In
April of this year (2017), one scan didn’t come back clear. Your lung cancer
had returned…the same kind & stage as the last time. Except this time,
there was to be no cure, no complete healing…only hopes for periods of
remission. Ever since this diagnosis, we’ve set out to bring you to your first
period of remission, battling this beast with the same chemo cocktail that
proved effective against it the last time. Except this time, you were in a much
weakened state of health. This time, the week after completion of your 2nd
round of chemo, your body gave out & you ended up in the hospital. After 2
weeks in the hospital & 3 weeks at rehab to try to gain your strength back,
we decided to bring you back home where you felt more comfortable. We
apprehensively awaited your next oncologist appointment to find out the next
move in your treatment, but I believe we all instinctively knew what that next step
would be. Your body was so very tired from the fight & too weak to be able
to withstand any further treatment. Wisely, the oncologist referred you to Hospice.
This
is where we are today. One week ago, you decided to go under the care of our
local Hospice. Even though you desire to get better, your body is working against
you. It is tired & cannot endure anymore harsh chemo treatments. Although
it has been tough watching your health go downhill, I cannot even begin to
imagine what it must be for you to go through this decline, to know that the
cancer in your body will one day overtake you, to feel yourself slipping away. My
heart has ached at seeing the once vivacious redhead be taken over by a disease
that shouldn’t have a part in anyone’s world. I’ve watched you be embarrassed
by things that come with the progression of cancer & I’ve longed to shield
you from that. To clear away the cobwebs of confusion from the mind of a once
witty, sassy, funny woman. To be your legs when you can’t stand or walk. But I
can’t.
And
this is where I am today. Ever since the decline of your health has been an
issue, but much more so lately, I have had been in turmoil with myself, trying
to reconcile those demons that we all have floating around us from our childhood
& past, with the reality of today. I want you to know that I have won this
battle…I choose to see the good in things that once were thorns in my side. I want, desperately need, to take a moment to let you know what
has been on my heart. I don’t ever want the pain of regret to loom over me when
the time comes to tell you goodbye should anything be left unsaid. I want to
tell you what I’ve learned about you, about me, through all of this.
One
of the biggest things I had a hard time with growing up was living with my
grandparents & not you. Not that I didn’t/don’t appreciate or love
living with them, but you know kids…they can be cruel. I used to get picked on
in school because my grandmother used to come to all of my school functions,
not my mother. When kids found out that I lived with my grandparents, not my
mother, they were harsh with their words, calling me “unwanted” or “thrown away”.
I know that there were so many factors behind my brother & I going to live
with Grandma & Grandpa, decisions that had to be made on your part that
could not have been easy to make, especially in the situation you were in. I
see now that this was raw maternal instinct at its finest, protecting ones “cubs”
when threats of harm come their way. Living with my grandparents gave me so
much more than a safe place to sleep. I got an extended family, an aunt & uncle
that were there throughout most of my younger years, who helped raise me. Most
kids only have their moms & dads, getting only weekend, or holiday, visits
with their grandparents & aunts/uncles, but not me! I got the privilege to
have 4 extra people step into the roles to help build me into the person I am
today. Most importantly, Grandma’s & Grandpa’s love of church gave me the
foundation for a relationship with Christ…one that I wouldn’t accept until much
later in life…but one that kept drawing me back until I surrendered my life to
Him.
Money,
or lack thereof, as a child can be devastating. I’m not necessarily talking
about not having basic needs, although there were times that was close to
reality. No, what I’m talking about is just not having the “it” stuff: the
clothes, the shoes, the hairdo, the car & house. Let’s face it: growing up
is hard & when you have to do so in an extremely materialistic society, it’s
downright impossible. I remember being so embarrassed by our constant
breakdowns, or the black smoke or awful rackets that used to come from some of
the cars we’ve had. I used to hate anyone coming over to our home because it
was so inadequate (in my young teenage mind) or inferior to my friends. And my
clothes…well, we don’t even have to go there, do we? This scarred my childhood…so
I thought...no, let’s be honest, it did. And don’t even get me started on that
brat of a younger brother I had to watch a LOT because you had to work &
the pain-in-my-behind older brother who used to like to beat me up! And the
absent father or the next step-dad that was sure to leave? Yep…again, the
taunts of “not wanted” would rise up from my classmates. These things caused so
much pain, pain that would take years to go away, or at least make me become numb
enough to fake it.
I
look back on that now & all I see, all I choose to see, is a single mother
doing her best to raise 3 very unruly, hard-headed children. We didn’t have the
best, we didn’t have a lot, but oh, what we did have! Because we didn’t have a
lot, we chose to make the best of what we could. Some of my best memories are
just driving around dirt roads (yes, in that huge clunker…does it really matter which one)
sightseeing, talking, & singing. I loved going to mobile home dealerships with you, picking our
dream home, choosing the colors, the furniture, waiting for “one day.” The
auctions…the zombie movies...or any scary movie for that matter…the many, many pets we were blessed to
have…so many memories. I’ve learned to appreciate my siblings & know that
family is everything & the first thing, no matter what. I’ve learned that
someone’s absence from my life is that person’s load to bear…not mine. I’ve
learned that, as a woman, I must make sure to be able to do for myself &
mine, not relying on anyone else to take care of me.
I
know that I struggle sometimes with being an inadequate mother, rehashing my
past mistakes with my children & aching for the “should-have’s” & “if
only’s”. I can only imagine what someone must go through when they are at the end
of their time on earth & are faced with their mere humanness. But I want
you to know, you did well…I am ok. Because of you, I learned what it means to
be self-sufficient. Because of you, I was blessed with a foundation & love
for Christ that called to me even in my wayward times. Because of you, I have
learned to appreciate the “less-than” times. Because of all of this, & so
much more, I am the woman that I am today. I don’t think I’ve ever truly
expressed my deepest heart’s desire to you…my love of Africa. My soul so longs to be there
all the time. I truly believe because of you, because of the hard times we have
weathered, I can appreciate & will able to thrive
efficiently in those areas of that beautiful country that call to my heart. For all of this, & so
much more, I thank you, Mama.
I
wrote this to you so I could say all the things that needed to be said, but I
have to apologize to you. The one thing that should have been the one thing
that was always said was only discussed in passing conversations...God & your salvation. I will always regret not
talking to you about it more until now, until this time in your life. But I am
making a promise & commitment to you that I will always talk to you about
this…every day. Mama, I pray every night & throughout my day, that the Lord
shows Himself to you in such a way that you can no longer deny Him your heart & soul. I
pray that in our time left together I can daily present His gospel of love
& that one day, you’ll accept. No one is ever out of reach of His grace
& mercy…no one…no matter what. I will ask others to pray. I will read to
you out of His Word every night I am with you. I will pray with you before I leave
you. I will fight for you, so that one day, the last thing left said about you
will be “She was His.”
Always
& forever your little girl,
Christy
