The End Part 3: Going Home

A woman I consider my friend posted on her facebook today that she visited her Grandma in the hospital. Her grandma took my friend's hand and said "I want to stay here with my family but I want to go home too. I've lived a good long life." Wow.

Grandma :)

It reminded me of a few converstions I have had with my own grandma, who is in poor health. She lives in Lac La Biche with my grandpa who has also been having one health issue after another lately. They are far away from their immediate family, with my family living in Edmonton and myself and my husband residing in Calgary. They make frequent trips to Edmonton to see their doctors, but driving is becoming more and more perilous considering my grandpa's age and health, and the fact that my grandma is unable to drive. Everything seems to be against them. But she is one of the most inspiring women I have ever had the privilege to know.

She is filled with peace and joy. Every time I talk to her on the phone, she is excited; excited to be alive, excited about the Lord and her church community, and excited that her turn to enter Heaven is coming. It's weird to talk to her about death sometimes. She'll call out of the blue to keep me updated on her health, as well as that of my grandpa, and no matter if the news is good or bad she just says "oh well, I am ok. I am ready to go home." I want to have that peace when it is my time.

Fear often comes out of a lack of understanding. Perhaps that's why many people fear death. We don't understand how it might feel, what it might look like, or how our remaining family will cope. That's a lot to try to process. I admire my grandma. She doesn't analyze or seek in vain to completely understand. She just knows that she's on her way home.

-SP

Military Nightmare

I saw the newspaper sitting on our granite island this morning. On the front page of the National Post was a picture of Canadian troops in Afghanistan and a headline saying that troops may be staying in Afghanistan past the 2011 deadline. I cried.

My brother giving me away

My brother is in the military. He is in the infantry and loves his job. He's a typical male; most days I am sure that the biggest draw for him, along with the structured environment, is that he gets to shoot huge guns and blow things up. He's a man's man. He likes beer, Halo, driving his truck, UFC, and explosions. The military was a natural transition for him. I wish I could say the same for me.

When my brother left for basic training initially, I was a wreck. That was the catalyst to a long period of depression where I lost my appetite for food and fun entirely (along with 25 pounds I probably didn't have). I am lucky that my husband (we were dating at the time) was so strong for me. The day that my brother left, I went with my parents to the airport. I managed to hold it together for the most part, cried a little as he was about to go through security, took one last hug and looked back to wave, and then sat in silence as my parents drove me back to my car. My husband, who lived in Calgary at the time, was in Edmonton that weekend, and by the time I got home he had already let himself into my house. We went out for lunch, and as I drove to the restaurant my eyes filled with uncontrollable tears. I have never felt so alone.

For the next two weeks straight, I would cry these tears of immense sadness for hours on end. I would sit and watch a comedy, but would not laugh, and tears would silently fall from my face. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, and I didn't understand. I had no idea why I was so sad. My brother and I were close, meaning we had experienced a lot of things together both good and bad, but I never expected that him leaving would affect me so deeply. I was blindsided by utter grief, and it took months for me to be able to explain it.

I would sit with my counsellor, weeping, trying so hard to work through letting go of him while progressing in what I was there for; the abuse that was suffered when I was a child. I felt like I was getting no where. I felt like no one could help me, especially if I couldn't in some way help myself. I felt like the only person who could understand and who was on my side was gone. I later made some very devastating realizations about my relationship with him, but I will get into those at another time. They deserve their own space.

Back to this morning. My brother is being deployed next year. I knew this was coming. Overseas missions is the whole purpose of the military. But I had found some solace in the deadline. Knowing that Canadian troops were not going to be occupying Afghanistan in any way after December 31st, 2011, was comforting to me. But as I suspected, that could change in the next couple weeks. Canadian authorities, such as the defence minister, have been getting pressure from all sides lately. The Portuguese government, according to today's paper, has told Stephen Harper, and even Canadian entertainment acts, that they are not welcome there unless they make some kind of commitment to stay in Afghanistan.The Danish defense minister has also been in talks with ours, playing on our duty as allies.

I knew this would happen. It just terrifies me. It scares me that even though this a peaceful mission, he could die. I won't be able to see him again. It's bad enough that I will go nearly a year without seeing him, and probably won't hear from him often, if at all. And I have another brother who is eagerly awaiting the time when he comes of age and can enlist. That is about 7 months away. My heart will be ripped out once again (not quite to the same extent).

I'm not really sure how to take the news, how to process it, how to support my brothers with my whole heart. I love them and don't want to see anything happen to them, but I can never stand in the way of what they want. I selfishly wish that I could sometimes. But I can't. I shouldn't. I won't. So how do I support them, like I have always promised that I would, with this brokenness? With prayer and time and the Lord I will be able to one day. But for now I am conflicted and human.

-SP

The End - Part 1

I have been thinking about death lately, both my eventual death and how I may react if/when someone really close to my heart passes away. As I originally began writing, I had so many different things running through my head that I thought it best to split this topic into at least two parts, so that I can try and make sense of it all.


Let me first pose a few questions. What is your biggest fear when it comes to death? Is it how you will die? Is it that your loved ones won't be taken care of? Does it have nothing to do with your own demise at all, and perhaps you fear being left behind? Is it something else entirely? Or would you say that you don't fear death, and all that comes with it?


The Bible talks a lot about death. Do not fear it, God is bigger than it, it can't separate us from His love. But the reality is that I am human, and I do fear it. I sometimes think about how I might die. I sometimes wonder if I would have made a positive impact on people, or if I would be resented. I wonder if my family will be taken care of, and take care of themselves during their grief period in a healthy manner. But my biggest fear is not in me dying; it's in those I love dying.


My husband and I sometimes touch on the subject, and usually I end up in tears...I can't imagine my life without him. I don't know how and when I would move forward and live my life. I don't think I would ever be ready to live my life apart from my life partner. And then I think about my brothers and sister. Two of my brothers have military dreams; one is in the military, and the other is counting down the minutes until he gets to enlist. If I got news one day that one of them was killed in the line of duty, I would be absolutely beside myself. I imagine I would go into a deep depression, not wanting anything to do with friends, going on a solo vacation, and alienate myself from the rest of the world because of the hole in my heart. I fear that I would self-destruct.


I have lived a life of courage and strength far beyond my own. I have been blessed with the counsel of extraordinary friends and mentors. But nothing would scar my heart deeper than losing one of the six people that I love the most, and I'm not sure what it would take to be healed. Perhaps it is the lack of a measuring tool that I fear...there is no formula, no standardized time frame for grief to take it's course.


Then I think about my own death. It would be terrible to die painfully. But that seems far fetched and unlikely to happen. It would be hard to come to terms with a terminal illness, but I would enjoy every day of my short life. I am not afraid of when it is my time. But I rely heavily on the love and affirmation of my siblings and husband...that is not something I could easily live without.

The six people have have my heart entirely

Let me ask again, and feel free to comment.


What is your biggest fear when it comes to death? Is it how you will die? Is it that your loved ones won't be taken care of? Does it have nothing to do with your own demise at all, and perhaps you fear being left behind? Is it something else entirely? Or would you say that you don't fear death, and all that comes with it? Hmmm...


-SP