My husband’s father died Christmas Eve from a rapid onset of acute myeloid leukemia so our holidays were bittersweet. While it was fast, with little pain, and Hospice Odyssey helped us all as we sat vigil from the date of diagnosis (December 17) until he died, it was just such a shock. We picture him now dancing with his wife of 62 years who died this past January. What a wonderful New Year’s Eve they will have.
The following is what I wrote Tuesday morning, December 20, while still at the hospital with him:
They’ve taken him away. He was sleeping as I held his hand, kissed his forehead and said, “I love you” before the hospital bed was rolled out into the long hall, heading to wherever procedures are done.
We have all been reassured that the bone marrow biopsy my father-in-law is about to have is much improved since the days my sister-in-law had hers, 26 years previously. She had Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, and thanks to early detection and treatment, received a clean bill of health and is with us today.
My 85-year-old father-in-law apparently doesn’t have the urinary tract infection first suspected when the family brought him, weak and tired, to ER three days earlier. According to initial tests, we’re looking at a leukemia diagnosis; the bone marrow biopsy will let us know.
This funny curmudgeon of a man lost his partner of 62 years to Alzheimer’s less than a year ago. Though he is in a lovely retirement center, her loss left a hole in his heart that even the nicest of facilities could not comfort. Lacking caregiving skills, he was at a loss even before she died as he watched her fade. He was famous for saying “we’re fine” when neither he nor she was even close to being okay. He wanted so badly for her to get better.
This morning while Dad was gone for the procedure, a hospital volunteer came by. This attractive retired woman had stopped by unannounced with a newspaper for me. “You have a little glitter on your face,” she said and gently removed it. I laughed as I explained it must have come from the sparkly Christmas boxes sitting next to my makeup mirror. I thanked her and said, “I don’t know. Maybe we all could use more glitter about now,” and started to tear up unexpectedly. “It doesn’t look good for him, my father-in-law.” She stayed with me a while and listened.
After Dad was brought back to the room, Kay, the kind volunteer, stopped by to check on us and said, “I have a present for you.” She gave me a wrapped heart-shaped ornament the size and thickness of the palm of my hand. It smelleth wonderful, filled with a deep woods fresh pine scent, like my house at Christmas time when I was a child.
Dad is still sleeping and I am writing, and praying inadequate prayers. Comfort and joy. I pray for comfort and joy for him and his family.
Holding my new ornament in my lap as I type, the scented gift fills my head with memories of my mother and those long-ago Christmases. Kay the volunteer is now gone as I remove the sparkly wide red ribbon on the package and unwrap it to get a better look at my unexpected treasure.
Glitter. The entire heart is covered with silver glitter.
She brought me a glittered heart that sparkles. I cry.
I reach for Dad’s hand and place the heart in it. He continues to sleep as he has for the last three days but I watch as his big hand tightens around the comfort and joy that an angel named Kay brought us.
I’m thinking it would be a good idea for all of us to glitter our hearts and share them over the holidays and in the days ahead. If you do, I bet you’ll experience that same comfort and joy. After all, we could all use a little glitter right now…
If you’re in the Austin area, come share your heart at our January 2012 Re-Story Circle. I promise you you’ll leave with more comfort and joy than when you arrived.
Click on the “Re-Story Circles” tab for more information.
Tears, remembrances of my own father’s passing, and amazement at how God provides those sweet, little someone’s to remind us that He loves us…. with glitter, a kind word, a soft touch.
Thanks for sharing your life and your writing with me. Give Robert a hug from both Peg and me. We’re so sorry for your loss.
In the midst of life we are in the death: in the midst of pain and sadness we can find beauty. If we look.
Beautiful, Jeanne.
What a sweet moment in the midst of a painful time. Thanks for sharing with us, Jeanne. I’m sending thoughts of comfort and joy and healing prayers to you and Robert and his family.
Much love ……..
Jeanne —
I’m getting the glitter out right now. A beautiful story. A beautiful insight. Thank you.
PJ
Jeanne,
Your story brought tears and comfort. You expressed the feelings so beautifully. I’ve been missing my Mother and remembering a lot. At the same time, I’ve experienced great joy with grandson and daughter and my wonderful hubby. Love to you and Robert and prayers for both of you.
love and tears flowed out as I read, a relief and poignant release… we called in hospice on eve of christmas eve for Mom (her heart’s weakening but she may be here months yet) … next day I took my son and his wife from Asheville along with daughter, son in law and grandkids over to visit Mom briefly … she earnestly in Alzheimer’s patois ‘explained’ how she created a big (14″ high) rock mother and baby sculpture on the coffee table about 10 years ago. They all froze into a tableau, these funny, irreverent witty children of mine, and listened to her broken made-up word-sentences with such respect and affection … I will never forget this moment (unless I too have alzheimers, and get to return like Mom to the freedom of a 2 year old trying to find words to ‘splain’ my passions to new generations…) Share with Robert my love and compassion, and I’ll look forward to another awesome experience with y’all soon. Nathalie
Jeanne, Thanks for sharing a beautiful experience and story. God bless you for your good work of the heart. Peace. Lolly
Jeanne,
I’m so sorry for yours and Robert’s loss. What a beautiful picture story you wrote, and what a blessing you must be to Robert during this time. I pray for God’s perfect peace and for a grand reunion for Dad & Mom in heaven!
Dear Jeanie and Robert,
Understanding…
I lost my brother at 49 years of age. He died in his sleep on December 20.
Mother’s birthday was Christmas Eve. She was 75. She died on
December the 18 th just before her 93rd birthday.
It gives this holiday a different but special meaning.
This year, the kids gave three parties for Christmas and I now have a picture of all
nine grandchildren and spouses, and two great grandchildren.
Thanks for sharing this beautiful story of the glittered heart.
Jeanne, your writing moved me. Kay was an angel in just the right place with an open heart. Barry and I are sending you and Robert hugs and comfort for your loss. The glitter will have to wait until we’re together.
Marcia
This is such a moving and evocative story which seems even more precious given the time of year. You have such a beautiful and sensitive description of your father-in-law that I feel touched by his life. Your sharing brings tears and glitter all at once. Thank you for that. God’s peace and rest to your father-in-law and love and hugs to you and Robert. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Jeanne,
Your beautifully written story touched me and brought back the days I spent at my parents’ bedsides during their last days — Dad during Christmas week 2005 and Mother in April 2010. I’ve been thinking of them so much this holiday season and wishing we had another Christmas together when they were both healthy and full of life. I miss my ritual of wrapping presents with Mother minutes before they were to be unwrapped by the family. That time together on Christmas Eve was one of my favorite hours of the year.
Then there was my father intent on getting every errant piece of wrapping paper off the floor within minutes of gift-opening. One “wrapper” and one “picker-upper” — a perfect combination.
I’m so glad that you had the gift of glitter and the kind volunteer to be with you in the hospital. I hope you know how many others are with you and Robert in these days and how much joy you both bring to so many of us.
With love,
Jim
Thank you for sharing your love and deepest feelings for Dad. It made me feel as if I were there to hold your hands and comfort you all in this time of release and sorrow. I know it well. Your anecdotes brought tears to my eyes and a flood of memories of both of my parents.
My love to you all.
Really beautiful – I saw every moment you described.
Love, Ka
Dear Jeanne,
My heart is with you and Robert. Thank you for your beautiful story. You always are sparkling in my eyes, and you created such a beautiful word picture. I gave my mother-in-law a hamsa a few months before she died, and she held it all the time (it literally had to be pried out of her hand when she napped and slept) so I can imagine the comfort that beautiful, glittered heart gave to your father-in-law. My Dad died on Christmas Day, so I share with you, and the many others here, the bittersweet sadness and joy that brings to Christmas.
Hugs and much love to you and Robert, and blessings as you grieve, heal and rejoice once again in this new year.
Shirley
Thanks, Jeanne, for sharing the last few days of your father-in-law’s life with us. It was sweet and real, and very touching. I am facing that day very soon with my own 93-year-old mother. It’s so lovely to hear about the blessings of this difficult time.
Comfort and joy to you and to Robert, and to your father-in-law.
Lesley
Jeanne, my condolences to you, Robert, and your family. It’s a beautiful story about your special time and last days which sounds like you already treasure. I stayed with my sister her last four days before she passed on Dec. 22, eight years ago from oral cancer. It was a very special time with her and her family and the nearness of Christmas and all that it means made it so much more meaningful. She was born on the first day of spring and passed on the Winter Solstice.
Dear Friends,
I’m so grateful for your loving words and your tender stories. Thank you all for being in our lives.
Here’s to sharing comfort and joy in 2012,
Jeanne and Robert
Thank you for sharing the story so beautifully. Of course I thought about my parents as I was reading it. I picture them holding hands and laughing, so it hurts less. Our condolences to you and Robert.