FOREVER AUTUMN

We started our life together on the cusp of the dawning Autumn.

The Autumn of 1974 was full of love and promise.

 

Bob liked the Moody Blues; his favorite song by this band was, ‘Nights in White Satin’ - but, I think this song sums up our life from start to finish.

Bob started leaving me; and our life together, the Autumn of 2018.

I am trying real hard to enjoy this season again – Fall used to be my favorite time of year.

I always liked Fall.

I could breathe in the Fall; my asthmatic lungs do not have to work so hard to overcompensate for the searing summer heat – in the crisp, chill air of Fall, I could breathe deeply and easily.

Bob & I married August 27^th, 1974 … and our daughter had been conceived before the week was out – our life together, and our family began in Autumn
(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/when-we-married-in-1974.html).

It was the Autumn of 2018 that Bob started slipping away from me: our life was slowly coasting to a halt
(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018/09/fall-cleanup-and-forgiveness.html).

This day, last year; around noon, Bob’s struggling body couldn’t even tolerate the liquefied food stuffs the hospital was pumping into him through the feeding tube – it was removed:

He had vomited all night long and had had 6 liters of bile fluids drained from his stomach in the morning, in hopes the discomfort and nausea would abate ...

 

I went into the hospital hallway and cried. His body NEEDED to be able to keep nutritional foods down, and not vomit it back up.

Edema was severely swelling him from his toes to his chest, despite the massaging leg cuffs:

His hands and arms were beginning to swell too. It seemed to me to be a cruel irony because he had lost 60 pounds since September. He had no muscle tone at all because he had been laying abed for so long. Because he was also severely malnourished and so hepped up on potent narcotics to alleviate the pancreatic pain, he could barely stand to do the physical therapy the physicians insisted he attempt.

It was breaking my heart to watch that insidious illness try to break my gentle giant.

And yet, through it all, Bob continued to affirm his deep and abiding trust in Elohei; and clung to Yeshua’s healing atonement at Calvary. While I stuffed my mouth with my fist and cried in the hallway, where my husband could not hear me – I remember thinking that though we knew that Faith is the substance of things hoped for and not yet seen, it would be nice to SEE faith happening in the here and now. That affliction was horrible to experience – and to watch Bob experience: truthfully, ‘horrible’ is so inadequate a word to try to describe this thing that held us in its grip. If it were not for our absolute faith in Elohim, and knowing that HE had it all in hand …

It was hard not to get discouraged.

We needed a miracle.

The physicians parading in and out of Bob’s hospital room all said that pancreatitis is an illness that cannot be cured; and rebounding from it is a long, drawn-out process to bring it under control. Not a single physician had a clue as to WHY Bob had been struck with it. They kept mentioning gall-stones, but there was no evidence of gall-stone activity. There was evidence of poly cysts on his pancreas; those would need to be drained, but first they had to “rind over”.

The doctors here all knew they were in over their heads with Bob’s situation – they said as much. Several times. But there was not yet a bed free at OHSU; there were, however, many phone consultations between our local hospital here and OHSU, in Oregon, as to how to proceed forward until Bob could get to OHSU.

Meanwhile, Bob continued to show a rallying example of faithful fortitude – he never, not even for a second, doubted Elohim or broke faith with Yeshua. Bob was always upbeat – even when physically drained from the violent vomiting. He continued to tell everyone who came into his room about his salvation experience in 1981 – when Elohim brought him back from his second death which was 25 minutes long before he resurrected on the gurney headed to the morgue. He told them also that he was ready to go Home, if that was what Elohim had in mind this time around.

Watching my husband, and listening to him, I was feeling a mixture of powerful emotions: I was thankful that Yeshua was helping us to be upbeat despite sorrow being our constant companion; I was proud that Bob was refusing to allow death to beat him down – I was even a little proud of myself that I could stand with my husband; strong for him, with him. Yes, I cried. But I never fell apart. Elohim was faithful – He held us up and steeled us to face what we were facing with absolute Faith.

The Grim Reaper forced himself into our lives and dug in. Grief, death’s constant companion also planted itself in our life; we had to learn how to live with it. It wasn’t going anywhere: it had unpacked and was hunkered in for the duration.

I think back on that time and marvel that Bob was able to face his own death with such a strong resolve. That I was able to let go without hysteria – that I am able to function coherently now.

THAT IS THE MIRACLE that eluded us September thru December 2018. The miracle in Bob's life, during that horrific time, was that he could face his death without being gripped by fear. The miracle in my life is that I could face death with my husband without losing it to trauma drama ... and I am able to get on with life when I wasn't sure I could without Bob.

11 months/5 days/6 hours & 30 minutes.

And I am able to stand without being supported by Jack Daniels and the Marlboro Man: didn’t even need to call on them. I had thought that I might fall back on old habits ... and I even shared that fear with others ... but, thanks to the faithful love of Elohim and the saving grace of Yeshua, that never happened. I never even felt the urge to reacquaint myself with those numbing agents of Grief.

THAT’S FAITH in action.

We always trusted Elohim 100% with our life – individual or joined – and while The Grim Reaper crashed our party, and Grief wrote the concerto we were forced to dance to … Yeshua was always the Master. And HE covered us with His wings and sang over us. For every unknown & uncertain faltering dance steps we were stumbling with – HE came alongside us and taught us how to make the discomforting tune our own, and how to bend the orchestrated steps into our own unique masterpiece. We may have been dealing with an unruly party-crasher and a troublesome sidekick, but Elohim was always in control of the situation, and Yeshua turned disastrous circumstances into something uniquely beautiful: rather than highlighting the unimaginable suffering and jaw clenching pain (the reason for the potent narcotics being pumped into him) Bob’s impending death became beauty in action as death was pushed to the back and the glory of Elohei was brought to the forefront. I remember the afternoon Bob looked at me, with a cool damp washcloth draped over his fevered bald head to help stave off nausea, and said, “There are so many people coming in and out of this room Val; maybe I’m going through this because someone needs to hear my testimony and know that Yeshua loves them.” In that moment, I KNEW that Bob had made peace with his approaching death.

And I determined to do the same.

What is death?

What is life?

They are both only a breath in time; gone in the blink of an eye.

Either can be as hard … or as easy ... as we choose to make them.

Bob had come to terms with his impending death, and made peace with it: he was allowing Elohim to use him as a tool to reach someone’s heart with the message of Yeshua’s great love, and salvation.

From then on, I determined only to make this passage from one life to the next, as easy for my husband as I possibly could.

I started spending all day and all night in his room: I was there ‘round the clock, leaving him only when there were examinations to be done – I didn’t want the attendants to be tripping over me, and they always appreciated that thoughtfulness – and came to get me from the lounge when they were finished. Despite the physician’s pep talks, the attending nurses knew we were dealing with dwindling time together: they went out of their way to ease that concept for us. It was thoughtful. It was compassionate. I was thankful.

The Specter of Death was merciless in its dramatic appearance in our lives. Grief was a hard task master, driving us with its unwelcome dance lessons. Balancing time with Grief while trying to outpace Death’s demands became emotionally, physically, and spiritually draining. We were caught up in a morose waltz that suddenly had us twirling in a dizzying cadence – the dance steps were tricky and we found ourselves lightheaded with the frenzied activity. We had always enjoyed dancing … but, that November: not so much.

This time, last year was very challenging.

As long as I live, I will never forget the harsh Fall & ensuing separating Winter of 2018.

August 28^th, 2018, Bob & I were busy living our life, planning future activities of enjoyment. If death had been stalking us, we weren’t aware of the Reaper’s unwanted attentions. Grief never even gave a whispered hint. August 29^th, around noon, Bob had finished crafting the last garden box he would ever make me this side of Heaven; and we had, together, placed it in line along the borderline with the other 12 boxes that would give me a full-sized-garden gardening area. Mid-afternoon, ron cook placed a call to candy scott … and candy showed up on our front porch where Bob was taking a break, sitting on the carved Coho Bench. She started screaming that the boxes had not been approved by her, and she was waving highlighted papers at him, shouting that the rain barrels were illegal because they did not have lids on them, and had not been ‘professionally installed’ ... and ron was freaked out thinking apples and tomatoes would fall on his landscaping rock. Bob called for me to come out on the porch. I assessed the situation – saw that Bob was physically shaken due to the overload of stress candy had just dumped on him after a physically taxing day – and I asked her what was going on. She then started screaming at me, and I held up my hand, saying, “You need to stop screaming; you are upsetting my husband, and he can’t be stressed like this. First off … the garden boxes were already approved by the previous Manager – we made sure of that before we bought this house: we don’t need your approval: they are already ‘approved’; secondly, the rain barrels have lids – if you will shut up long enough to look down the side of the house, you can clearly SEE the lids on them.” She refused to acknowledge the previous approval, and she would not turn her head to look down the side of the house to see that rain barrels did indeed have lids on them – she continued to wave those stupid papers and screech like a demented chimp with shit in its hand. I finally told her she would have to leave, and that if she came back, I would sic a lawyer on her. She left – we came into the house. Bob went to lay down and calm down. August 30^th, Bob woke up and said he didn’t feel good – and he staggered down the hallway, where he promptly threw up in the toilet. I insisted he go to ER; he argued: we went. The 14th garden box never got built ...

By 1:30 PM, August 30th, 2018, we were reeling with the news that he was dying.

I remember staring dumbly at the ER talking head and thinking, “Is this real?” I opened my mouth, and asked, “Why? How? He hasn’t been sick! We just got back from a mini vaca around the Olympic Peninsula – he was fine! What the hell?”

Stress-induced pancreatitis.

That affliction careened out of control with the recent front-porch drama.

My thoughts then towards ron and candy were not good ones – they definitely were not even Christian ones …

Later that afternoon, August 30^th, 2018, when Bob was shifted from an ER cubicle to an ICU room upstairs, Bob was indeed dying. Right in front of me. And he did not want to be drugged out of his mind (literally – he was having hallucinations due to the drugs they filled his body with), he did not want to be hooked up to all that machinery. He did not want to be there at all – he wanted to die at home. Looking at my husband, I regretted forcing him to go to ER. I remembered our death discussions spanning 3 decades, and I made an executive decision: I would honor my husband’s wishes to die the way he chose. I told the physician standing at my elbow, “He does not want any of this. Take it all off him and do not give him any more drugs.” The physician argued – I was insistent; everything was removed and drugs were halted. I said, “If he makes it to tomorrow and decides he does want the machines and the drugs after all, then start it all up again. But for now, right now tonight … no more.” And that is what happened. Bob came through the night and decided that he still wanted the DNR in effect, but he would agree to treatment as long as it did not involve actual resuscitation steps.

And that decision, Bob made, is what led to last year’s November 19^th, ordeal. That I am remembering on today’s 1-year Memory Anniversary.

The Grim Reaper was not willing to negotiate: he collected in December 2018
(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018/12/inconviences.html).

And his imp, Grief, makes sure I never forget.

But neither of those two hellish minions expected us to cleave to Faith’s assurances like we did/do.

While Grief has been my constant companion these past 11 months/5 days/6 hours & 30 minutes, it is losing its death-grip on me – I am learning, with the faithfulness of Elohim’s compassion and Yeshua’s ‘peace that passes all understanding’ how to shake the debilitating effects of grief off. I am in the process of healing – and every day I get a little stronger Grief gets a little weaker: pretty soon, due to lack of attention, Grief won’t be so forceful or demanding. Grief will always be lurking in the shadows, but it won’t be able to paralyze me like it did those first empty heartbreaking months.

This time, last year, I boldly fought against Grief. I had to – Bob depended on me to be strong; to help him face Death boldly, confidently: as a united front, as we had always faced challenging situations and circumstances since joining our lives together 44 years ago. I was wise enough to understand that Grief would always be in my life from here on out … and Bob wouldn’t. I could deal with Grief later: I needed to be in the moment with my husband; this time, last year.

So, I packed a duffel bag with a novel, a knitting project, some juices, and the ipad; and started camping in Bob’s hospital room where we could look at each other all day and all night long; we could talk without watching the clock; we could hold hands; we could kiss; I stroked his bald head; I could feast my eyes on him while he slept – and his eyes would see me as soon as he woke up.

We were together.

Yet, we were separating.

It was challenging.

My thoughts were filled with Autumn memories this time, last year: Bob was born on the cusp of Autumn 1949; I first laid eyes on Bob’s face in the Autumn of 1966; we married on the cusp of Autumn of 1974; our ‘honeymoon-baby’ pregnancy was confirmed the Autumn of 1974; our granddaughter was born the Autumn of 1995; we moved back to our local area the Autumn of 1995; Bob retired the cusp of Autumn 2011.

Bob started slipping away from me the Autumn of 2018.

And life would never be the same for us again.

My life seems to have revolved around Autumn.

All of my life will now always be ‘Forever Autumn’.

L’OLAM VA'ED

Va’ed is a Hebrew term that equates “to infinity and beyond!”

L’Olam Va’ed carries the connotation that there is a dimension beyond time; a reassurance that time itself goes on even after we can no longer perceive it … that there is an indefinite future; an eternity, really – on which we have a brief, but lasting influence.

Our lifetime, brief as it was given the understanding of l’olam va’ed, seemed a long time in our earthly time; but given the magnitude of eternity, it was a mere blink of an eye.

Yet, SO MUCH LIFE was lived in that blink!

And all my futures will forever be 44 years.

Come December 29^th, I will be 63 years old – and the following year, I will be 64 years old. But I will ALWAYS BE married 44 years. My marriage will never age. Time for my marriage stopped December 14^th, 2018 at exactly 8:05 AM. My life with Bob ended on that day, at that specific time – I KNOW, because I watched Bob breathe out his last breath … and my eyes immediately shifted to the clock on the wall.

December 14^th, 2018.

8:05 AM.

I was 61 years old; my 62^nd birthday followed 15 days later.

I aged.

Bob … and our Anniversary didn’t.

Bob is ageless now as he rides the clouds; and our Anniversary was suspended in time: my years as wife to Bob will always remain 44 years.

But my Widowhood years will multiply.

When THIS December 14^th, & 8:05 AM on December 14^th, 2019 comes around, I will have marked my first year as a widow. And next year will be year 2 – each successive year will gain in numerical increase while my Anniversary years will be frozen at 44 years.

I am still Bob’s Wife, and yet I am not.

Today, a year ago, Bob and I were living another life.

Together.

And that life was changing every hour on the hour. It was scary. It was frustrating. It was spiraling out of control. We knew that Elohim is faithful, and we knew that He had blessed us with healings in the past - if He chose to do so again, GOOD … BUT if He chose to call Bob home ... then we are ready for that also. No matter what, we are going to make the best of the time together that we had to that date been granted; and praise Him anyway. 

Because He is worthy.

No matter what.

Today - last year, was a hard time to experience.

Bob was being shifted back and forth between his room & ICU more and more often; and he consented to using potent narcotics to dull the severe pain. BUT the DNR remained in place; and he managed to give his testimony of how he got saved in 1981 to all his attendants, and to the chaplains that visited him. Bob knew he was dying – and he was not afraid. His Faith was strong in Yeshua - and in Elohei, Who Bob trusts 100% with his life (then, and now). Bob had, by this time last year, lost 55 pounds as well as muscle tone since September. His stomach was painfully bloated because of the pancreatitis flare-ups. He endured a lot of severe pain.

A Neck stint put in, in ER, because they were going to rush him to OHSU. That was canceled and it was then being used in ICU to administer the narcotics.

Bob was having bile fluids drained, and massaging leg cuffs were strapped on his legs because edema was starting on his legs due to the saline IV’s and bed-ridden state – blood clots were a serious danger:

He was started on physical therapy sessions and tube feedings, and there were pep talks of him eventually coming back home … but, that was just aimless talk doctors do when they really have nothing hopeful to float: and it made me mad that they were lying to us. I understand WHY they lied – but it still angered me. The docs had made it clear to us that Bob was living on borrowed time - just how long that time would be was a crap-shoot-guesstimate, as there is no definate way of knowing the longevity: there were a LOT of conflicting diagnoses and disagreements between attending physicians as to WHY Bob had been stricken with acute pancreatitis – and how to treat it. But the one thing that ALL of them agreed on, was that acute pancreatitis is not curable, and that at that particular moment in time, Bob was dying: THAT DIAGNOSIS NEVER CHANGED – regardless of what his mother and sisters chose to hear & believe. Every hour was a ‘touch-n-go’ scenario. It was getting harder and harder for me to leave him at night: I was leaving the hospital earlier then, around 4 p.m., because the fog bank off the river would roll in and settle very thick over the roadway between Baker’s Corner & Heron Pointe, making driving that stretch of the highway dicey. During that period of time, I was always afraid I’d get {the call} in the middle of the night – I tried not be terrified when I left the hospital every night.

Two out-of-town relatives came to see Bob on this day last year: my youngest sister, Carla, called and said she wanted to see Bob “before it’s too late” – I told her to come. Our lives are very different, but I knew she loved Bob: the differences in chosen lifestyles didn’t seem so inflammatory at that moment in time – we agreed to disagree. Love was the order of the day. Later on – that same day; Bob’s nephew-in-law, Chris, was in town and dropped by his room for a visit before heading to Seattle to catch his plane back to Maine. It was a good visit despite the fact that Chris and Bob’s niece Michelle were in the process of divorce.

And, after Chris left, Bob & I talked. We didn’t beat around the bush – we talked about the very real specter of death that hovered over us 24/7 since his ER visit, the tail end of August. I said, “I know your mother and sisters seriously overstepped themselves last month, and it is justifiable for us to be angry; but Bob … you are seriously facing death – it’s time to forgive them and end the banishment from your life; for your sake. Be bigger than them. Forgive. It won’t make what they did, okay, but forgiving them WILL be doing what Yeshua tells us to do: do it FOR YOU. Don’t let them keep you out of Heaven. Please, Bob. Call them. Get it right with Elohim. Do all you can to make sure you get into Heaven – THAT is what’s important.” Bob picked up the phone and called Merry, telling her he forgave them – and when she started trying to change what actually happened … he didn’t rise to the enemy’s baiting bait – he  punted them 'a misunderstanding' pass, and let them off the hook. To obey Yeshua; to honor Elohim. For his own sake. To make sure he didn’t lose the prize in the end game.

And this day ... today ... is as fresh to my consciousness as the day it happened: last year.

It is so fresh, I can see my husband clearly … and I can almost feel his skin again.

On this night, last year, I spent the night in Bob’s hospital room for the first time. It would not be the last time.

On this night, now … I give those memories, of that time, to Elohim.

I really am not comfortable reliving these “1^st’s” flashbacks; so, I slipped into one of Bob’s old tee-shirts. Wearing his shirts – even if I swim them – comforts me. I am past what I look like … and I am thanking Elohim that the video feature on my phone (Bob's phone) works again.

I give these 1st's falshbacks to Elohim, so my heart can heal.

I love you, Babe.

Always – to infinity and beyond.

OX