, but my grieving has barely begun. I find it very hard to have a conversation without talking about him. It seems like every topic of conversation sparks a memory of him.

Continue to pray for our family as you have been so faithful to do. I feel God's presence and protection around us each day.

I don't know what the future holds, but I do know who holds the future. I am looking to God to direct my path in the days ahead. Who holds your future?

Donna Meadows