Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. (1 Peter 1:3-7 NIV)
One month ago today, on June 30, 2016, the angel who God sent to earth to be my mom, my friend, my biggest fan, my protector, and defender was set free to return to her eternal home. Alzheimer's was defeated, and her fears were released. She is now admitted into eternal grace.
Mom experienced many physical struggles during her final week, but remembered me until the very end. She had already been in the hospital for three weeks for evaluation. While there, she fell, broke her hip and leg, had surgery, and developed blood clots that preceded her heart attack just hours before she passed.
As Mom struggled on her final morning, one of the nurses on the medical floor told her, "We've talked to Cheryl, and she'll be here soon." The nurse later told me that Mom immediately relaxed, an acknowledgment that Mom knew I was coming and remembered I was someone special in her life. A short while later, she was raced to the Emergency Room, and I raced like Jeff Gordon to meander through the 25 miles to the hospital.
The adage is true that God is never early, never late, and always on time. He got me to the emergency room not a moment early, not a moment late, and just in time. I choose to believe that God told Mom when I arrived at the ER.
I was quickly escorted to the family conference room to talk with the doctor. During our two-minute conversation, a very intense nurse came into the room twice, needing the doctor's immediate attention regarding my mom. It was during these moments just after I arrived, unbeknownst to me, that Mom's heart had beaten for the very last time. Dr. Jackson asked me for a family directive, just in case, and I pleaded with the doctor, through the torrents of my salty tears, that "she's been through enough, and please, I beg you, please let her go."
Ninety seconds later, I was escorted in the direction of her ER room as nurses and doctors pulled the life-saving lines and tubes from her body. That's when I was first told that her heart had stopped. My feet refused to move just short of the entrance to her room. I told the young male nurse, "Whoa, wait just a second. I've never been with a deceased person before." He gave me a gentle smile and said, "You'll be fine. We'll walk you through it together." Moments later, I was witness to her spirit soaring into the arms of Jesus.
During the last four weeks without my mom, I learned something about grieving. Panic attacks and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) can occur as part of the grief process, particularly for those who have been arduous caregivers and for those who strive to perfectly perform the tasks of being the "CEO" of the estate. Sounds like the job description I diligently fulfilled.
My mom was my best friend for 58 years, and she will always remain my best friend through eternity. Yesterday, the last family members said goodbye. Probate is nearly done. Photos have been tearfully cherished. For moments today, life felt seemingly still.
But, for other moments this week, I found myself experiencing panic attacks for two of the last three mornings (I'm not prone to experiencing them). Took me a couple of days to recognize them as such, and then I did some research.
When we caregive before death and then become the CEO after death to handle everything on behalf of our loved one (like planning the funeral and writing the obituary, and handling probate, etc.), the busyness "defers" the grief which can then manifest in panic attacks and even PTSD, especially for people like me who hold the winning lottery ticket for perfectionism.
My thoughts about panic attacks or PTSD? Like Dr. Seuss, "I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere."
I extend a special love, mercy, and grace today to others like me who still cry at flashback memories or who stroll through the card section at Hobby Lobby wanting desperately to buy one more card for their loved one, simply because we miss our loved one so very much. This is the most significant and hardest loss of my life, even harder than when my daddy died of Alzheimer's, too.
Despite standing on God's promises and equipped in His spiritual armor, my extreme sadness and pain of not hearing her voice, not being able to pick up the phone to call her, not taking her to church tomorrow, and not seeing her eyes sparkle and her smile penetrate my heart is the hardest journey of my life. I am physically alone right now, and sometimes, crying is the only thing I know how to do.
Please don't judge me, nor dismiss my anguish. It is deep, and it is real. As someone who is grieving, support me in my grief. Let me cry, let me laugh, let me take pause to reflect on the memories of the life partner God gave me in my mom. Let me be held by my angel just a little longer.
Photo by Barry Howell
