A Dying Father's Words for His Children

I have been very emotional lately-- With our oldest being in Ecuador and worrying about her safety, Kenzie graduating from High School (YAY!!), TK getting ready to get his drivers license…

There are times in my life when I think about Keith, my late husband, more than others.  I love Mark, and I love my family, but that doesn't mean my mind and heart don't take me back…through all of the  big events that Keith has missed in his kids lives, and all of the little events that he has missed too.  (I like to believe that he hasn't really  missed them, but observed them from a distance!)

I pulled out an old journal recently and the entry seems appropriate to share today - Father's Day.

A little background before I start… at the time I wrote this, Keith was in the end stages of his life, and in and out of reality.  He was barely aware of his surroundings, and there were very few times that he was alert at all.  That's what made this morning such an amazing one, and the words that came from his mouth and heart the greatest blessing.

June 6, 2001

Keith awoke this morning looking so alert and "alive."  After I got the girls off to school I went in to sit with him - in the midst of the unreal;  we are in a half built cabin- raccoons are all over.  He thinks they are under the bed and in the walls and wants to figure out how to get them out.  The reality leaps out through the cracks of the cabin at me.  He misses his Dad.  He cries.  He doesn't want the kids to use his death as an excuse for failure in their lives.  He said that he was going to write a letter to them, telling them that.  I told him he should do it right then and that I would help him.  I went and got a pen and some paper and he began to speak what was in his heart - things he wanted to make sure his kids knew.  With such clarity he spoke. I haven't heard him talk like that in so long.

(This is what he dictated to me word for word without stopping.  I still have the sheets of notebook paper with the words scribbled as quickly as he spoke them…)

The Feel of Cancer

Keith with our four children after brain surgery.

No matter how deep you bury it, it never completely goes away.  

I'm not talking about the memories of the person, I'm talking about the memories of the cancer.  

Jess and i went to see a movie last night titled 50/50.  

It started off a little uncomfortably with some foul language and uncomfortable scenes, but then it got really good.  

We laughed, we cried... then we cried some more.

Jessie and I were some of the last to be sitting in the theater after the movie ended, both of us with our eyes still wet, staring straight ahead at the screen.

  

Keith is often in my thoughts.  When I look at one of the kids and see his smile, when I look at Tanner and he is raising his eyebrows just like his dad used to... When I have flashes into the past that  a photo, a place, or a song has sparked.  These are the good thoughts, the good memories...the ones that make you warm, and happy.

Some of the scenes in the movie made me feel like I was right back in the moment... Sitting with Keith when we found out that he had cancer.   

The way the 

                world starts spinning, 

and the words being spoken become muted.

  

The way you walk through your days in a fog, barely feeling, yet feeling it all. And I wasn't the one with cancer- I was just the one who loved the one with cancer.  

My whole world started spinning again as I watched this movie.  

The shaving of the head because having some control over when he lost his hair mattered, the time over the toilet after chemo...wishing there was something I could do to help take away the pain, to take away the sickness...the times when the doctor said, "The treatment isn't working...the cancer is spreading."  These are the bad moments-- the memories you try to bury.

  

You can't explain that feeling to someone who has never experienced it, and you hope they will never know what you don't want to, 

       or can't, 

explain.  

It is a place you wish you could forget that you had been, but you never, ever can.  Especially when you watch movies like this.

I still wonder if it is a good thing or a bad thing to bring those memories to the surface.  Maybe they help me remember how precious life is, how precious the time with my loved ones is.  Or maybe they just take me back to a place I never wanted to visit in the first place... either way, it's time to bury it all again for now...It's just easier that way.

---

What Would I Have Done Differently? (Part One...)

Raising a baby at this time in my life has made me ask that question a lot.

AND THE ANSWER IS...(Drum roll, please!):   
A few BIG things sprinkled with a lot of little things.   

When we bring a child into the world we aren't given a manual, a step-by-step checklist, or a written plan on how to turn that helpless, precious baby into a productive, positive, faith filled adult.  

And if we were given the luxury of such a plan, each child's would be significantly different,  because that's the way God made us-- all different.  (Why, Oh Why, couldn't it be simple??) 

Having raised all of our kids so far into their teenage years I am able to look back and see the positive (and sometimes negative) results of my parenting choices. 

I don't have enough time, nor enough courage, to lay it all out right here and now, but this is what I will share...

I would take care of ME more.  
Now I know that sounds self-centered, and you are thinking, How could that possibly make life better for a child you are raising?  Let me tell you- It makes life better for everyone!

In the process of taking care of my family, I forgot to take care of me.  

Selfless, loving, giving...  All of the things I thought I was being.  Exhausted, impatient, and sometimes bitter were what I had become.
  

What do I mean by taking care of me?  I mean taking time for myself...time to exercise, time to be alone, time to be with friends, time (and money) to get my hair or nails done... I always put myself last.  
Isn't that what any good Mom would do?  
                      Nope.  I know that now.

The healthier I am spiritually, physically, emotionally, and mentally- the better Mom I am.  This doesn't mean that I spend most of my day at the spa or at the gym.  
It means that I TRY to schedule time for me....sometimes...instead of never.

Expect More.   
I guess you could say I felt sorry for my kids.  I mean, they watched their Dad battle brain cancer for 5 years, only to lose him at a young age.  Throw some ADD, Anxiety, and Learning Disabilities into the mix and, well, it left me wanting to make life easier for them sometimes.  

BAD MISTAKE.

If our parents have high expectations for us that are placed with love, we tend grow into them.  If our parents have low expectations of us,  we tend to settle for good enough.   At times I set my expectations for my kids too low, mostly because I didn't want them to ever feel like they had failed me, or that they weren't good enough.  

I wish in more situations I had pushed them to not just settle for good enough, but instead to push the limit.

That's all the confession you get from me today! I take comfort in knowing that God knew my heart during those years, as He still does now, and that I did and continue to place my children at His feet through prayer.  We all do the best we can based on what we know.  

Oh, if I only knew then 
                                   what I think I know now... 

Bittersweet

I can barely keep from having a complete breakdown this morning.  My heart is breaking for the St. Germain family.  Their son, Spencer, died this morning.  Spencer is the same age as my son.

There are so many parts to this story that bring me to tears-- The fact that Spencer is the same age as my son, the fact that his parents must feel a void that will never, ever be able to be filled, and the fact that Spencer had a twin sister.  The thing about twins is that although they each hold their own identity, they are also thought of as "one." 

I keep picturing them looking at their family photos from the past, and then picturing future family photos... always a void.  Always a missing smile and a bittersweet moment.  

              I know this feeling.  

The feeling that you are so thankful for those you have surrounding you in that photo, but it never will feel complete because of the one that is missing.

You see, I have experienced a similar loss.... My husband of 14 years died of brain cancer 10 years ago, leaving me to have my family photo taken surrounded by our four beautiful children that I was so thankful for, and the bittersweet pain that only a heart that has lost like that can taste.  

My son went to visit Spencer this past week in the hospital.  He and Spencer had know each other for a long time, but were never especially close.  For some reason, Spencer had requested that Tanner come and see him.  

I was so proud of my son.  

It was hard for him to see Spencer, who was barely able to open his eyes, and he wasn't sure that Spencer even knew that he was there.  

But Tanner knew.  

He knew he did the right thing by going, and even though he lost his Dad, he can hardly remember those times because he was so young, so this was truly the first real time he saw that this earthly life is not endless.  

A powerful message to a 16 year old boy that is in the midst of having to make all of those tough choices that a teenager must make.  

I remember all of the silly, unthoughtful things that people said to me when my husband was dying.  I'm sure their intentions were good, but their words were not always.  

For example, there was the lady that told me that I must have sin in my life that is keeping God from hearing my prayers about healing my husband.  

Or the people, yes, I said PEOPLE, that mentioned that thankfully I was still young enough to find someone else.... but the one that really stuck with me was the woman that said, "Well, at least it isn't one of your children that is dying."  I remember being completely appalled by her comment, thinking that i would choose neither, and how dare she compare one with the other.  

In the moment, she was wrong, but now I see she was right.  You become one when you are married, but you are still 100% your own being.  Your child though.... Your child is a piece of you...  yes, 100% their own being as well, but still made from you, and because of you.  Where do you find peace in this?  The loss of a child you love so much?  That you have given life to?  Only one place... Only from one hand...only from God.  

Spencer had peace knowing where he was going.  His biggest fear was for those that he left behind.  I don't know the St. Germain's, but I do know they love God.   Now that doesn't make the loss they will feel any less, and it won't make it any easier.  They will be angry, they will be sad, and they will question why.... but hopefully they will always come back to the same place that I did.... that I still do....to the peace that can only come from God.

Philippians 4:7    "And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  

I pray for that peace for their family today, and for all of those that knew and loved Spencer.  God Bless You.

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