When we were thrust into Susan’s life-and-death brain tumor journey six years ago, she and her care became the exclusive object of our attention. Lots of other things didn’t matter. Decisions about what to do today or next week or in months all played off how she was now or how she might be doing then. We learned to expect the unexpected and got along by praying all the time, hoping for the best, and being ready for anything.
Memories are weird. My consciousness of Susan a month ago was her still in bed like she had been for most of five months, her weakened body now paraplegic according to her nurse’s notes, and needing to be offered food or water if she wanted it. Peace prevailed for her; but it was a hard situation. We’re relieved that’s done. But my consciousness of Susan since she died is wider, freshly informed by photos chronicling her life and ours together. It’s youth, energy, vibrancy, maturity, joy, possibilities, life. I grieve in those memories. There’s not much relief there, just a lot of sadness for me.
While my sense of the future during Susan’s illness was bound with uncertainty about the outcome of her brain cancer, that’s been resolved. It’s done. Susan and I came to accept our circumstances in June of 2007, so I must do the same today. I’m working on that. It will take as long as it takes, so I’m making no demands of acceptance. I’m there mentally I think, so my emotions will trail along in their time.
Balance is important to me. I will not deny my grief, but if I focus just on me, pain and loss, I’ll become a thumb-sucking navel-gazer, to quote a favorite preacher. To counter self-pity, I've found it helpful to look up with gratitude to the Living God who sustained all of us so marvelously during our trial and with whom Susan now dwells in glory. Grief, relief, gratitude – I consider them all valuable. I’m amazed to think how both Susan’s confidence in God and her faith that Heaven would be more wonderful than we could imagine have been fulfilled for her. She’s with Him. There. Now – or whatever “now” means in Heaven. It’s thrilling, really.
I’ve been checking in with Lexie, Austin and Adam to know how they're doing. They’re okay, like me. It’s early. No one’s falling off the rails. Grief, relief, gratitude. Following such a profound conclusion three weeks ago, the future seems more open; time is perhaps a bit lighter, which is good.
To whatever degree you have followed our journey on this blog and elsewhere, you have measures of grief, too. I’ve become more aware of that lately from cards, notes, comments, and expressions of sympathy. We’re so thankful for your care, prayer and support for us, and all the ways you’ve expressed it. It means the world and had made a huge difference.
My high school classmate Connie Brown-Bennett was moved to write the following verses after Susan died and gave me permission to share. I may post other tributes in the coming days in the same way. This is so lovely and amazing:
Mike, I wasn't able to attend the funeral yesterday, but you and your family were in my thoughts and prayers. So much that late last night I wrote a poem/song inspired by Susan and you.
A woman of faith, a mother, friend, and wife. The love she had for others shone in her eyes. This world brought pain and suffering which she gracefully bore. Still trying to lift others, she fought hard but lost the war.Well done thou good and faithful servant. Well done oh sweet and precious one. Your life has been an inspiration. You are blessed. You are loved.A man of the Father, a husband, and a dad. With honor and courage held all that he had, bound together through their trials by the power of prayer, and his love never ending, in her need, he was there.Well done though good and faithful servant. Well done, oh true and goodly son. Your life has been and inspiration. You are blessed. You are loved.
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