One Year Ago

One year ago today we stood by Susan's bed as she lay dying. For better and for worse she had become such a part of our lives. I have spent the year reflecting, refreshing and rethinking it all- us all. Today, I will just remember her...what she taught me, what I know now that I didn't then, the friendship we developed, the love she gave, the hardships, the joys...all of it.
Today I will remember; tomorrow I will put those thoughts into words.

Surviving the Storm

Tomorrow is May 10th- one year since the tornado struck our community and our home. Ironic that there is the possibility of severe weather again tomorrow. Ever since that storm whirled its way into our lives last year, nothing has been the same. It was as if an unknown storm had been brewing outside our peripheral until suddenly…destruction.

Looking back is way easier than actually living through this past year has been- for many reasons. One thing that is undeniable is that Susan never did well after that tornado. She never liked change, in fact she had spent her entire adult life taking precautions and being safe. But you can’t lock out a twister- it just spins on in...reeking havoc and messing up our not so neat little lives.

At first, after hunkering down in the bathroom while the storm ripped and sucked all around us, Susan seemed bewildered and confused.
She did realize we had been hit, but wandered around with that familiar look that you see on everyone’s face just minutes after any kind of unexpected disaster strikes. That blank look that says,"What just happened and how did I get here?" We all had that look; but after a while, your mind catches up with the event as everything begins to sink in. I remember jerking awake in the middle of the first few nights and sitting straight up in bed as my sleepy mind remembered that we had been hit by a tornado. For days, even my eyes were in disbelief of what they saw. As our brains and bodies switched to recover mode- we made calls, picked up debris, trimmed fallen trees and began the repairs…. Susan did not. She went on and tried to re-gather herself, but in retrospect I see that she never really could put her remaining puzzle pieces back together again. She still ate well, laughed often, enjoyed things, went places and danced with the rest of us silly people, but now she was frailer and more delicate, it seemed.

I am aware that emotional stress is hard on our physical bodies and I wonder how I might have better protected Susan from it. I don’t think that I could have really; I couldn’t even protect myself. Life happens and there is much we cannot control. But who is to say that in many ways this year has not really been one of mercy to us all? In fact, I believe it has! For that, I thank God.


I want to end with a story that leads to a scripture. My children and I were working with the American Red Cross after the May 3, 1999, tornado in Oklahoma. A woman and her family came to us for shelter and food. She was still wearing the same house clothes that she had put on to relax after work two days earlier. She sat in her comfy clothes as she told us how her and her adult children had hunkered down in a small closet underneath the stairs of her house. With big eyes, she relayed how they had listened to the forces of nature sucking, shaking and ripping at their house and lives. Huddled there, she began to pray out loud, “Lord, you said that you would go with us in the midst of the storm! Now Lord, we are in the midst of the storm and we ask that you would be with us here!” He did for them and He did for us! No matter how hard this past year has been for us, I have clearly felt His amazing grace abounding through it all!


So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
-Isaiah 41:10(NIV)

Butterflies Are Free!

Yesterday my daughter, Kiara, grandaughter, Victoria, and I participated in a butterfly release. It was a symbolic way of remembering Susan. I guess there were about forty people with us, remembering those we loved- all of us together shared a moment of hope and inspiration.







We released our butterflies into a cool Oklahoma day. Butterflies like warmer temperatures though, so were slow at taking off. While others of them more easily flew off into the air, ours lingered in our hands and even stuck around a while. All symbolic, I suppose.















Ironic but meaningful, I thought. Because those of us sharing grief stood alongside the same nurses and staff who had (not so long ago) stood beside us during our loss…comforting, thoughtfully caring and sharing together. Thank you once again to Excell Home Care and Hospice! We love you all!















Butterfly Release


Monarchs
Painted orange
Hesitant to fly
To leave their little sleeves
They lingered on.



Finally they spread their wings
And stood still- but open
Feeling
Perhaps listening
Until they were ready.


Off and out
Into the cool air
Some fluttered near
Others flew upward
And onward.

Their lives will be short
As lives go
But they are free
And beautiful
Filled with purpose.

Goodbye butterflies
Do it well
Live it right
Make it count
Monarch

Flutter first
Up high
Free will
Fly away
Farewell...






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(With Victoria was Brenda, who took excellent care of Susan)

Holidays Without Her

No, Susan was not physically here with us during the holidays, but everywhere I turned, there she was! I saw her in the colors of fall: the brilliant golds, warm oranges and bursts of crimson…she really loved those colors.

For Christmas I borrowed a tree and decorated it with new colors that I loved…colors I had never allowed myself to use. In fact, this year I never even unpacked the sentimental ones; don’t know when…if…I ever will. Susan’s cross, the blingy ornament that I bought her two years ago, appeared. Funny thing, it never had hung on a tree; Susan wouldn’t let it. She kept it in her purse and would periodically rediscover it as she stirred through her purse looking for…um…something. Sometimes she would stir through her purse for hours and in the process, rediscover the cross over and over. She would hold it in her hand and stare at it as if she had never seen it before. She would smile at it as one might smile at the first sight of a long lost friend. “Look Karen!” she would turn it my way with pride on her face. “Wow Susan! That is beautiful!” I would say over and over.



Susan’s holiday snow globe somehow found its way back into our living room. Periodically I would hear its music begin to play and turn to look…instead of Susan’s hands holding the glass ball and her face looking dreamily at the little manger scene inside, there were little hands winding the music up and shaking the snow. Susan’s little snow globe had become my granddaughter’s happy pleasure. Everywhere, Susan was here…her name was still on gift tags… her favorite holiday cookies sat unbought on store shelves. Susan still made us laugh; we laughed as periodically someone would spontaneously say, “Remember when she…” She made us cry because we miss her. She made us smile; just quiet smiles- the knowing ones. So yup, we made it through the first holidays without her, in a way.