Healing and Gratitude in the Midst of Loss

The 28th of this month will mark 6 months since I lost him.

Lance was vivacious, capable and witty.
​He could fix or build almost anything.  In fact, almost everything out here he either built, built with a little help from his friends or from me (don't think for a minute that I'm handy though) or else designed.  A couple things may be just a little crooked... but that's not the point here.
Most things are straight; and indeed most things function pretty well.  

It happened slowly.  Then it happened quickly.

First, he just got a little more tired than normal... 
​He could still function, it just took a little more effort...

I tried to help out more where I could.  I tried to take some of the pressure off of him in the ways that I could so he could still sometimes have the energy to do some of the heavy lifting that I couldn't, so that he could still fix a fence here or there.  But chemotherapy is hard.  It takes the stuffin's out of a feller.  He handled it so well though that a lot of people really had no idea what he was going through unless he told them.  He was still working and tended to act like nothing was wrong.  He remained optimistic and upbeat.  Even to me.
​Then he had colon cancer surgery. 

We had thought that after he recovered from the surgery he would be able to resume normal activities again.  But it didn't work out like that.  He developed a hernia.  The abdominal muscles at the surgical site separated too.  Now he couldn't lift much at all.  By this point, he was starting to get discouraged.  I'm sure the point at which you have to ask your wife to help you switch out the propane tank on your gas grill man toy can't be easy.

Chemotherapy gave him weird neuropathy in his feet, which got worse when he got tired.  It made tasting foods all wonky.  I wanted to make him things I thought he might like to eat, but that week might not be the same as the week before.  A couple times he told me not to bother making anything for him, because he wasn't sure he would like it or want it by that evening.  That made me feel powerless and sad.  As time continued to progress, the chemo drugs became less effective at staving off the metastases.  He started coming home from work and going straight to bed, only getting up after he'd slept for an hour or two or more to eat and watch something on TV to get his mind off of things before going on back to bed and sleeping again until the next morning.  His employer and trusted friend tried to convince him to stop working, to come home and rest, but he wasn't having it.  If Lance was anything he was stubborn.  I kinda think that not only did he love his job, but also he didn't want to admit defeat.  He didn't want to acquiesce to the whole thing.
Like maybe he didn't want to give cancer the satisfaction.

In the end we knew of the cancer for 2 years and 8 months before his passing.
It was already stage IV by the time it was diagnosed.  

In the middle of all this and throughout it all though, stood our friends, our wonderful family and our neighbors.  These are the people that walked with us and held our arms up, carrying us through when we couldn't walk any more.  And they have remained here still for me 6 months later.

I couldn't ask for a better community.
​I couldn't ask for a better church either. 

Elsie was a beautiful young dog with a bright future ahead of her.  But she developed a very rare disease.  The vets did everything they could for her.  They even tried her on chemotherapy.  (Well, I can honestly say now that I've had both the husband and the dog on chemotherapy at the same time.)  Anyway at one point (before his surgery), Lance had an appointment scheduled at the specialty cancer center several hours away and we needed to leave right after he got off of work.  But Elsie passed away soon before we were scheduled to be leaving.  I knew Lance would be too tired to go dig a big hole before getting into the vehicle for that long of a drive.  It just wasn't feasible for him.  I knew I couldn't physically do it.  Even trying to do it would have set off a major migraine during that time.  She was a big dog.  Grieving the dog and knowing that the husband wouldn't be able to handle one more thing, I called Lance's best friend.  He in turn brought a couple young men along with him to help with everything to ensure that Elsie was buried with dignity...

The hurricane was devastating.  And some people lost so much.  We were fortunate that our house and barns and fences were intact.  But two massive trees and several smaller trees and lots of branches all fell and smashed down over our driveway.  We were trapped.  Lance was not at the point of being able to do much about it.  I just don't do chainsaws.  Even if I did it would have taken me a solid week to have created a path out.  We didn't ask for help.  We figured there were enough true emergencies going on.  But somehow people knew.  Somehow people found out.  Our church friends showed up.  Chainsaws buzzed and branches cracked and pretty soon we had a path we could drive through.  I didn't know what to say.  All I could say was thank you.  Our rescuers smiled and took off to the next place where help was needed.  A few weeks later, the neighbors showed up with a tractor and a Ranger with a tarp sled.  They worked hard in the South Georgia heat to move all those trees and branches into neater, more manageable piles.  It looked so much better.
After thanking them, I went inside and cried. 

One of my favorite trees, a chinaberry that made beautiful purple flowers, was completely uprooted in the storm.  Its vibrant leaves wilted and began to dry up.  I was sad.  I mourned silently for that tree.  I tried to tell myself it was the least of my worries.  I tried not to give it much thought.  Then the neighbor asked if he could try to salvage it.  I don't remember mentioning how I felt about it to anyone, not even to God.  But sometimes it seems as though God just sees.  The neighbor pulled it up with his tractor, righting it back the way it should be.  Its branches amputated, it spent the winter looking barren, albeit not dead.  Now it's sprouted new leaves all over.  It looks more like a large bush than a tree right now, but I couldn't be happier for it.  Maybe it will blossom yet again.

When Lance got really sick towards the end, the neighbors banded together and brought us meals.  One of my best friends, who for years worked as a hospice nurse, came and sat with us for days, helping me care for and look after Lance around the clock just so I could get some sleep.  My mom flew down to help.  Hospice nurses came and they were a Godsend.  The doctors were so compassionate.  Our friends came and sat with him up until the very end.  When I just couldn't any more, when all I could do was fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, those friends, his best friend, refused to leave him.  

After he died, the church did everything to help me.  They put together a beautiful service, organized meals for our families, (which people in the community contributed to and provided as well as church members) and basically checked in with us daily to make sure we had everything we needed, seriously everything, all the way down to enough toilet paper in the house! 
One of the neighbors offered  some of our family to stay at their guest lodge.  Considering we live a fur piece away from the nearest hotel, we gratefully accepted.

A young friend of mine who knows my farm and animals well volunteered with her mom to watch all the animals for me.  "We will feed and look after all your animals for you.  Morning and evening.  Until you tell us not to.  Take your time.  We will take care of everything."  I was overwhelmed with gratitude.
I was gifted with several contributions towards funeral expenses.  That was humbling. 
Lance's charity of choice, Heaven in Sight, received many wonderful contributions in his honor.
I know that would have made him happy.

Just this past weekend I was at my friend and neighbor's home visiting.  We had a delightful time as always together.  On my way out she gifted me with a big bucket of flowers.  I love flowers and she knows it.  ​I slowly and carefully made my way the few doors down the road back home, enjoying the scenery.  I was also trying to be careful not to spill the flowers, even though they were buckled into the passenger seat.  I had to chuckle a little to myself about that.  When I pulled into the driveway I immediately noticed the beautiful freshly cut lawn.  My lawn.  I was already feeling so lucky to have the best neighbors ever and this was simply the proverbial icing on the cake that day.
I could feel the tears starting to well up.

The follow up to the hurricane tree and branch pileup story was a kind neighbor with whom I was visiting one day.  She saw the piles and she and her husband decided to do something about it.  He brought his big green tractor with a grapple and a dump trailer.  I don't have a big green tractor with a grapple or a dump trailer, nor would I know how to use it either even if I did.  He not only cleaned up the piles, but in the process trimmed several broken and ugly branches that were still hanging up high in the trees with his pole saw.  He hauled off 11 dump trailer loads of tree and branch debris and took everything to their own place where they could burn it in a more open area  and handle managing a fire much more safely than I could here.  I am so grateful to them.  Their kindness to me will never be forgotten.  I could never have done that myself.

Really these are not all the stories, only some of them.  My parents spent hours putting weed cloth down in the flower beds.  My brother came and helped fix several things, including the broken utility sink in the barn.  There were the friends who found and put together and set up a shelter for the dogs, friends who have stopped by to do repairs, friends who trimmed branches, friends who pulled weeds out of my garden beds (truly that was a labor of love because that's the worst job) the friend who has helped me with pasture management... Bless the true friend and his brother in law that showed up within minutes of my call asking for help burying my old pet ewe Phoebe that had died despite mine and everyone's and the vet's best efforts...  Who wants to be the one to interrupt his day unexpectedly when he is asked to volunteer to bury a 100lb dead animal?  Oh wait this wasn't his first time burying a dead animal for me.  the first one was a horse... And yet they never batted an eye.  They jumped to help me with great compassion. 

There are so many children and teens and even moms who have kept me company, volunteering their time to help wrangle lambs, stack hay and clean stalls.
 
To every last one of you, you know who you are, thank you.
The reason my farm looks beautiful today is because of you.

Now that the dust has settled and I finally have the guts and the courage to write again, now that I've finally healed enough to be able to pick up this laptop again, I can finally say it here like I've been wanting to for quite some time:
Thank you.

Loss hurts.  Loss is hard.  But in the midst of the pain, in the midst of the loss, I've found healing.  I've found healing through my faith yes; but I've also found healing through the kindness and the generosity and the caring of the best community I could possibly ask for.  I've found healing and gratitude in the midst of loss.