Susan's memorial service: Austin

Our 21-year-old son Austin honored his mom with this hymn at her memorial service. He played and sang so well.

It Is Well with My Soul

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

when sorrows like sea billows roll;

whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well with my soul.

Refrain:

It is well with my soul,

it is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

let this blest assurance control,

that Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

and hath shed his own blood for my soul.

(Refrain)

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole,

is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

(Refrain)

Susan's memorial service: Slideshow

Here's the slideshow we featured at Susan's memorial service. 

Susan Buccowich Memorial Slideshow

Susan's memorial service: Adam

Our 20-year-old son Adam sang Phil Wickham's “Cielo” beautifully at his mom’s memorial service. "Cielo" means Heaven. I'm proud of you, son! 

Cielo

I'm walking through the bright white gates
Breathing in and out your grace
All around me melodies rise
That echo with the joy inside
So I start to sing

But I can't sing loud enough
I can't sing loud enough
When I'm singing for You my God
I can't sing loud enough
I can't sing loud enough
When I'm singing for You my God

With a thunder roll and a brilliant light
Your glory boasts and the heavens shine
The saints and angels stand in awe
Captured by the beauty of it all
So I fall to my knees

But I can't bow low enough
I can't bow low enough
At the vision of You my God
I can't bow low enough
I can't bow low enough
At the vision of You my God

I can't hold it all inside
I'm reaching for the One who 
Brought me out of death and into life

But I can't lift my hands high enough
Lift my hands high enough
When I'm reaching for You my God
I can't lift my hands high enough
Lift my hands high enough
When I'm reaching for You my God
Oh I'm reaching for You my God
I'm reaching for You
I'm reaching for You
I'm reaching for You my God

 Copyright © ℗ 2012 Phil Wickham

Susan's memorial service: brother Randy

Here is what Susan's brother Randy Romberg shared at her memorial service yesterday:

For whatever reason, Susan always really seemed to have great affection for me. This, in spite of some of my actions toward her when we were kids.

L-R: Randy, Susan & Brian Romberg, 1970

When Susan was in about 7th grade, she LOVED David Cassidy. She studied his every move in Tiger Beat magazine. She also played her Partridge Family album incessantly. I pounded on her bedroom door hoping she’d make the awful noise stop. She ignored me. At some point I actually came to believe that Keith Partridge thought he loved me.  

There were the times when I chastised her for being the slowest person on the planet Earth. You absolutely could not rush her. This did not always fit well with me and my hyper-active ways. My dad affectionately called her “Slough-Foot Sue.” I’m not 100% certain, but I think that title alluded to the fact that she was a bit slow moving.

There was also the time in high school when we were on vacation at Clear Lake and she took her usual full hour, at least, getting herself all dolled-up for the evening. When she came down to the dock, I pushed her in the lake. Nobody thought that was funny then either.

Actually, those incidents were few and far between. Most of the time the two of us treated each other with love and respect. 

Now, ever since we were in our thirties or so, I have consistently looked about ten years older than Susan. The truth is she was actually a year-and-a-half older than me. But that was one thing about my sister. She always looked great. As a matter of fact, it was important to her to look like everything was perfect. It was important to her to do as good a job as possible in all of the areas of her life. Susan worked very hard to be as perfect as possible when it came to being a daughter, a wife, a mother, and a Christian.

So, even though she was always kind and thoughtful, on the inside she was a bit of a worrier and kind of bound up. That was until about ten years ago. It was then that everything changed for her. You’re going to hear more about that in a little while. But suffice it to say that Susan met the real God who just wanted to love her and who didn’t expect perfection.

That’s when Susan became free. Free from guilt. Free from expectations. Before that time she was careful not to offend, not to draw attention to herself, and to always do the right thing. After that time, Susan grew deeper friendships, laughed more and loved more. Her faith became something simple. A simple trust that the God who loved her held her close. That simple faith is what got her through breast cancer and a long road of brain cancer.

Further, after Susan’s stroke and brain surgeries, she had like zero inhibitions. She would sing a silly song for you. All you had to do was ask. She’d make strange faces just for kicks. And hair and make-up weren’t even a consideration. This was definitely not the Susan from before. I know some of this was the effects of brain trauma, but it was the path she was heading down anyway. I’m telling you, she became free.  

So here are my questions for you; Are you a worrier? Are you bound up on the inside? Are you attempting to measure up in some way? You don’t have to. There is a solution. His name is Jesus. And He is a God who offers freedom. The only thing He asks is simple trust – the kind that Susan had.

Obituary

Susan M. Buccowich

Susan Buccowich, 51, passed away peacefully on July 18, 2013 following a six-year battle with brain cancer. Susan Marie Romberg was born July 23, 1961, the second of three children and the only daughter of David and Helen Romberg. She grew up in Paramount and attended Lincoln Elementary and Alondra Junior High before graduating from Paramount High School in 1979.

A key aspect of Susan’s youth was her activity at Emmanuel Reformed Church in Paramount where she belonged with generations of her Christian family. Depending on her age and the day of the week, she could be found in worship, attending or teaching Sunday school, participating in youth groups, singing in choirs, acting in and leading drama ministry, and participating in women’s ministries plus a variety of Bible studies. Susan centered her life on God and his people.

She met Mike Buccowich at church one evening with the college group in 1982. They began dating within a couple of months and became inseparable. They enjoyed each other’s company anywhere and spent time serving at church, sharing Falcon burgers at Cerritos College, and establishing a relationship they would treasure. In 1984, Susan graduated from the Cerritos College Dental Hygiene Program and pursued her professional career. Mike and Susan were excited to be husband and wife, and married on March 23, 1985.

Motherhood arrived with joy for Susan in 1989 when their daughter Lexie was born, followed by sons Austin in 1991 and Adam in 1993. She learned to balance motherhood with her career, and created a warm and loving home for her family. Susan also helped introduce a legacy of faith to her children, helping them to know and serve God just as she had done. She happily continued family traditions in her own home and sought to create lasting memories on birthdays, Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. Annual highlights also included family vacations for water skiing at Clearlake, snow skiing in Mammoth, and weekend retreats in the mountains at Angelus Oaks.

Susan’s sincere faith and trust in God became remarkably evident when she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2005. Caught early and treated with surgery in 2006, it served to make Susan more thankful for the gift of life. But her Christian foundation became indispensable when she was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor in 2007. Knowing her life belonged to God and that his good purposes can be established in spite of the hardest circumstances, she determined to prevail against a disease with an average life expectancy of 18 months.

She endured radiation treatment and 6 chemotherapies,10 ER admissions, 19 hospital stays and 14 surgeries throughout her brain tumor journey. She overcame a number of complications including tumor progression four times, brain hemorrhages twice, and even fungal meningitis. But bigger than her overstuffed medical file, Susan’s huge capacity to prevail with peace in the face of death demonstrated God’s resources at work in her life. 

She pursued her journey knowing that God would provide for her needs and wanted others to share in the comfort she received. Her positive attitude brought encouragement to her family and to others as God saw fit. Her legacy of trusting the Lord in spite of overwhelming circumstances will continue by his grace.

Susan is survived by her husband Mike and children Lexie, Austin and Adam; her brothers Brian (Nancy) and Randy (Dorothy) Romberg and their families; her father David Romberg; and scores of people who knew her and accompanied her on her journey – friends, co-workers, patients, and people of the family of God. Funeral services will be held the week of July 22, 2013 at Emmanuel Reformed Church.

Susan’s family expresses their profound gratitude for everyone who prayed for and supported us over the years with family meals, gifts, gift cards, housecleaning, cash, gas cards, flowers and countless notes of encouragement. We especially want to thank Susan’s caregiver team for your vital weekday visits so she could be supported while we were at work and school. You are amazing. Your help was life-giving.

We’re also deeply grateful to Dr. Leia Nghiemphu and the neuro-oncology and neuroscience teams at UCLA who extended Susan’s life again and again and gave us the gift of time. Susan was a beneficiary of yourr tireless commitment to bring healing into the devastation of brain cancer for patients and families. Your commitment will continue to bear fruit in the form of more effective treatments and better outcomes.

Those who are inclined to remember Susan with flowers are encouraged instead to donate generously to the UCLA neuroscience program. You may donate online or by check payable to the UCLA Foundation and mailed to: 

The UCLA Foundation

Attn: Patricia Roderick

UCLA Medical Sciences Development

10945 Le Conte Avenue Suite 3132

Los Angeles, CA 90095-1784

In Heaven

Susan went to Heaven this morning. I was lying on the couch not sleeping when Daisy barked softly a couple of times. Alerted, I stepped over to Susan right away. She had stopped breathing. It was 4:23am. I listened as her heart quietly stopped beating a few minutes later.

Pastor Ken shared this word with us yesterday from Psalm 73:

“Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Those who are far from you will perish; you destroy all who are unfaithful to you. But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge; I will tell of all your deeds.”

Our sister-in-law Nancy shared this word with us today, John 10:28, “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand.”

I also think of John 14:19, “Because I live, you also will live.” The Word, the Word of the Lord, the Word of Life. Such a comfort. Such grace when we need it. Our God is everything to us.

Passing over

Last night, Susan began passing over from her familiar, temporary home to the home in Heaven the Lord has prepared for her. She is actively passing away now in that final course that can last hours or days. Her body so clearly is failing; yet she’s still so lovely. 

Our family and friends have been gathering with us to visit, grieve and say goodbye, or at least to get used to the idea. It’s hard. We’re sad and we have peace. Susan has peace. We feel so loved and supported and thankful. We treasure God’s presence, welcome his timing, and pray for her comfort and ours.

Hospice, week 14

At 14 weeks on hospice care, Susan’s status seems strangely stable. She continues her trend of less eating and drinking with more sleeping and unresponsiveness. This week she wasn’t interested in food from Tuesday through Thursday, but finally ate a bit of applesauce yesterday morning.

When I spoke with her hospice nurse during yesterday’s visit, he said the human body is an amazing resource. Looking up to God, he said we’ve been given all we need to survive with the smallest amount of nourishment. He told me in spite of all that’s going against her, she has no infection, no skin breakdown, the meds and nutrition she needs – she’s doing perfectly.

We’re left to continue our surreal existence with Susan sort of living and sort of dying, attended by the peace of God. We’re in a place we don’t want and don’t want to be rid of; dealing with a situation we didn’t start and can’t stop and can’t speed up or slow down. We can’t control such circumstances, so we accept them. Knowing the Living God as we do, we have comfort in yielding to him.

The holiness of it is that a precious human life waits in the center of our situation – Susan, my wife, our kids’ Mom, others’ loved one. She’s precious to us and greatly precious to God. We’re all focused on her and attending to her needs and her comfort. The holiness of it means God is present with us during these days for his will, his good plans for us, and his glory in it. We recognize that and accept it, and we don’t need to know why it’s happening or what will happen next. It’s all so weird and hard and okay.

We thank God for his presence and for the support of a community who prays, visits, brings meals, and shows love in lots of ways.

Six on the 4th

Things have changed by degree for Susan over the past week – persistent sleeping, hazy alertness, less food and water, few words. She’s unable to move her left arm now, like the rest of her limbs. Water comes by way of a two-ounce syringe since she’s not able to use a straw anymore. During a brief waking moment the other day, I told her I can see how she’s doing physically and asked, “But how’s your spirit? Do you still have peace?” “Yeah.” I knew she did, but hoped she could say it. It just feels good that we can still communicate.

Six years ago yesterday, I watched as Susan’s condition worsened at home. We were biding time until her scheduled brain surgery after her tumor biopsy the prior week. But her headache grew more intense that day and brought lethargy and vomiting. I helped her into the SUV and rushed to Long Beach Memorial, watching her fade as we drove. I parked near the ER entrance and began helping her out of the passenger seat when she passed out and slumped over. Was she dying? I remember saying “Susan, stay with me” sharply and hollered for someone to grab a wheelchair.

They admitted her in a blur; then came all the hook-ups, a CT scan, a visit from Pastor Ken, and some groggy, painful hours for her in ER that led to getting a bed in the neuro unit upstairs. I went home to rest but got a midnight call that she was in ICU on a ventilator following a seizure. I met Susan’s brother Randy there. We watched as she writhed and pulled at her restraints to yank the tube from her throat. I remember how that didn’t seem like Susan to me.

Those July 3^rd events brought her to emergency brain surgery the evening of July 4^th. Her family rushed home from Clearlake or booked flights from Colorado while friends left their patriotic parties to join the hospital vigil. We had lots of prayers and tears, and then great relief when she came out of surgery with a good report. What followed were the waves of treatment, healing, recurrence and complications of brain tumor world that have dominated our lives for the past six years. Now Susan is home on hospice care.

I think we’re as prepared as a family can be for days like these. I’ve been blessed by our children’s bravery and how their recent comments reveal acceptance. Lexie said she’s glad we’ve had this time to be with Mom while she’s on hospice, that it’s better this way than if she’d passed away more quickly. Austin said he’ll be relieved when Mom is in Heaven, healed in the presence of God instead of lingering here in her weakness. Adam said he assured Mom that she doesn’t need to stay here for our sake, that we’ll be okay, that she’s not letting us down when it’s her time to go. I’m so thankful that God has given us all such strength.

I’m encouraging them to tell their Mom what’s on their hearts. She can’t respond much, but she hears us. I asked them to imagine her not being here – if they think there’s something they wish they would have said to her, they should say it now. 

The Psalms continue to resonate as I read and pray with Susan in mind.

“But may all who seek you rejoice and be glad in you; may those who love your salvation always say, “Let God be exalted! Yet I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are my help and my deliver; O Lord, do not delay.” Psalm 70:4-5