The Last Time You Said My Name

The last time you said my name was yesterday. I had no idea that would be the last time I heard you say Jeanette...

It seems surreal to have already lost one of our parents. This evening, my husbands mother Suzanne, died of cancer.

We found out she was sick on April 20th. She went to the hospital for what seemed to be gallbladder issues only to discover there was more. Suzanne chose to go home and process the information. She decided not to pursue treatment. 69 days later we have lost her. She was 67.

As I have participated in this dying process, there have been many emotions. So many memories and thoughts surface. Suzanne and I didn't get along very well and that isn't a secret. We were very different women connected to a man we love(d) dearly. Although we had difficulty relating and often times irritated and annoyed each other, I am amazed at how it can all melt away at the end. The fights, misunderstandings, and even anger, is softened. Not forgotten, but the heart is truly softened. After all, I thought I had at least 20 more years of fighting with this woman... and now it just doesn't seem all that bad.

Aunt Linda put it best during her and Uncle Skips visit on Monday: "You coloured the world." Boy did Suzanne ever do that. I am definitely not a creative. Suzanne was a creative through and through, woven together with each fiber of her being. She deeply loved everything beautiful. She could create magic like no other. My children were beyond blessed to experience that. I discovered early on in their childhood that nobody could love them like she could. Of course all of our parents offer that same gift; they love their grandchildren so uniquely. Suzanne could create fantasy and stories, tea parties, fairies, art and beauty out of anything. Anything.

We haven't hidden one aspect of this process from our girls. They visited her nearly every day--definitely each day this last week. They watched her change and were free to ask questions. When Kevin called me to say Suzanne was gone, I took the girls to the hospice so we could be together. They realized the life was gone, the breaths had ceased and she was peaceful. We cried as a family. We will grieve together and be watchful. Thankfully we also have a fantastic support group around us to help us through this.

Tonight, Nola had an introductory riding lesson. Heidi was determined to come with me although our plan had been for her to go with Kevin to the hospice and sit with Suzanne. I had both girls at the stable and Kevin, alone, sat with his mother.

I believe Suzanne struggled with feelings of safety -- no details necessary -- but I can see there was no better time to let go then when she was with the one person in the world who likely made her feel the safest. Quietly, just the two of them sat. He held her hand and played her lullabies she used to sing to him. Kevin gently reassured her we would be alright and it was ok for her to let go. With the final message "143" (I love you), she released her final breath.

We are so sad for ourselves. Sad. Like, REALLY REALLY SAD. It's a woozy, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. That feeling is followed by sporadic fits of crying. And then that might be followed with a terrible impersonation that makes us laugh. This is difficult to go through as the child, and even more boggling as a parent leading a child through the loss of a grandparent. I'm really sad for us. But I'm really relieved for Suzanne.

In the final days she begged to be in the arms of her Savior. She called for Jesus and mostly enjoyed familiar hymns. I was fortunate to experience some Amazing Grace with her after I heard her say my name for the last time. So, I am comforted knowing that she is in Heaven and I'm quite certain she is already busy giving others jobs to do, tidying, cleaning, sorting, folding a blanket or rearranging something. Farewell Suzanne. Until we meet again.