I apologize for being late with this. The days blur together, the hours do the same. I (we) marvel at how busy we are as we are in Lin’s and the family’s service. Austin thought it was Tuesday, but it was Thursday. I thought it was early evening, but it was almost 9PM. Time has taken on elastic dimension.
Very fitting that we are still engaged in this process as Easter comes into our lives. The season of new life, the season of extended hope and of renewal into new fields of action. The season of activity beyond the grave.
Lin sleeps now about 21 hours of every 24. She is a fighter; she fights to keep going in this life and among the family and friends she has come to love so very much.
The pattern one or two weeks ago was a day of energy and activity, a day of rest. The pattern now is rest. And she could rally. She has done it before. As I said, she is a fighter (as a former co-captain of a high school field hockey team should be).
The pattern is of great and non-grudging and loving service—from my eldest, Austin, who has been here for a long time, from my daughter Kadra, with her new one, Sarah Lin, who calms us, and reminds us that “a baby is God’s message that the world must go on”, from my sister Charlotte, who is a newcomer and the latest godsend, from our church, from each of you, though not usually physically, spiritually. From all my children and their spouses and friends. I have already described the Addicks, our friends from Baltimore. If there were a medal ceremony, there would be nearly two hundred people lined up to receive medals. And none wanting one.
Lin is at peace—much, much more than she has been at any earlier time throughout this process. Her pain is well managed. She is observant. She still makes sure that things are done right. She still makes sure we buy and fill out thank you cards. Her sterling and wonderfully generous character shines through daily.
Early in the week she noticed bluebirds in the back yard and pointed them out to me(not a yard really, but a steep hill/cliff loaded with rocks and trees and forest vegetation—my kind of yard!). And now graced with a pair of nesting bluebirds. I have tried for 6 years to entice bluebirds to nest back there, laying out birdhouses with care and according to instruction, shooing spiders and wasps out of the nesting boxes. And now this year we are blessed. They are truly beautiful.
It is mid-Spring in Missouri. Daffodils have just finished sending their wave of joy throughout our “yard”; next come stately iris, then cheerful daisies. We are in the season just before chiggers and ticks and mosquitoes and heavy lawn-mowing, so a good season.
Her heart beats more slowly; her blood pressure is much lower. We are all trying to be at peace with what is transpiring, and ask that same blessing to all who read this Blog.
I weep as I type this, sitting upright in the bed next to her bed, where I have been all night. Yes, tears of sadness, but certainly not without hope for a bright future.
The question that is always in the air is—“How long?”. Karen, our lead hospice nurse, always has the same answer—“We are in God country now.”