A Cancer Journey: Lou Goes Home
This is the final installation of our Head of Accounting’s story as she watched her husband’s life come to an end almost a year ago today. To read all of her story, click here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
Part 4: Lou Goes Home
“Happy Birthday, Babe! The day this blog posts will be your first birthday in heaven, and my first without you. I think I will go to Dana Point with Bella and April if she is free. Then have the family over for pizza. You know we lost Molly the first Sunday in March, so it’s just Bella and me now.”
Part of my healing journey is journaling fairly regularly to Lou. I also let him journal back to me through my fingers on the computer keyboard.
But . . . I am a year ahead of myself . . .
Let me tell you something of those last weeks we had Lou. They kept increasing his medications and he hallucinated quite a bit. Some of the medications were totally wrong for him and caused terrible side effects. Also, Lou fell several times. The nurse took everything away and said it was time for him to remain in bed.
It was 4/15. I was trying to finish our taxes on the computer before midnight. Lou fell, trying to get to the room where I was working. If he could not see me it became a huge source of anxiety for him. I strapped him in the wheelchair, so he could be with me. When he was too exhausted to sit, I helped him back into bed. I tried to get him soothed enough for me to finish. We were both so stressed. None of his medications worked that night. He could not sleep. The nurse on night call told me to increase the one he was having the psychotic reaction to and someone would come soon. Lou got much worse. I panicked and became hysterical. That immediately caused Lou to find the strength to become normal & sane and overcome the effects of the medication.
During that time of him calming me down and holding me beside him in his narrow bed, Lou spoke to me and gave me what I have come to think of as his final benediction over me: Wonderful words from God through him, that will carry me the rest of my life. We finally fell asleep in each others’ arms.
About 5 am a nurse came and told me they were changing the medication and making him “comfortable”. They put him into a “medical coma” which he never really came out of, except once. He had had no water to drink for 8 days by then, because they said he would choke if given any. When he decided to talk, he fought and fought to find and loosen his tongue. “I am dying!” he cried out. That was all he was able to say.
Photo Courtesy of ©iStockphoto.com/mingman
On Lou’s last night, my girlfriend took the night watch while I got a medicated sleep. I woke with a start that morning to the song rolling in my head by the Kinks: “So Tired of Waiting for You.” Was it Lou trying to get my attention? I flew out of bed and to his side. His hand was warm but most of him was cold. I spoke to him and told him over again and again how I loved him and to go with God.
That was it. He was gone. It was 0830 on April 25, 2013.
I had no training as a celebrant, but I knew it was important that Lou’s service do him justice and share his story. I figured I needed to be the one to do it. His unfailing love and care for me had been unparalleled. Outside of me, no one was more important than his loving, faithful daughter April and his grandkids. I simply couldn’t just do facts and statistics. Lou was not that kind of a guy. He deserved more.
I ended up giving a eulogy that helped people see the man, the one who existed behind closed doors, the one our family loved and respected so much. Then, it was important to show him visually from a child on up in a video tribute with meaningful songs in the background. Our pastors spoke, our loved ones sang: “It is Well with my Soul” (and it was: He went straight to the arms of Jesus), and “Mansion over the Hilltop” (his favorite, and where I know he is living today.)
Photo Courtesy of ©iStockphoto.com/eAlisa
We ended with everyone singing together: “Blessed be your Name” The words described perfectly how Lou and I chose to view this horrible, shockingly short ordeal of pain we lived through together. The Lord gives and takes away. It would have never been our choice for this to happen to us. Still, our hearts chose to say “Blessed be the Name of the Lord”. As I am writing this, I am thinking of Easter. Because of the resurrection, I know Lou also lives.
Four short months of suffering together, has been followed by the hardest year of my life. But make no mistake: It is my pain, for MY Loss, not Lou’s.
Still, I am getting by. I have my family, my faith, people who care about me and my occasional Lou sightings.
So, Happy Birthday, Babe. And thank you… You were amazing! I truly had the best!
|| what do you think?
How have you commemorated anniversaries like these?
What practices have you found helpful in your grief journey?
57 Comments
First and Foremost I appreciate you sharing about your journey it always helps us all understand we are not alone. I always commemorated the day renee died by having her favorite western bacon cheeseburger at her graveside , it was a time I would reflect and remember all the good days we spent together from 19 years of marriage. I have not missed one and will have now my ninth this year on July 13. The way I made it through my grief was surrounding myself with family and friends as everyone has been so supportive of me and my daughters. Again thank you so much for always being there to talk and support me as well.
Sincerely Joe Lavoie
Joe,
Thank you. I always hope I can be there for you when you need someone to listen, pray or give you a proverbial shove. Sometimes I feel like maybe I am too tough on you, but it is all in good intentions.
It is good you keep a ritual. Lou was a great believer in ritual. I was always one to try to please him and let him do what he wanted when we could. He was always attentive to see what pulled my chain or made me smile. Then he would try to repeat that often until it became a ritual of our week or month or year.
Now that’s gonna be hard to replace!
Annie
Thank you, Anne, for the sharing Lou’s story with us. I remember Lou telling me the story about the time he camped in an area of Del Mar, while he was in the Marine Corp. The area where he camped is now a car repair shop near the beach. I find comfort in remembering how hard my parents worked to raise tree children. I am blessed and inspired when I think back on the sacrifices my parents made for us, because we came from a place of having very little. . . .
Tom,
Lou liked to tell his stories. I am glad you have a memory or two of your own, from when you worked together.
We all started out with very little. We always want to make it so our kids don’t have to struggle for things the way we did. Actually, this is a disservice to them. By the time the butterfly or moth works its way out of the tight maze of a cocoon, it has exercised its wings enough to be strong enough to flutter constantly and allow it to FLY!
Anne,
The service for Lou was so beautiful! I was so happy I could be there and learn so many great things about your beloved husband. You are so strong and I hope you know I am here for you whenever you need. You eulogy about Lou was breathtaking and I loved the words you used. Thank you for letting us in on such a painful journey.
<3 Shayna
Shayna,
Here you are a new bride, with so much love in your heart and stars in your eyes. This is such a beautiful, fun, joy-filled time. You are just a the beginning of creating your own memories, building a life and a bond that I know, with work and perseverance can grow as deep as ours.
Love
Anne
Dearest Anne, thank you for this final Lou blog. Each one has been so remarkable- you have ensured that we all know, love & miss him through your amazingly descriptive writings. I feel fortunate to have known him & to have seen him on his last night. His funeral service was absolutely perfect & I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. You did the most beautiful eulogy I have ever heard & I won’t ever forget it. Thank you for sharing your journey. I love you…. XOXOX Carrie
Carrie,
Here you are, ready to embark on such a happy part of your life. I have had it and I am thankful that you will too. You helped us so much through Lou’s illness, and then on through the arrangement to the funeral services and the cremation, even to having Lou’s truck washed. Lou appreciated everything he knew about. I appreciated all of it.
I love you,
Anne
Anne, the love you two shared was something VERY special; leaving a mark on the lives of couples who know, encouragement to fight and inspiration to always love.
Maria,
I have to say, Lou and I did not always see eye to eye on every single issue. We argued when we disagreed, but always with respect for the other person.
Never hit below the belt. Never use the “D” word as a threat. Never go to bed mad. Never leave the house mad. (Well, sometimes a long walk or ride to cool off is good.) I think it is important to agree early on that you are in this together for the long haul and that you will spend your greatest efforts making that happen. Also, that person has to feel they matter more to you than your friends, your family, or any other person who might try to turn your eye or your heart. There’s a little fodder for how to always love.
Love
Anne