Tori's Rainbow

Tori's birthday present from God. 

"This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come."                   --Genesis 9:12

Grandpa's Story

A few weeks ago, my grandfather fell and hit his head.  The fall led to a trip into the hospital for repair, which led to a two-week stay in the hospital's rehab unit.  One night early in those weeks, I spent the night with my grandmother so that she wouldn't be alone.  On our way home that night, Granny said, "Nelli, he's been ready to go for two years."  Even though he was expected to recover at the time, I think Granny knew then that he was done.

Two weeks later, he was released to go home.  We all knew, however, that "home" would never again mean what it had previously for Grandpa.  Instead of becoming stronger, he had weakened in rehab.  He could barely pick up his cup to drink.  Also, my grandpa, who all his life was smart, quick, and witty, in those last two weeks became lost.  Some days my mom was his sister.  Some days she was me.  Once he thought I was my mom, and Tori was me.  So, he was released home on Friday the 2nd with severely diminished physical and mental capacities, and the family had already begun to try to figure out how we could offer him the best care.

Then the next morning (Saturday the 3rd), my mom called me.  Grandpa was in an ambulance on his way back to the hospital due to stomach pain.  I was the first one there.  Soon Granny, Tim, and Mom arrived.  When the doctor examined Grandpa, he said that he suspected some "mischief" and ordered a CAT scan.  I was sitting with Granny and Grandpa when the doctor came back with the results.  Between the time he'd left the hospital the day before and that next morning, he'd suffered a perforated bowel.  But that wasn't all.  Besides the perforated bowel, Grandpa had advanced lymphoma throughout his abdomen.  Grandpa was admitted to the hospice unit, and we began preparing to let him go.

Mom stayed with him the whole time.  Tim drove Granny back and forth.  Candace and I took turns staying with Mom.  Sunday afternoon, Marty flew in from California.  Both Sam and Jenny would be driving up from Louisiana and flying in from Arizona (respectively) on Monday afternoon. We doubted they'd make it in time.

Meanwhile, Grandpa was deteriorating quickly.  He stopped communicating with us early on Sunday.  He was basically in a coma, and in that state he began repeatedly reaching for something (or someone) in the room that we couldn't see.  It was awesome in the true sense of that word.

By the end of Sunday, I expected every breath to be his last.  As it was Easter Sunday, I thought it seemed appropriate for him to go to heaven on that day of resurrection, but he kept hanging on.  We began to wonder to ourselves and to each other if he was waiting for Sam and Jenny. 

Monday was brutal.  Grandpa was fighting his body to breathe, and his pulse ox was down in the 70% range.  We stood by, stroked his hair, held his hands, and wondered at his will for life.  By about 5:00 p.m., his pulse ox was not even registering.  Sam had arrived, but Jenny's plane wasn't due until 5:55.  Then she had to get her bag, get her rental car, check in to her hotel, and find her way to the hospital.  There was no way she was going to make it.  But Grandpa kept breathing. 

At 6:00, Mom called Dad.  He was almost there and close to the airport.  Mom asked him to see if he could intercept Jenny.  He did.  Jenny's plane arrived at 6:02,  Dad found her at 6:07, and they were on their way. 

Meanwhile, the rest of us stayed fixed with Grandpa.  Granny, his wife of 71 years; Marty, Tim, and Sam, his sons; Vicki, his daughter; and Candace and I, his eldest granddaughters, were all there.  At about 6:20, he quit breathing.  We all held our breath, too.  Jenny had to be close.  He breathed.  Mom stepped out to call Dad to see where they were.  Candace followed.  Grandpa stopped again.  I started counting and got to seven.  I told my uncle to get Mom and Candace because he was quitting again.  Mom flew in saying, "Oh no!  They're in the elevator..."

Grandpa had been waiting for her, and we all knew that by this time.  He wanted all of his kids there.  I leaned over him and told him, "Grandpa, Jenny's in the elevator!"  Ten seconds had passed.  And then Grandpa gasped, breathed, and Jenny walked into the room.

Twenty minutes later, with all of us there, Grandpa passed away.  I still cannot believe that I witnessed what I did.  It was absolutely one of the most beautiful moments of my life.  My heart is full, and I am so proud for him.  He lived a long, full life and left for us a legacy.  He was also a storyteller of storytellers, and I can just imagine his welcome party and the story he got to tell.  Grandpa was the youngest of seven siblings and the last to die, so even though we're left with a gaping hole down here, he filled a long-awaited place next to the rest of his family in heaven.

I feel so honored and privileged, and on the days I feel less-than-able, I need only to think of the integrity with which my grandpa lived every single day, and carry on.  What an example of a life well-lead.  What a grandpa...

April 2010

Lauren's sign for the egg-decorating station

Finished product

Easter with the Kernses and Toblers

Work of the Almighty Florist

Yoshi

Xena

Lake Fort Smith

Beloved blankie

More flowers...

33 years old

Two nice guys

Still to come...Tori's 8th!

My Grandpa

So full of love.  Such an amazing legacy.

I love you, Grandpa.

December 10, 1918-April 5, 2010

 

Doubt...

...is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.
Kahlil Gibran


I unloaded a lot of my heaviness of heart today on Wendi, Mrs. Jones, Candace, my dad, my mom, and soon Garon.  I feel lighter.  :)  My life is God's, and where He leads, I will follow.

Melancholy...

..has a hold on me.  I feel sad, disgruntled, mad, stagnant, dissatisfied, reclusive, meditative, frustrated...I haven't blogged in a while, and this is why.  There is no specific reason for my slumpiness, it just is.  I'm ready for change, and I don't know from which direction to expect it.  My spiritual self says, "Give it up.  Let go."  But my cognitive self says, "It's mine.  I can figure it out." 

I want the best for my family.  For all of us.  I'm ready to settle into something, but what is it?  My heart's desire is for a life of quality and simplicity away from the fanatic pace of purposelessness that our society's image endorses.  I don't want to play anymore.  I want to give my life to my family.  I want to turn off all of the tv's, computers, phones, games, and gadgets and get real.  I want to be reconnected to the earth.  I want to raise my own food, can my own food, teach my own kids, cook quality dinners, clean my nest, write, project, exercise, spend quality family time, enjoy nature, commune with God...

I'm coming to the conclusion that resolving all of these wants in my/our present style-of-life is just not going to happen.  Some women seem to do it all.  I can't.  Or I just don't want to.  What's the point?  To have lots of stuff?  I want time.  I want my kids.  I want my husband.  I don't want to feel strung out and less than me.

So change is coming, and I know what I want.  I know what my kids deserve.  I know what my husband deserves.  I want to be better, and I can't do that when I'm spread in so many directions.  Sumpin's gotta give.

For the Love of a Duck

Once upon a time, Aunt Kristin bought her newborn niece, Tori, a yellow duckie.

(See left side of picture...)

As Baby Tori grew, she fell in love with the little yellow duckie.  She called him "Duyay".

Soon, their bond was unbreakable, and everywhere Tori went, Duyay went, too.

Together they grew some more, and Duyay became "Duckie".

And a little more...

And again a little more, and Duckie became "Ming Ming".

In the blink of an eye, newborn Tori was 7, and Ming Ming was still her most treasured friend.

That year, Ming Ming became "Duckie" again as well as the subject of many photographs...

Even when ponies became a new love of her life, Duckie was always her favorite.

And then one day, Tori was sad.  Duckie was falling to pieces.

So she picked out some new material for an extreme duckie makeover.  And Grammy worked her magic... 

...and transformed Tori's most special friend.

Welcome back, Duckie.  We love you!