Death. Grief. Miracles. Earthquakes. All the things and more. I have lived 25 years in the last 25 days. I am not the same woman I used to be. And all it took was a few weeks.
Death came calling in May when my brother’s only son, Marcus, was killed head-on, on his Harley, by a distracted driver. He had no where to go, she was in his lane. He was 45 years old. He worked on the fishing boats out of Seattle and has a 5 year old son. He was a good man and my brother and sister-in-law are smashed. They literally were at the crash site minutes after it happened and saw their son. Dead, broken, scattered and shattered. Life Flight had already taken off with his girlfriend. She is alive and has a long recovery ahead of her and will never be the same. My brother and sister held their son’s mangled body while he was dying. His right leg was completely gone.
They went to the crash site, 5 miles from their home, the next day. They were gathering up credit cards and debris from Marcus’s wallet for hundreds of feet along the road. And they have to drive by this every single day if they leave the ranch.
A dear friend of the family called 24 hours after my nephew died. He was blubbering and crying. He told my brother to gather the family around the phone. He told them he had just seen Marcus. And Marcus said '“Rick, I have a job for you. Tell my parents that I am in heaven with Jesus and that I am happy. I have had a great life and I will see them when they get here.” Then, a light appeared and a voice came out and said “This is your calling!”
This?? Coming from the least religious or serious person my brother knows? It is like the conversion of Saul on the road to Damascus. God picked someone believable to deliver a message from God to the family. And everyone. Rick’s daughter said to one of the family “ I don’t know what you guys did to my dad but he hasn’t stopped crying in days.”
The celebration of life was June 28th. Family that hasn’t been together in years were going to be there. There was estrangement and hard feelings….but the funny thing is we ALL believe the same way. So, it was not a clot shot that divided us. We have been fracturing for years. There was one thing holding it all together. That was mom. She was living independently and lately needed much help from my sister. It was a good fit for them. Mom wanted to stay in her home and have nothing to do with doctors and hospitals. As she weakened and became jaundiced, my sister became concerned. I arrived at mom’s on June 17th. I told my sister to go ahead and go home, which was 40 minutes away.
Mom and I had a good visit. As she became weaker, I helped her with the things that we do for our children and end up doing for parents. Everyone jokes about it. I used to. She was sharp as a tack, loved God and Tucker Carlson. She was a voracious reader as well. At night, when she was in bed and would hover over her to kiss her forehead, she would hold my head in her hands as she lay there and tell me how much she loved me and that I was the light of her life.
She ended up falling and breaking her ankle. She told me to call 911 and they would come and put her back in bed. Turns out, they told her she should have an X-ray because it could be broken. And, if she fainted, she could have hit her head.
As the ortho wrapped her ankle, he said it was just a little break on a non-weight bearing bone. (He was lying. Her primary care Dr. called us later and told us it was shattered)
The ER doctor came in to discharge her, but mom wanted to know why she was yellow. So, a CT scan was ordered. Not one offer of water for her and there was no caring person in sight, other than a social worker, who got us a wheelchair.
Turns out, Mom had cysts all over her pancreas. She also had an advanced directive. No medical intervention. When the horrid nurse asked her if she wanted to stay in and get an MRI to find out if things were malignant, Mom said NO and pursed her lips in a stubborn line. After a day spent in the ER in Redding CA at Mercy Hospital, we were shoved out the door with a wheelchair; into an emergency area that had been transformed from a benign, if shabby ER, into a scene from the Walking Dead. The tweakers and zombies were filling up the space and adjoining area outside as the sun was setting. I wondered if they were filming a movie. It was THAT horrendous.
I managed to get mom to her home with the help of my best friend. The friendship began when we were 11 and now it is cemented over her help with my mom. We got mom into her house and we probably were not the greatest at it. Mom never cried out, but she would grimace. Thank you Tonnie, for all your help. You are my rock and showed my mom such care and love, along with me.
My brother and sister came down the next day and we prayed. We knew mom’s wishes and decided to bring in hospice. They were there by that evening. Mom had a hospital bed by Wednesday. As all the family felt urgency and showed up early for one celebration of a life taken too soon, they all had a chance to say good-bye to the woman who had made them all possible.
My little brother and family drove all the way from Coeur d’Alene and asked if we would let him in at 2 a.m. So, we did. He and his daughter said good-bye to mom. She was not conscious, but she knew exactly what was going on. Ten minutes after he left, she slipped her mortal coil and finally went to see her Lord. Exactly one hour after she arrived in heaven, as we were all sitting in her living room, there was a 3.6 earthquake with an epicenter 3 km from Mom’s house.
I had no idea that I could survive caring for my best friend and the woman who loved me so well. It is hard to think about hospice, her pain, her decision and now she is gone. I still pick up the phone to call her. I still feel like I killed her.
In another twist of mind, I have realized that her baggage is NOT my baggage. And my baggage is NOT my kids baggage.
Choices made by family are just that. Their choices. Now, I am free. Free to never have to set foot in the state of California again. I was 5th generation native Californian, my family founded the state and it is recorded in some book.
But my gold is not in them thar’ hills. My gold is not in jewelry or Spode Christmas china. My gold is in my tribe. The humans Hubs and I have created. 2 kids and 7 grandkids are my gold. I will take that over the hollow ring of shallow voices digging holes of deception with their tongues.
That is where I have been. Back soon.
Here is to you both. xoxo
A giant debt of gratitude to my daughter, son and husband. They all flew into Redding (different times and different planes) and got to say good-bye to mom and support me as I went through the hardest time I have ever had. Thank you to my DIL and SIL for the love and support. Especially my RN- DIL for letting us bend her ear in the middle of the night about how to tell if someone is really dead. I love them ALL so much. And so did my mom.
This post encapsulates so much. The death that is part of life, the life that continues beyond death, the miracles out of nowhere like grace that penetrate in places we can't see, the deep life changing sadness of loss and the healing ether of love it's all held in.
Damn, Sadie Jay. You write from a real place and you are a gift. Thank you sincerely for sharing this. Blessings to all. May your loved ones know a joy filled transition and may your heart lighten soon. ❤️ XOX
Oh SadieJay. I am so very sorry for your profound losses.
Thank you for sharing your story.
May you be comforted by God’s promises. 😘❤️🙏🙏🙏