- A little over 12 years ago, four-month-old Megan and I flew to Texas for two weeks to help my sister, Tess, and to stay with Connor and Cole while she went to Houston for treatment. Tess and I would walk the Austin mall searching for a new warm-up suit to fit her thinning body that she could wear that Christmas, which was her last.
- 12 years ago, we would hear a doctor say, “There’s nothing more we can do here (at M.D. Anderson). We’re sending her home to be placed on hospice care."
- 12 years ago I would fly back to Austin with now six-month-old Megan to hopefully spend some quality time with Tess before the cancer possibly changed her personality or affected her speech or consciousness.
- 12 years ago, I would walk in the front door of my sister’s home to see her lying in a hospital bed in front of the big picture window, make eye contact with her, and hear her raspy, weak voice say, “Hi Wee.”
- 12 years ago, I would sit for many hours by her bedside, hold her hand, rub her skin, place my warm hands on her cold feet, speak promises of scripture into her ear, join in song as her husband sang her favorite songs to her, or just…..sit and pray. I would watch as she looked wide-eyed up at the ceiling (seeing angels, I'm sure) or pointed off into the distance.
- 12 years ago, I would witness a horrendous scene - that of my sister having a grand mal seizure as a result of the pressure built up around her brain. From that point on, she basically was unconscious.
- 12 years ago, I would know what it’s like to be waiting for what seemed to be the inevitable. I would know what it was like for my sister’s friends, her church family, her Bible Study gals come to share their love for her or to say their good-byes.
- 12 years ago, I would know what it was like to actually be thinking that I'd rather see my sister go to heaven than to see her suffering continue.
- 12 years ago, I would actually look for various “signs of death” on my sister's body.
- 12 years ago, I would experience excitement as it seemed she was regaining consciousness, only to have it be possible because her body was no longer taking in fluids and the pressure around her brain was decreasing.
- 12 years ago, I would know that helpless feeling of hearing my sister’s lungs fill up with fluid and being unable to do anything about it. I would know what it was like to watch my sister struggle to even get a breath.
- 12 years ago, I would know what it was like to feel a warm, strong hand go cold and limp. To watch the flesh-colored skin turn to gray.
- 12 years ago, I would know what it was like to feel that final heart beat, pull out the feeding tube, and unhook the IV; to throw away all unused medications and supplies.
- 12 years ago, I would sit around the bed that held the empty body of my sister and reminisce about her life.
- 12 years ago, I would make the phone call to my husband telling him about my sister‘s death.
- 12 years ago, I would sit by, listening and watching Mom as she contacted family members and rehashed the painful details on every single phone call.
- 12 years ago, I would watch as the funeral director came to the house, placed my sister’s body in a black bag, and wheel it out of her house on a stretcher for the final time.
- 12 years ago, I would lie awake in bed next to my sleeping baby realizing how drastically my life had just changed.
- 12 years ago, I knew what it was like to hear plans of my sister's Texas funeral take place, to sit in on the meeting with the pastor and funeral director. I knew what it was like to receive cards, flowers, and phone calls saying, "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm praying for you."
- 12 years ago, I would love on her two young boys, who are left without their Mommy.
- 12 years ago and 1 day, I would wake up to an empty hospital bed in the living room, reminding me that my sister was no longer with us on this earth, but at home with her Creator ~ whole, healed and healthy.
- 12 years ago and 1 day, I would stand in my sister's closet and help pick out her burial dress. Later that day, I would fly back home to Iowa.
- 12 years ago and 2 days, I would take my husband to the airport and send him off to the Dominican Republic on a scheduled medical work team, then I would drive to Illinois and await my parents’ arrival back from Texas.
- 12 years ago, I would know what it was like to figure out what to wear to my big sister's Illinois funeral; learn how to eat when I wasn't hungry.
- 12 years ago and 6 days I would learn what it was like to see my big sister, lifeless, in a casket. I would know what it was like to see friends and family come say their final good-byes.
- 12 years ago and 7 days I would know what it was like to attend the funeral of my sister I knew for 29 years. I would know what it was like to watch my sister's body get buried in the ground, fully knowing her soul was at home in heaven. I would receive a rose from atop her casket.
- 12 years ago, I was learning what it was like to begin to live life without my sister.
- 12 years ago, I had no idea how those events would effect my life. God has been there through the struggles, the laughter, the tears, the life lessons, etc. He has seen our family through the 12 years Tess has been gone, and the evidence of His constant presence is very much alive.....in the life of the boys, in making their family whole again, as well as for us. It does make me sad, though, that I didn't get to share motherhood with her, home-schooling with her, my girls with her, my life with her. I still miss her very much. I miss her friendship. I miss her laughter. I miss her being only a phone call away. I miss our long talks. I miss her encouragement, her perspective, her positive attitude, her understanding. And, I miss her unending love.
But, it doesn't matter anyway ~ because I know what she has been doing the past 12 years. And the best part is, she doesn't have to come back to this sinful world ~ full of death, loss, heartbreak, hunger, tears, etc. But I get to go where she is and where our Father is, waiting for us. I get to run on the streets of gold and worship God as I, too, was made to do. That is the day I long for. So while these past 12 years have been far from easy, I look forward to time again with my sister where there will be no more cancer, no meds, no sin, no guilt, no shame, no regret...I long. I ache. I crave that day.
~Wee
And before bed, we iced one last time. Notice the hint of a smile. She was feeling better.
She has now gone six to seven hours between any meds, so we'll see how things continue to go. We have been so blessed to be surrounded by those of you who were covering her with prayer throughout today. We have truly been carried on those prayers! Thank you!
