All our Lives are Better Because of our Laudable Leah!

I started this blogsite with the intention of honoring the people in my circle for the ways in which my world was a better place because of them.  And, for the most part, I have acknowledged friends, family and colleagues.  The person I have chosen to honor today was an acquaintance of mine for many years.  We weren’t ‘friends’ … but we had a few mutual friends and our paths intersected occasionally because we both lived in a very small town.

I recall one of the first times we rubbed shoulders was several decades ago when a group of us went out carolling around our tiny town at Christmas time.  I was belting out my best rendition of “Jingle Bells” or “Joy to the World” or whatever the song happened to be when she turned around to identify the ‘songstress’ behind her. I could see by the slightly quizzical look on her beautiful face that her finely tuned ears were detecting the err in my tone and pitch! Ha ha. It didn’t even hurt my feelings … because although I am good at a fair number of things … singing is certainly not one of them. 🙄

That said … she had an exceptional ear for music … and singing is certainly one of her gifts.  Just one of her MANY gifts!  Whether she be the lead singer in a band … acting on stage … directing a play  … strumming on a guitar … mothering her three cherubs … teaching music to preschoolers … or … becoming the queen of selfies  …  Leah Meier always lights up the space around her with her ready laugh and lighthearted spirit!  And, over the years, I am grateful to say I have had the opportunity to become more and more acquainted with the luminous light that is Leah! There are rare individuals that you want in your circle and Leah is definitely one of them. I am so glad that, now, I get to call her my ‘friend’.

And, it’s been a gift to invited deeper into her inner circle. It has been nothing short of magnificent to watch this tribe of women who continue to inspire me with the ways in which they show up for each other … and … in the world. They have been through so much together, but very recently, something unthinkable happened.

On June 19th, 2018, Leah was diagnosed with colorectal cancer with metastasis to her liver and possibly her lungs.  Yes. Cancer. Stage IV.  And, while many of us would fold inward with such a devastating diagnosis, that is not how Leah chose to respond. No. As she shared:

Being an active, otherwise healthy individual, my team of doctors and family opted for an aggressive treatment plan. I was to start six rounds of three different chemotherapy medications immediately. Thankfully I was able to receive my treatments at the Jack Ady Cancer Center in Lethbridge.

After the fifth round of chemotherapy I had another MRI. Great News! The spots on my lungs were cysts and the remaining four suspected metastases had shrunk considerably and one was likely just a cyst. I was able to undergo just one surgery on November 9, 2018, for both my colon and liver! I recovered from surgery with no complications and started my next round of chemotherapy just four and a half weeks after surgery. Everything that needed to happen has happened and it appears that I have had a complete radiological response to treatment in my liver and the colon tumour was removed with incredibly good margins!

Now … most folks would simply be grateful for an encouraging outcome.  No. Not Leah. She rallied her tribe and decided that once she was well enough, she was going to use this tragic situation as a way to serve the greatest good.  And that is exactly what she did!  She signed up to participate in the Ride to Conquer Cancer. And, as she shared in her public bio:

I was told that as recently as five years ago, my prognosis and treatment options would have been very different and a path for cure would not have been likely. My life has been impacted, likely saved, due to very recent cancer therapy advancements! I’m able to receive treatments at the Jack Ady Care Facility in Lethbridge instead of having to drive three hours to Calgary. I’ve sat in comfy chemo chairs, been covered in warm blankets and received incredible care from an outstanding team of doctors, nurses and staff in both Lethbridge and Calgary.

The Ride To Conquer Cancer helps fund all of the above and so much more! The money raised stays in our province and truly makes a difference to those of us having to face this horrible disease.

I had my last chemotherapy on February 20, 2019, and am so excited to be starting on my journey toward renewed health, strength and experiences that await me in my life!

THANK YOU for considering a donation, whatever the size. Every dollar you donate means a dollar more towards conquering cancer!

The tag line for this annual event is:

“BE EPIC.  Two days. Over 200kms. Conquer Cancer”  

And, as if training for the 200km ride was was not enough for her to shoulder … not long after Leah finished her chemo treatments … she decided to create an additional Fundraiser!  Within no time at all, she had sold out the tickets for this fabulous dinner, dance and a silent auction! She was committed to raising as much money as she possibly could for cancer research. And, true to form, she marked the evening with one of her trademark selfies!

Just look at all the people who turned out to support this amazing soul! And, the retired band in which she had been a lead singer, offered to come together again and play the music so we could dance up a storm!  And … Leah graced us with her sensational songbird skills! It was such a remarkable evening!!

And, I know that training for this ride … after all the cancer treatments she had been through … was grueling!  But … she not only trained hard herself, but she invited others to join “Team Leah”.  And, she rallied together a most fabulous team!

And her efforts were an enormous success … nothing short of EPIC indeed!  She has always been known for inspiring so many with her bright light ..and … this was no different. As her best friend Angie shared on Facebook on August 18th:

What a weekend…..what a ride….. Feeling so blessed! Leah you are and always have been my HERO!! There is nothing you can’t and won’t do once your mind is made up. This was a huge undertaking and my friend you know very well that I thought you were nuts🤪But you kept reassuring me that you could and would do this and you did. 12 rounds of very aggressive chemo, a major surgery and recovery…. No wait….straight to training for a 200 km Ride To Conquer Cancer. I will never doubt you again ever😜 You are a force to be reckoned with …and I am so blessed to call you my best friend, soul sista and my Rock! So very very proud of my Husband…. Maria, Sydney, Nicki, Shelah, Ryan, Jill, Chris you guys slayed this ride!! #Enbridge Ride To Conquer Cancer #rideab #dontstopbelieving🧡💛💚♥️🚴🚴‍♀️🚴‍♂️

And, it was really something to behold. As Leah, herself, shared in a Facebook post on August 20, 2019:

WE DID IT!!! From start to finish this has been the most amazing experience!!! ❤️🚴‍♀️🙏 A HUGE Thank you to everyone who donated to our ride!!! Together we raised $51,333.68 which put Team Leah 18th out of 167 teams for most money raised and this year’s ride totalled $5.9 MILLION!!! HOW COOL IS THAT!?!?! 🚴‍♀️😃 Crossing the finish line with so many family and friends there to cheer us on was honestly one of the most joyous moments of my life!! I am beyond grateful to all of you who have embraced me my family and my team and supported us through it all!! ❤️🚴‍

EPIC! Absolutely epic. And so … through it all, I was left entirely amazed, awed and inspired by the force of light that is Leah! Her lively, light-hearted luminosity goes way beyond description. I also want to take this moment to thank Leah for her endless gifts of courage and compassion and caring!  Her efforts already have and will continue to benefit so many others who are diagnosed with cancer. 

As I shared with her in a private Facebook Message:

Good Morning Leah!
I hope this little note finds you basking in the after glow of your tremendously successful achievements! I can’t even begin to put into words how I aspired I am by your infinite capacity to take a personal challenge and create a movement of benevolence that benefits all of mankind. You are an exceptional soul and I am so grateful to call you my friend! Sending you biggest hugs of deepest admiration, respect and love for the miracle of YOU!

I wish I could tell you that Leah’s story ended on that positive note … but … it did not. I had learned from a mutual friend that Leah’s husband had been diagnosed with prostate cancer. I was so troubled to hear the news that I sent off another message on January 17th over Facebook to let her know that I was thinking of her. I was shocked to learn that things had taken even more unexpected turns when she responded to my invitation to get together for coffee or wine by saying:

Just wondering if you know I’m in Calgary this weekend? Had lung surgery on Thursday.

Good grief!  No. I was not aware of that! I knew that the doctors had detected some dark spots on her liver and on her lungs when they initially discovered her cancer, but I was not aware that she had already undergone surgery on one of her lungs. She updated us on a few days later with some good news:

Hi!! Surgery went well!!He was able to get all three spots with wedge resections and Thoroscopic. Loss of only about 10% vs 25-30% with the lobectomy he might have had to do. I’m already home and now anxiously await pathology. I should hear in next 7-10 days. I’m able to manage pain with very small dose of morphine combined with alternating Tylenol and Advil. First hurdle. I hope we get to see each other soon my friend!! …

And sadly, the pathology report confirmed that she would require surgery on the other lung as well. Not the news she wanted to hear. We were finally able to have a much awaited visit and a glass of wine on March 3 at 3:00pm. It was then that I learned the extent of all that she had been enduring … her step brother had died as well.  And, if that wasn’t enough, Covid-19 was added to the mix and all elective surgeries were postponed because hospitals were preparing for the influx of people who might need medical supports to survive coronavirus. 

And then Leah learned that her surgeon was in mandatory isolation because he had been travelling. As a result, she had a big decision to make. She opted to put her faith in her surgeon’s colleague and have him perform the operation instead. She said she was nervous, but felt it was the right decision.

I was, once again, left in awe of Leah’s capacity to resiliently roll with whatever life tossed in her path. And, it was incredible to watch her courageously lean into all the uncertainties with courage and hope and faith. I knew that the risks she was facing included the potential for compromised capacity for mobility and singing and living a full life because some of her lung needed to be removed. She pushed forward. Her surgery was on March 23rd and she came home on March 26th because they wanted to get her out of the hospital to reduce her risk of contracting Covid-19.  On March 30th, I received this exciting message from her saying:

Good Morning!! One week cancer free!!!!  Could it be!?!?

I could feel the joy and healing and well-being in her spirit!  I could not even fathom the liberation she must be feeling … because for the first time in a couple of years … she might get to abide in that bliss-filled space of being ‘cancer free’

We also had a long conversation on another morning. It was beautiful to connect and hear how she was finding her way through her own healing journey … with the full knowledge that she was also preparing for another journey with her husband. Her hubby’s surgery was scheduled for May 14th, and because of Covid-19, it was determined that he would not be allowed to have anyone with him. Seriously! This was their truth …

I tried to imagine what it would be like to be going through such a tentative time with no one by your side. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have your loved one going through such adversity and not to be able to lay your eyes upon them to reassure yourself of their well being.  I wished I could reach out with some supportive sentiments, but I found no words. Nothing seemed like the right thing to utter. It’s so hard to know what on earth to say when people are going through hellish times. All I could do was send love and light through the ethers … and … hope that they could feel it. Her hubby found his way home shortly after his surgery. There were some bumpy patches, but slowly they found their way through it all together. 

And then guess what happened??  Leah decided it was time to ride again in 2020!! Once again … I was in complete awe of her  capacity to pick herself up and move forward with a firm resolve.  One morning when Leah and I were chatting over the phone while having our morning coffee, I was sharing how inspired I was by her willingness to ride again … and … lamenting that I would not be able to support her by joining Team Leah because … as I emphatically indicated to her … I absolutely detest bike riding. Although, I love, love, love to walk … and … while I make it a regular practice to log oodles of kilometers with my Bestie (Marie) … for countless reasons, not even this noble cause could get my head in a helmet and my buttocks onto one of those hard seats for 200kms. Nope. Nada. Not this girl. 

My resistance did not deter Leah in the least. I could hear her voice light right up when she said, “Well, you could walk it then. You and Marie could join the team and walk 100 kms.”  Well now … she had a point. 

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is leah-make-the-word-a-better-place.jpg

This option seemed absolutely thrilling to me!!  My Bestie and I had actually committed to walking the Road to Santiago (aka the ‘Camino’ trail)  in Spain in September of 2020.  It is a highly travelled route that is almost 1000kms in it’s entirety for spiritual seekers who venture out on these remarkable ‘pilgrimages’.  Anyway, my Bestie and I were booked to complete the final 100km leg of the pilgrimage. Our flights and accommodations had been reserved. I had purchased a special day pack and new walking shoes. We were so excited! And then …. Covid-19 dashed all those plans.

And so, when Leah suggested that we walk 100kms for Cancer … it felt absolutely right. So guess who jumped at the chance to join Team Leah?  Yep!!  Me and my Bestie!!  With this decision, we still had an opportunity to complete our 100km pilgrimage. We just altered the locale to suit this particular moment in our collective history … and … our personal intention to support Leah’s personal journey.  We affectionately called it our “Covid Camino for Cancer.”  We already walked regularly so we wanted to stretch ourselves a bit to make sure that our efforts on behalf of the Ride to Conquer Cancer were challenging us enough. To that end, we committed to walk at least 20kms per day over five days.

And that is exactly what we did!  It was such an honor to join Team Leah 2020 and raise some funds for cancer research. We logged just over 100 kilometers along a variety of different routes … and … felt incredibly humbled by the whole experience.

 

Yes. It was an absolute honor to join Team Leah. It remains an absolute honor to be connected to the EPIC energy of Leah  … she is such a lively, lovely and laudable lightworker! I actually started writing this blog in honor of Leah a couple of years ago. I wanted to honor her journey and express to her (and all those who might read this tribute) how I continue to be inspired not just by what she does and by how she does it, but also by who she is! Her being-ness is so rare and exceptional.

Did I mention that she is now planning to bring her team together to bring the musical Chicago to life at a local theater  in 2022?  I could hear all her enthusiasm and excitement as she described it:

“Roaring 20’s show in this decades post virus roaring 20’s”

Yes. Her presence on the planet is such a rare gift. Our collective human existence is infinitely better because Leah has consciously chosen to ensure that it is. So many people have and will continue to benefit from the fruits of her labors. I worried as I penned this blog that I couldn’t possibly honor all the brightness of Leah sufficiently, but I wanted to offer this reflection of my experience to really celebrate her … and … to publicly acknowledge and recognize all that she is and all that she does. 

I wish I could say that the challenges for Leah ended with this tribute here … in complete celebration of her and her victorious win in the battle with cancer. I wish we could wrap things up on such a high note. But, unfortunately, we cannot do that just yet. There is more to Leah’s story.

After almost three years, and just when Leah thought she might finally be able to focus her gaze beyond fighting for the cure … she got some more dark and unwelcome news.  In one of her check-ups, they detected another spot on one of her lungs.  It is deep in her lung so she’ll need to have a lobectomy instead of the wedge resection like she had last time. Gah. They might not be able to do it laparoscopically … which means a much longer recovery. They first had to biopsy a lymph node that showed up on her pet scan. Fortunately … it appears to be no cause for concern. Whew.

And while we breathe a sigh of relief with that news … it is sobering to consider that losing half of her lung in the next surgery is the good news! Can you imagine finding yourself in that frame of reference? And yet, one of the things that has always amazed me about Leah is her ability to keep her wits about her despite the circumstances. While I know that she is deeply impacted by all the things that continue to challenge her path, I am reminded of an exchange we had way back on April 15, 2020. I received this private message from her:

This morning as I’m hanging laundry and struggling to catch my breath and thinking about strategies to continue to move towards healing, etc.

I asked God “How many times do I need to pick myself up off the ground!!?? 😩

I instantly heard loud and clear… “As many times as it takes” 💕

Pretty simple really…

Simple … and yet … certainly not easy. I just recently had another conversation with Leah. We were chatting about this long arduous journey that had befallen her. In the middle of it … she offhandedly said “Maybe I should take my own advice?” She had been expressing some frustration with having to deal with something “again” … and that is when she reminded herself that she would just needed to address it “as many times as it takes”.

Leah’s next surgery is scheduled for Monday … March 8th. She will be ‘checking in’ at 5:00am and the surgery is scheduled to start at 7:30am. I am hoping all of you reading this will join us as we hold her close in heart … and … help flood the ethers by sending much good juju and healing energy in her direction. Please join us in offering a prayer for a swift and successful surgery. May we also collectively invite the Universe to afford her a speedy and miraculously comfortable recovery. She has done so much for the benefit of others … and … I would like her to know that we are all holding her energetically in optimal health, effortless healing and complete recovery.

May we join her in spirit as she once again rises above the situation that has darkened her path … and … may we collectively reify her tenacity to triumph and thrive, once again, despite this unwelcome twist. Due to Covid-19 she may need to face this surgery all alone in the hospital. I am hoping that we can send so much love and support through the ethers that even if she isn’t allowed to have anyone by her side in the flesh … she will not feel alone … because she will be palpably wrapped up in our energetic presence!!

And with this surgery, Leah … I know if anyone can glow through all of this … it is YOU! And, I just want to remind you that each and every one of us reading this here is fanning the flames of your well-being … and … waiting to celebrate your swift recovery with you!!

Wrapping you with so much love and looking so very forward to our next chat … 🧡 Karen 🧡

Better Because of Our 13 Days …

Geraldine Fay Lindquist Johnson

She’d been in my life for 43 years.  For much longer than my own mom … who died when I was 31.  I remember when she excitedly extended her hand to show me her rings. I had travelled 1195 kilometers to visit with her and my dad. Sick. I felt entirely sick. She never said a word, but her eyes were twinkling as brightly as the diamonds perched prominently on her left ring finger. It took everything within me to bite back the tears in order to feign ample and appropriate enthusiasm. Seriously … how could they get married without even telling me??  I never asked. Some things feel better left unsaid.

And so, I always spoke of her as “my dad’s wife”. However, some 15 or 20 years (!!) later, I actually came upon the truth. She had no idea I believed they were married. It was all a complete misunderstanding. The truth was that she had been working on him relentlessly … begging for matrimony … for years!  But for reasons known only to my very stalwart father … he steadfastly refused to remarry. I could sense the pain of rejection in her heart because as she said … for a woman of her generation … it would be particularly shameful for her to die an “old maid”or “spinster”.  And so, to spare herself any public embarrassment, she adopted his last name and wore her wedding rings very proudly.  I got it. 

All she ever wanted was to be a wife and mother.  But my dad died unexpectedly without ever officially saying “I do” to her.  And, although she had also pressed me to call her “mom” … I’m not sure I much embraced her as a parental figure. I guess the whole decades long belief that they had been ‘wedded without me’ had made her his ‘wife’ in my eyes, but certainly not my ‘stepmom’. Instead, I opted to affectionately call her“Ger” instead of Gerri … and … she fondly called me “Kar” instead of Karen.

In addition to my own little family, I was all Ger had left after my dad died.  And, at 82, she was still living on her own.  We had looked into alternate spaces, but it distressed her terribly to think of leaving the home she had shared with my dad.  I had finally convinced her that she needed to wear a Life Alert because she was getting less stable on her feet and had fallen a couple of times.

Celebrating her 82nd birthday …

Ger’s health had always been tentative … and she had regularly experienced days when she was laid up … feeling “punk”.  Usually it was because she had bitten off more than she could chew … trimming branches on trees, moving furniture, shampooing the carpets etc – by herself.  Yes.  I said by herself.  When she got an idea in her head, she had no patience to wait for help to arrive.  And so, she often overdid it and paid the price.

But, the malaise that preceded her landing in ER on July 31, 2017 had persisted for nearly three weeks.  When I got stern with her – questioning her reticence to call her doctor – she admitted she was scared about what he might have to say. She had a stint put in some years ago, carried nitroglycerin in her purse and took baby aspirin regularly. Perhaps her ticker was acting up again?

It appears that she was very intuitive indeed …  something was, in fact, very wrong. 

When she got out of bed the next morning … she took a few steps and collapsed.  Thank goodness for her Life Alert button!  And so … we found ourselves in the ER … utterly dumbfounded … staring at each other … in wide-eyed disbelief. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon on that fateful Monday and the day had already taken some very unexpected and unfavorable turns. There would be tests and more tests.

And may I say that for as long as Ger has been part of my life, she has always caught me up short by hastily forging head-first into foreboding territory.  She always dives in long before I am emotionally prepared to tackle any such precarious terrain.  I am far more tentative and reflective about everything in my life.  I prefer to tip-a-toe in tentatively and get a sense of things before I move forward with unfettered conviction. But not Ger … she has always preferred to swoop into action … immediately.

It was the same when my dad died very unexpectedly during a summer BBQ on July 12, 2009.  He had just filled his plate … and enthusiastically declared “This is great!”  And then … he was gone.

Ger needed to be ‘doing’ things to help her process her grief.  I, on the other hand, needed time to simply ‘be’ with the loss before I could think about making decisions or taking actions that could not be undone.  It definitely created some emotional tension for both of us as we mourned the loss of the same man. Nothing wrong with either approach … but … this particular Monday was proving to be no different.

She needed to know, right then and there … and … did not hesitate to ask the attending ER physician just how long she could expect to live. I expected him to defer by saying it would be premature to guess until the prognosis had been officially confirmed.  But, much to my chagrin, he responded:

“Maybe two months.” 

Whoa. What??  My mind frantically raced for some way to process this blindside.  Yesterday was just a normal Sunday.  We had a conversation on the phone.  I was looking forward to having this particular Monday off work so I could nibble away at my ‘to-do’ list. And, in all honesty, I was still trying to process the death of my father-in-law (who had died just two months prior) . And his passing was fairly hot on the heels of the death of his wife … my mother-in-law (just 7 months prior to that).  We were already knee deep … maybe chin deep … into the grieving process. I instinctively resisted.

“We can’t be certain Ger.  At this point, it’s all just speculation.” 

But she was already making plans.  I respected the gravity of her situation enough to know that if this was going to be the last leg of her journey … I needed to honor her desires to do it her way.  And so, in order to keep up, I opened a new tab in my Wunderlist  App … and labeled it “Gerri”.  I started making notes as she determined, discussed and directed what she wanted taken care of before she, too, departed this earthly plane.  I left the hospital late in the evening, in utter disbelief … hoping that ‘tomorrow’ would be a better day.

On Tuesday morning, August 1st, I returned bright and early … and … Ger was still making plans. I promised to take her cat, Scamper, home to live with me. She gave me her banking pass code and asked me to update her bank book.  I’m not sure why her finances were important in THAT moment, but she needed to be sure that OAS had given her the increase she was expecting. Can do.  And … she reckoned that one of the family best take and use the expensive silky cover off her built-in vacuum hose. She’d paid a pretty penny for it … no sense leaving that gem for a renter. Okay.  And … she wondered about how she would die … would she suffer? Would she suffocate, would she choke … would her heart take her? Gulp.

I compassionately searched deeply into her eyes and asked if she was scared. She confirmed that if she let herself think about it, she felt frightened. She looked down for a moment and then pensively uttered,“What if … what if I am denied entry at the pearly gates?”

For a split second, I could feel the weight of that worry hanging heavily in her heart. And then, with her next breath she moved quickly past that uncomfortable query and determined that her electric fireplace  would look great on a particular wall in the spacious bedroom of her grand-daughter’s new house. Agreed. She was delighted that another of her grand-daughters could use the stand up freezer. Excellent. And the desks … she wanted me to have her antique desk and tea cart. For sure.  I was squirming internally as she so casually discussed such things.

I told her it felt entirely awkward, inappropriate and insensitive to be discussing the dispersal of her belongings. Some things feel better left unsaid. She assured me that it pleased her so very deeply to know that her legacy would live on in the belongings that would be enjoyed by those she loved. And, she declared that she didn’t want a funeral. Okay. She wanted us to have a nice family dinner and just talk about her instead. Fair enough.  But, I found myself offering an alternate perspective:

“Ger, let’s wait until they do more tests.  They could be mistaken.  The mass they spotted in your lung might not be fatal.”

How does one even begin to integrate such news  when the big “C” was never ever … not for one moment … a prior concern in one’s eight decades of life.  They did more tests. And more scans.  They needed to consult with the oncologist and the lung specialist.  She reminded me to take her ashes, her mother’s ashes and my dad’s ashes to a specified place. We ordered her a TV so she could keep up with The Young and the Restless.  It occurred to me that we’d need a schedule so we could take turns watering her lawn and feeding Scamper while she was in hospital.

Wednesday, August 2nd … they did a biopsy on the tumor and were going to do a brain scan when her heart acted up again.  They ended up losing her at one point. Gone. Her room was empty when I arrived to visit. After a bit of panic … they sympathetically told me that my ‘mom’ had been moved to ICU. I never corrected them. They used the paddles to revive her. It was shortly after that they got the results of the biopsy and they discovered she also had MRSA.  It’s a super bug  … an infection that is highly resistant to treatment. It seemed prudent to get the Power of Attorney signed. It was entirely surreal … and … unraveling far too quickly for me.

Thursday, August 3rd … the doc came in to confirm the diagnosis. Yes. Cancer. Stage 4.  A small cell type that spreads quickly.  They believe it started in her lung about six to 12 months prior and confirmed that it had already spread to her adrenal glands and her liver. It had also metastasized into her lymph system and likely into her bones.

No emotion or tears on her part.  Just more action. She decided to sell us her car so it wouldn’t get caught up in probate. It occurred to me that I should probably take her purse home for safekeeping.  I reckoned I should bring her slippers. She thought maybe an ice cream would taste good. Funny where the mind goes in a moment like that.

When the oncologist arrived for rounds, she asked again: “how long”?  Perhaps two months … unless it was in her brain. She slipped up and later told someone she had two weeks.  I corrected her.  No Ger … the doc said two months. She second guessed me by asking if I was sure about that. Yep. I was sure. The tests had confirmed it was not in her brain.

Hmmm. She was sure she had about two weeks. The oncologist was gentle and kind and recommended palliative care. And she started planning again.

Because of the contagious nature of MRSA, visitation was counter-indicated for many.  We had to mask-up, glove-up and gown-up completely to be in her presence.  A few of the family came to visit, but for the better part of her hospitalization … it was mostly just me and Ger.

Monday, August 7th … Myrna (Ger’s late brother’s wife) made the long trip from Saskatchewan.  I could sense Ger’s delight with her arrival. They had remained very dear friends. And, she seemed tickled with our three-way conversation.  At one point … in true “Granny style” (as my girls would fondly suggest)  Ger looked at both Myrna and I and fervently exclaimed:

” After all of this … if I don’t die … I’m going to be really pissed off!”

We all burst into laughter at the paradoxical nature of her comment.  I suggested that maybe instead of having a dinner after she passed, maybe she could join us in a family feasting when she moved into Palliative Care whereby she could “eavesdrop” on our conversation about her.  Well, she thought that would be okay … but … could we have a dinner in her honor afterwards, too?  Of course. And we’ll be sure to serve Lucy’s famous chocolate cake!  Lucy is my son-in-law’s lovely mother … and … her chocolate cake recipe has become a family favorite!

Tuesday, August 8th … we talked about the things she could do to decorate her new home in palliative and make it feel like home.  The white shag carpet.  Perhaps an armchair … if there was space? Maybe we could sneak Scamper in for a final visit?  Maybe we could smuggle in a ‘go cup’  filled with her favorite Royal Red wine … aka “Granny’s swill” ?  She hastily put the brakes on that idea.  She was entirely averse to getting evicted from palliative care before she got settled in.  We laughed … and yet … there was something sobering about the absurdity of all that we were so casually discussing.

Her decline was rapid. The very next day, she unexpectedly lost some lucidity.  She told Myrna she was quite sure she had died at 2:17pm.  And, by the following day, she was unable to speak with any comprehensive coherence. And, it was becoming more and more difficult for her to breathe.  They cancelled her transfer to palliative.

And so, true to form, even in her dying … Ger wasted no time. Once again … her pace was far too fast for me to process comfortably.   And ultimately … she was right. It wasn’t two months. It wasn’t even two weeks.  It was 13 days …

At some point during our last 13 days together, Ger told me that she came into the world alone … lived most of her life alone … and … expected to die alone.  In that moment, my heart ached for her … because in so many ways … she was right.  Her father had been murdered. Her mother could be quite abusive.  My father – her spouse – was emotionally disconnected. She had limited contact with her brother before he died young of melanoma. She had endured a whole lot of trauma and abandonment in her life. The stories she recanted broke my heart.

And … I could not deny that I, too, had contributed to her sense of loneliness. I was often too busy to make her a priority. It takes 1.5 hours round trip to get to Ger and all our family from where I live … so a quick pop-in every now and again was just not possible.  I had gone back to school as a mature student to complete my BSW as well as my MSW … and …  was also employed  as a counselor in my community along with running a small private practice of my own on the side. I have one husband, three daughters and eight grandchildren …  so … the pulls for my attention are/were persistent and plentiful. In addition to that … within the last three years … the demands on my time had become increasingly intensified as my aging and ailing in-laws health deteriorated and their medical needs and chronic crises eclipsed any predictability in our lives. I am also a landlord with four rental properties. In all honesty … I had been struggling to keep all those balls in the air and had become entirely depleted trying to do so.

That said, I did my best to ‘be there’ for Ger … but … I always knew my best wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted and/or deserved in terms of my time and attention. And, in all honesty, it troubled my heart to know I was falling short of her expectations. And so, with an ache in my heart for my inability to make the days of her life less lonely … I committed myself to being there ‘with’ her and showing up fully ‘for’ her … during her final journey home. I let her know I was “all hers” for the duration.

I spent some long days with her at the hospital. I really didn’t want her to be alone when she passed. The staff knew me as her ‘daughter’ and referred to Ger as my ‘mom’.  I never corrected any of them. Some things feel better left unsaid.  In fact, I could feel Ger’s heart swell with these new terms of reference in the space. And, in all honesty … it felt really good to me too.

As it turned out … she waited until I had gone home for the night on Saturday, August 12th. The nurse called me, just a couple of hours after I left, to say that my mom had taken her last breath while they were making their rounds and tending to her comfort.  I was surprised by how hard it hit me. I thought I was prepared …

It was to be our 40th wedding anniversary the next day. I didn’t feel like celebrating. So we didn’t. And, although it does my heart good to know that she wasn’t actually ‘alone’ when she passed because she had the nursing staff with her … it still struck me that Ger was being a bit of a ‘stinker’ for not letting me be there when she transitioned. My daughter suggested that perhaps she waited until I was gone because she, in fact, didn’t want to leave me alone when she passed. Hmmmm … I still tear up when I think of it that way.

We hired a Life Celebrant  (thank you Shelly Bassett!)  who met with us in advance to gather our recollections … and … she composed a beautiful ‘life story’ honoring Ger/Granny. Shelly orated this meaningful tribute to her as we gathered in a large circle in our back yard on a very warm, sunny day.  Our celebration was complete with all of Ger’s very favorite things … including taco in a bag!  Her grand-daughters and I wore pieces of her favorite jewellery and we toasted her with her ‘swill’ and some Japanese ‘sake’ that she had liked to share with her grandsons.  It turned into far more than just the conversation she wanted us to have about her. I recorded it … and … we have a printed copy of the ‘story’ of Ger/Granny and all she meant to us.

Ger took great pride in her home and took such impeccable care of things.  I have updated my own space with so many beautiful things of hers.  Her energy is now present in each room of my house.  By the way, I discovered a number of ‘spreaders’ in her kitchen drawers.  I took three of them home with me and passed the others on to my daughters. I figured if she had more than one, they must be good.

Well … I am not sure how I lived almost 60 years without one!   Who knew they would make such a culinary difference!   I bought new ones for all my daughters!  I even bought one for my bestie!  If you don’t own one … or … haven’t tried one … I highly implore you to allow Gerri’s legacy to touch your life too, in this small way.

As I was going through her belongings, I came across something in her most precious memorabilia. Many years ago, one of the ways I attempted to combat the commercialization of  Christmas, was to have us make homemade gifts for one another and attach a meaningful affirmation to each other. I discovered she had saved them. And  … I share one year of our affirmations of her with you here because they offer a beautiful snapshot of just who she was to all of us:

And, I absolutely sobbed when I came across one she had kept that my dad  … the man who refused to marry her … had written:

THAT she was.  My dad’s life was irrefutably better because of my step-mom. His prior lived experience had carved some pretty sharp edges into him … but she loved him unconditionally … even during the times when he could be pretty darn difficult to love. And, she cared for him tenderly and compassionately during the most fragile and unbecoming moments of his own journey with cancer.  And, she tended to him with her whole heart … and … she never failed to make him her utmost priority in life.  Ever.

And, I must also add, that Ger’s life was undeniably better because of him.  He offered her more safety and security than she had ever experienced within her family of origin. And that doesn’t mean their relationship was all roses and sunshine. No.  A union of two wounded souls cannot be without its darkness. But, in all honestly … I could see that they were unarguably, the answer to each of their prayers.

Ger and I had eight years together after my dad passed, but … I can honestly say that our last 13 days became a cherished time of deeper connection for us.  We were able to  meet each other in that sacred place beyond the accidental hurts, misunderstandings and unmet expectations that sometimes prickled between us.  And instead … we embraced a felt sense of the unconditional parts of the love that we also held for one another.

With the deepest of reverence, I came to appreciate her idiosyncratic way of being in the world … not as my dad’s wife, but as my step-mom. Yes. It was truly a blessing to be gifted with that space and time … a divinely orchestrated opportunity to ‘be’ with each other in deep, unfettered and meaningful ways.

And so Ger …  I really want to “thank you” for launching promptly into action even before they could confirm your diagnosis. Were it not for that, I would never have been so aware of all your wishes.  And, I remain committed to honoring each and every one of them … except one.

Please accept my sincerest apologies  … but I didn’t bring Scamper home with me the day you died … as I had promised.  Through an amazing turn of events, I became aware of a youngster who really, really wanted to have him.  And I suspect you will forgive me, because as I look at this picture of the two of them together, it appears to be a match made in Heaven.  That said, I am wondering … if perhaps … you somehow had a hand in orchestrating this sublime alternative for your furry feline.

And ultimately … I need you to know Ger … I have been shifted and stretched to a better version of myself as a result of our precious 13 days together.  You taught me that there is something deeply transformational about sitting with the dying. I erroneously assumed that being with you was going to be my gift to you … but … I can see now that … the gift was mine.

I feel so very blessed to have shared that sacred space with you and I remain humbled by the love and energy in our final moments together. Thank you for loving me … like every good mother would do. Always. In your own special way. And thank you for caring so deeply about me … as your only daughter.

My home is filled with reminders of you … and … I will carry so much of your spirit in my heart as I greet all the days yet to come. I hope I can bring some of your feisty energy with me into our family celebrations.  Your generous heart will be missed in more ways than you can imagine.

Thank you again Ger … I am truly so much better because of your presence in my life … and especially … because of our precious last 13 days together,  ❤ Kar ❤

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