My family, with my big brother Kevin in the middle.
It's been a hard week. Actually, it's been a hard several weeks, but this past week takes the cake.
As I type this with one hand due to my broken right wrist, I am looking down at the cards and notes that have been sent to us this week. I am in awe of how loved we are and we didn't even know it. I am so thankful for friends and family who gathered around us in a time of need to hold us together. I'm thankful for friends who fed us and cleaned for us, and for money and gift cards for food and groceries that were collected to help replace my lost income. Each day I was met with kind and compassionate words through cards, texts, visits and phone calls. My goodness, how people have loved on us!
This awful saga began a few weeks ago just after a relaxing cabin trip with friends during fall break. We were cleaning up around the yard when I decided it would be a good idea to clean out the unused playhouse in our back yard. I carefully stepped inside the rope climbing ladder to reach further into the playhouse, gathered my arms full of things and then stepped back, one foot successfully and the other...well, not. As I was going down in what seemed like a slo-mo movie, I was actually thinking, "Don't put your hands down!", but apparently God thought it would be a great idea to wire us up to do just exactly that when we fall. So, at the very last minute, down went my right hand. "Crunnnccchhh!" I heard it. I felt it. I knew without a doubt that it was not only broken, but messed up badly. I sat there dreading to look, but I finally got my nerve up. It looked sort of like an accordion.
I actually had a question to God run through my mind right then: "Does this mean I am going to be needed by Mom and Dad?" I feared the worst was approaching. Dad had not been doing well for several weeks. Maybe I needed to be out of commission to be available to them? I had no idea how much they were going to need me.
A few days after my injury, I had surgery to repair my wrist. My oldest brother, Kevin, who lived about 3 hours away, called me. He said he was worried about me and wanted to help. He was coming the next weekend to take care of Mom and Dad's needs since I couldn't. He said while he was here that he wanted to cook us dinner and drop it by. He made us an enormous pan of baked spaghetti (one side without meat just for me!), complete with bread, salad and chocolate marble cheesecake for dessert. He hung around a few minutes when he came with the food and we talked. He talked about the lot he was grading down for the house he was building. He talked about his grandkids and what amazing things they say and do. He talked about Mom and Dad and funny things they said that day while he was there. It was just a normal visit, with normal conversation and a normal goodbye hug when he left. I watched him back his new truck down my driveway, and I cringed as I heard the hitch on the back scrape the pavement as he backed onto the road. I waved as he drove away, not knowing because of the darkness if he saw me or not. I saw the orange lights on the running boards of the truck. I admired how clean and shiny his trucks always are. That was the last time I saw him. As I type those words, I'm still in disbelief that I will never see my brother on this earth again.
The week after I saw him last, he would leave this world for eternity. Looking back, we can all see warning signs that he was pushing too hard..working incessantly and not getting enough rest, not taking care of his health like he should, pushing his body to it's limit. But, this is Kevin we are talking about. He has done that his entire life! What he did on the days leading up to his death was nothing different from any other day in his world. But on that day, November 8, 2018, his heart had reached it's breaking point. It simply stopped beating. And just like that, this man, this invincible, unstoppable man, was gone.
I had lost my big brother, and that is not something you can ever prepare to do. My parents, though, had lost a son. Their first son, the one they had when they were just newlywed teens living in Germany while my dad served in the Army. Their baby boy.
My dad had been declining for a couple of weeks before this tragedy struck our family. He was having such extreme back pain, possibly related to his pancreatic cancer, that he ended up in the emergency room and urgent care a couple of times in the weeks prior to Kevin's passing. He had been spending more and more time lying in bed, which is the only relief he could get from hurting.
My phone had rung at 7:00 am that Thursday morning. My sister said Kevin's wife, Valerie, heard him fall and ran to check on him. She quickly realized how serious the situation was, so she called for help and began CPR. Just a few minutes after we hung up, my sister called again. This time, all I heard was Marla screaming my name. I knew he was gone. My knees went weak. I froze for a while, trying to wrap my head around what I had just been told. My next thought was that I need to get to Mom and Dad.
They had already been told when I got there. Dad was lying on the bed crying, and mom was sitting in her recliner crying the "mom who has lost her child" cry. The rest of that day seems like one big blurry picture. All I really remember afterwards was that Dad was not doing well. His blood sugar reached over 600 and wouldn't respond to insulin. His blood pressure was out the roof. About 11:00 p.m., we headed to the ER.
After several doses of insulin and some monitoring, they let us leave about 5:30 a.m. I took Dad home and tucked him in bed. He was crying himself to sleep as I slipped out the door. I drove home and looked at the clock, realizing I had only an hour and a half until my post-op doctor's appointment to get my stitches out and a new cast on. I laid down wearing the clothes I had on, got up about 30 minutes later and headed out the door to my appointment.
The nurse cut off my splint and I saw my arm for the first time. Right then and there, the events of the past 24 hours spilled out of my heart. I lost it. I mean, I completely lost it. I think I scared the poor nurse to death. She thought I was afraid to have the stitches removed! She had no idea what the past day had been for me. The stitches were just the final straw that broke the camel's back.
For the next several days, my dad could hardly sit up. He wasn't able to stand without help. He wasn't able to walk, even on his walker, without help. He wouldn't eat. He laid in the bed in the only position he could that he didn't hurt. Mom cried on and off all day. Everywhere she looked there was a reminder of Kevin: the ceramic apple cookie jar on the top of the cabinet. The Donald Trump doll in the sunroom. The red can opener on the kitchen counter. The violet he carried in to her the last time he came. His mark is all over that house. He spent the last several years making sure they knew how much he loved them.
I will quote our former pastor by saying, "Everybody's hurting." You never know what someone is going through. Life has a way of kicking you in the gut at times. Sometimes we just have to stand on up and keep going, even though our legs are collapsing underneath us, and sometimes we need to lie down in the middle of Stone Drive during lunchtime traffic because we can't take another step, and just pray we don't get run over.
Be kind. Be compassionate. Love on your neighbors, hold up your friends when they are weak. Feed them when they are hungry, and cry with them when they are sad.
Love your family and cherish every moment you spend together. Don't just live every day like it's your last..live it like it could be theirs. Life is short. Life is fleeting. Life is precious, every single one.
1 Peter 4:10(NIV)
Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.
Galatians 6:2(NIV)
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
1 Peter 3:8(NIV)
Suffering for Doing Good
Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble.
