The Other Side

(The picture to the right is of Mom and my brother Hunter, who died on July 11, 1996 due to complications from AIDS. We all take comfort in knowing that they can, once again, share a special embrace.)

It's not that the emotions or the need to pound them out have disappeared now that we are on the "other side" of our journey with Mom. For sure, the need to write, the intensity of the feelings, and the depth of gratitude are all still there in full force. I'm still pondering why I've not felt inclinced to write, honestly. I miss my mom, but I am enjoying my own breath again. I have treasured these past four or so months, indeed the past two years of our daily hugs and visits since they moved to Decatur. But once her health began the rapid decline--in early to mid-May, it was so hard to see Mom unable to enjoy the people and the relationships that have always given her the life, breath, and meaning she loved so much in this life.

We had a beautiful service for Mom in Decatur, with a packed sanctuary--close to 250 people, I'd say. That's amazing to me, given that she & Dad have only been here for less than two years. Granted, there were many folks who were here for Joel & me, as well as for Calli & Tom, but I was still quite shocked at those who came out to celebrate her life and to support us in worship. The Rev. Dr. Todd Speed, a longtime friend of Joel's & mine, conducted a beautiful service, and the women at Rehoboth hosted an amazing reception for us all afterward. The next day, we traveled to Dublin to bury a portion of Mom's ashes, as requested, in Northview Cemetery. There were only immediate family present for the burial, after which we went to Henry Memorial Presbyterian Church for the second memorial service. Again, a packed sanctuary, with an amazing homily by our longtime family friend, Rev. Frank Beall. Proctor Chambless also did a wonderful job with his selection and reading of scripture, as well as his overall pastoral presence. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for those two pastors--who loved Mom as much as the rest of us--to lead the worship service in gratitude for her life, but they did a fantastic job.

We returned home to Decatur after the service, and were treated to a catered dinner by some neighborhood friends, then began to settle, once again, into a new reality.

Dad is doing well, all things considered. The irony of how healthy he now is, given the reason behind their move to Decatur was so that Mom could have some help and support as she cared for HIM, never escapes me. I am grateful for his continued health, and realize in hindsight that he is as healthy as he is due in large part to Mom's wonderful care of him over these 59+ years. In true Tommy fashion, he is busy "taking care of business" in these dark days--changing accounts, checking on insurance, re-titling the car, that kind of thing. It is good for him to have something on which to focus. My brother Tom has been here since Saturday, so that helps with the potential loneliness as well as with the nagging household tasks that still seem so overwhelming to him--watering plants, preparing meals, doing laundry, sweeping floors, etc. Tom leaves on Sunday or Monday, and Calli returns for a few days.

The darkness of the anniversary of Hunter's death on July 11th will be slightly different this year, given that we will be resting in the knowledge that he has our sweet Attee "with him" this year. We will all be here on Sunday the 12th to celebrate Dad's 81st birthday in grand fashion, then I suspect at that point we will begin to live into a "new normal."

It will not be easy, but I daresay that it will be easier knowing that Mom is no longer struggling to breathe, to sleep, to rest, or to love. She is still with us, and will continue to be a part of our lives. Always.

TB2G!

Arrangements

Definite: Sunday, 2PM at Rehoboth Presbyterian Church, Decatur, GA, reception / visitation following in the church fellowship hall.

Tentative, pending church / staff confirmation: Monday, 11PM at Henry Memorial Presbyterian Church, Dublin, GA, reception / vistation following in the church fellowship hall.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests, at Mom's direction, contributions to either of the above churches, or the charity of your choice.

A Life Well Lived

And that's an understatement.

Alice "Attee" Adams Hunter Patterson, beloved wife, mother, and friend.
Born: October 7, 1928
Died: June 25,2009

Thank you all for your prayers and support. Keep them coming on behalf of our family and especially on behalf of my sweet daddy, mourning the earthly loss of the love of his life.

Minor Correction

After some discussion, we have decided that it makes more sense to have the memorial service in Decatur first, then have the memorial and graveside service in Dublin, a few days later. The Hospice nurse came today, and said that she thought it would be at least another three to four days, possibly even five. But we all know that ATTEE is as in control as she always has been, and she has made it clear that she'd like to go on a Sunday. Take that as you will...

Your prayers have lifted and carried me today. Thank you all.

Heavy-hearted

My heart is very heavy this morning, and my emotions are huge. Mom is no longer communicative, and only slightly responsive. We have all said our goodbyes and shed more tears than I've seen in a lifetime, it seems. I am running out of patience and feeling very short on most of the other "good" internal resources like faith, hope, assurance, trust, etc. This is the hardest thing I have ever done, and today, words just do not do my feelings justice, so I will not try.

In honor of Mom, then, I will move to a more practical note, because that's what she often did when she didn't know what else to do. I want to share with you all the plans that we have made for services, visitation, etc. The funeral will be in Dublin at Henry Memorial Presbyterian Church, with family vistation at the church prior to the service, and a smaller graveside service at Northview Cemetary. Following the graveside service, I expect there will be a lunch at the church for family and out-of-town guests.

There will also be a memorial service in Decatur, a few days after the funeral,at Rehoboth Presbyterian Church, followed by a lunch in the church fellowship hall.

In lieu of flowers, Mom has requested contributions be made to either of the two above churches, or to a charity of your own choosing.

Please continue to keep all of us in your prayers.

Gifts, Journeys, and Shoes

Before I write, I want to share two books that have been invaluable to both Calli and me on this journey. One is called "Final Gifts," and the other is called "Final Journeys," both by Maggie Callanan. If you or someone you love has this kind of experience in their near future, give them these books now. Seriously. They have been wonderful for us.

David Lamotte sings a song that I love. Well, he sings many songs that I love, actually, but one in particular has found its way into my head these days. It's not one of his originals, & I'm not really quite sure from where it comes, but it's called "Travelin' Shoes." According to David, it is actually a "gospel song from the days of the underground railroad when slaves were being smuggled to freedom in the north." He claims that he "learned from a Texas folksinger Ruthie Foster and it's a code song. It's a song that was actually used to give people information about how and when to run to escape to freedom so the song has very rich history. You listen to a song like that and you tell me you can't change the world, and I say listen to that song. That song changed a lot for a lot of people, and it's just a song. I think we are foolish to think we can't have an impact.''

The lyrics go like this: You know that death came a knockin’ on the mama's door, singin' come on mama, ain't you ready to go. And my mama stooped down, buckled up her shoe, and she moved on down by the Jordan stream. And then she shout "Hallelujah, done, done my duty, got on my travelin' shoes..." It scrolls thru all of the various family members...sister, brother, neighbor, preacher, then finally self. Really, the lyrics aren't particularly creative. However, the song itself is really moving, especially when David weaves the story in among his singing of the song. While I know the song is a a code slave song, it is, on the surface, about death. It is about gettin' ready for the journey. It is about being done with the duties here in this life and moving on to whatever the next life brings.

We have turned a corner. We have begun the slow march with my mom towards that promised land. And while we will all walk with her toward the open door, only she can go through it, at least for now. She's got on her travelin' shoes. We know the road will be long and hard, but we are cheering her on, supporting her, loving on her, and encouraging her every step of the way, just as she has done for Tom, Hunter, Calli, & me, as well as so many others, all these years.

I'm learning so much through this. Even in her dying, Mom continues to have an impact. Even in her dying, she continues to change the world for the better. Even in her dying, she continues to teach us how to love and how to live. What a gift.

A Corner Turned

I was thinking this morning as I was driving around on few errands that one day I will look back on the summer of 2009 and it will all be a blur. It all just feels very surreal to me still, and I feel as if I am observing my life from above myself, if that makes any sense at all. I literally feel as if I am being carried through the days. Often when I lay my head down at night, I marvel at how I managed, on the good days anyway, to go about the day-to-day routines of my life seemingly without missing a beat. And if I am able to string together coherent thoughts for long enough, I offer a prayer of gratitude for the strength and perseverance that has been granted to me and my family on these difficult days.

Mom has declined quite rapidly for the past week. Just last Thursday, she was able to walk from room to room, albeit very slowly, with the help of a wheeled walker. On Friday, we made the shift to a wheelchair in hopes of conserving more of her energy. And now, just four days later, we have acknowledged that she will pretty much be in bed from this point on. She is too weak to move herself much at all, and it is too painful for her if we try to move her.

(I just re-read that last sentence, and am still utterly amazed at how this horrible thing has taken the life and energy out of my sweet mama--a woman who has never looked or acted anything close to her 80 years until just four months ago.)

Tom has been with us since last Wednesday, but left this morning for a few days at home. Calli arrived yesterday afternoon, and is here "for the duration." The Hospice aide and nurse both came today, and Goldie (the nurse) said that Mom's vitals do indicate that she has turned yet another corner on her journey. Her blood pressure, at 90/60, was lower than it has been, and her heart rate was 100, higher than it has been. Apparently this is an indicator. While no one can accurately predict anything like this, based on Goldie's experience, she estimated that we're looking at 7-10 days.

On February 10th, we were told 3 to 6 months, and thought there was no way it would happen that quickly. We are now at 4 1/2 months, and it's been the longest (and strangely the best) 4 1/2 months I've had in quite a while.

Please keep us all in your prayers. We are in the "home stretch," as they say, and it is not going to be easy on us. However, we have been lifted up through prayers and good thoughts since mid-February, and we know that they will continue to carry us. Thanks to each one of you who continue to love and support us on this very difficult journey.

And thanks to you, sweet mama, for teaching us all to care for others, and for allowing us all to care for you these past few months. As I've told you recently, there is ready-ing to be done on "the other side," and you are free to make your way there whenever you are ready. You will always be with us in spirit, and therefore, while we will miss you, we will be fine.

Traveling mercies, Attee. I love you.

A concert of sorts...

Today, Daniel spent some one-on-one time with Mom. He enjoyed playing the electric keyboard that a friend let us borrow for a while. Mom enjoyed listening to him. I enjoyed reflecting on the deep love that exists between these two human beings, separated by 68 years, but bound by a special love. And I think this picture is wonderful. I knew Mom wouldn't let me take a picture of HER, so it was pretty sneaky on my part. She looks beautiful to me, though. It was the best hour of my day, and probably of hers as well.

Meal Making

After their own week in beautiful Costa Rica, Calli and her crew are here in Decatur for a few days. I had told her to be prepared for significant decline in Mom’s overall health since she last saw her just prior to their leaving last Friday. Thankfully, she wasn’t surprised to find that her pain had increased, she has been sleeping more, and her breathing and talking are considerably more labored. I continue to be dumbfounded at how this (insert strong expletive) cancer has sucked the life out of a woman who was so energetic , vibrant, and full of life just last year.

Although Mom had a hard day, it was a good day overall for our family. Adam was excited about heading to Montreat for a church youth conference this morning, and once I got him on his way, we all met at Mom & Dad’s for lunch after church. I grilled burgers and Calli and Dad helped with the rest of the meal, and it was good indeed to have so many of us around the lunch table with Mom. We spent a good bit of the afternoon there, then I headed back up there for dinner while the boys and Joel were at youth group.

Calli fixed a great dinner—I savored the familiar smells from my childhood as I walked in the door. Mmmm….chicken imperial! (I thought it was a Patterson family original, but this is pretty much it.) The sides were scalloped potatoes, a bit of leftover curried rice from Kate Hunter’s Kitchen, and asparagus casserole, another family tradition. The five of us…Mom, Dad, Calli, Ned, and me…sat down to a perfectly set table, napkins and forks on the left, knives on the right, drinks at the top right. We put our napkins in our laps, held hands, and Calli asked for God’s blessing on the food. “For health…and strength…and daily food…we give Thee thanks, O Lord. Amen.”

I had forgotten to get my chicken, so Calli offered to get a piece for me since she was closest to the kitchen. She also served our plates with asparagus, and we passed the other dishes among ourselves. We all enjoyed the meal and the time together immensely, and I silently acknowledged my new appreciation for the simple times with family lately. Calli commented that the chicken wasn’t “true” imperial because we were short on parmesan cheese, but it tasted just perfect to me. We talked about the cream sauce on the asparagus, and how she had made it in the microwave, “Peggy Nelson’s way,” she added. Mom & I nodded because we both knew what that meant. I silently noted that she had added the grated cheese to the sauce, and not sprinkled it on top, like we usually do, and decided it was really better that way. Dad complimented Calli on the meal, and we could tell he really enjoyed it. We have been blessed by countless people bringing us food over these past few months, and while it has been delicious, there was something comforting about having “traditional” Patterson foods for a change—foods that were familiar to our childhood—the chicken, the asparagus, and the potatoes, at least.

As the meal was winding down, I noticed that Mom was unusually quiet. Just as we were beginning to clear the table, she got sick to her stomach and had to excuse herself. Once she had somewhat recovered, she apologized time and time again for “ruining Calli’s nice meal.” Of course we assured her that she had not ruined it, that we were already finished, and that everything was okay. Calli and I worked together to help her get cleaned up and tucked into bed. We watched with tears in our eyes as Dad came back to tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.

“I’m sorry I ruined the meal, Tommy,” she whispered.

“You didn’t ruin it,” he assured her. “I love you, Alice,” he said tenderly. “Goodnight.”

“I love you too, Sweetie. Goodnight.”

Calli & I kissed her goodnight too, and I repeated the prayer that she said with me for years when I was little, as has become my habit when I tuck her in at night lately. “Heavenly Father, hear our prayers. Take this child into Thy care. Let the angels pure and bright watch around her through the night. Amen.”

Later tonight as I was pondering our mealtime together, I began to think about her worrying that she had ruined the meal. And as I thought more about it, I realized that not only had she not ruined the meal, but over the 50+ years that she has been our mother, she has made that meal possible.

Because you see, it was Mom who first introduced us to the enticing aroma of chicken imperial when she fixed it “for company” so many times during our childhood.

It was Mom who taught us how to compliment an entrée with coordinating side dishes.

It was Mom who taught us how to set a “proper” table, and Mom who taught us to put our napkins in our laps.

It was Mom who taught us the importance of saying a blessing before every meal.

It was through Mom’s modeling of what it truly means to be a hostess that made it so easy for Calli to offer to get that piece of chicken for me.

It was Mom who taught us how to make chicken imperial and the cream sauce for asparagus casserole.

It was Mom who taught us how to be a family.

My dear sweet Attee, not only did you not ruin tonight’s wonderful meal, but you made it all possible.

Sleep well tonight, Mom. We love you.

Mom and Dad on their 59th!

We had a great dinner and celebration tonight at 2871, complete with roses, steaks, wine, and delicious lemon pie. It was a wonderful dinner honoring a wonderful couple!

Today's Prayer

Dear God,

What a beautiful morning it is! I have enjoyed the silence, the birds, the coffee, and the crossword puzzle. I am grateful for the arms that have wrapped around me in comfort today, and for the special-ness that is this day. Fifty-nine years ago THIS DAY, Alice Hunter and Tommy Patterson became husband and wife, beginning the journey of a lifetime for them, and giving my siblings and me life and breath, through You, along the way. Thank you for that union, for their love for one another, and for their love for so many others. They are both wonderful witnesses to the love that You have for us.

Thank you also for allowing me the privilege of caring for my mom these past few weeks. And today, thank you especially for this morning’s gift of helping her take a shower. As You know, it is quite a chore for her, and it was a wonderful thing to be able to help her slough off the yuckiness of life that simply pervades a body after two days. I felt You with me as I sat on standby, just outside the shower, while she bathed herself. Then I did my best to channel Your love for us all as I gently washed her hair, massaged her shoulders, and scrubbed her back before she resumed on her own. As the water flowed over her body, washing her clean, I thanked you for the promises made to her, sealed in her baptism so many years ago. You heard my silent prayer for her as she rested a bit, then continued by drying herself off slowly and deliberately with a fresh towel. You watched and smiled as I rubbed her back and legs with lotion—just like she did with Tom, Hunter, Calli, & me many times when we were babies—and then as I helped her don her housecoat before tucking her in for her morning nap.

Thank you, God, for that woman. For her life, for her example, for her smiles, and for her love. What a gift it is to be one of her many caregivers.

But God, my prayer is bigger than gratitude today. My prayer comes to you with tears streaming down my face, and a giant hole opening up in my heart. Because you see, God, as I felt the humidity in that tiny room swell to an almost unbearable weight on my skin, I longed for my own release from it. I longed for cooler air, for lighter breathing. And I realized, God, that she is there all the time. She lives day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute with that (insert strong expletive here) cancer weighing heavy on her heart, soul, body, and mind. I sat there in that bathroom, God, with the steam from the shower clouding my vision and making it harder and harder for me to breathe. I knew that I could simply open the door and feel immediate relief. But I wanted to feel it—the desperation, the weight, the discomfort. I wanted to feel it so that I could be sure of my prayer today. And now I am.

God, open the door for Mom soon. Open the door for her now. Greet her with cooler air, lighter breathing, and wide open arms. Welcome her alongside the many saints who have gone before her. She is ready, and so am I.

Amen.