July 12, 2020
This time last year I remember my parents dropped off Cherie
at a cabin up in northern Arizona. Kids camp had been in late June last summer
and it was a difficult time for Cherie. I think that this time last summer was
when she had to come to grips with the fact that she was dying. She hadn’t had
any time to herself to grieve her own inevitable death in the next few months.
Mom and Dad had planned a trip to Greer, AZ. They dropped
Cherie off at the cabin, along with her dog, Gracie. This was the first time
Cherie had been alone for an extended amount of time before we found out about
her cancer. She had just received her papers to legally pursue medical
marijuana, if she so desired. I think it was all soaking in and she needed the
time at the cabin to process her earthly life. I remember Cherie telling me
that she cried for 2 days straight while she was alone. After her passing, I
found notes that she had written, with questions about her cancer and what
death would look like for her. She did not know what kind of peril was before
her, but I do know that it was evident that she rested in her Heavenly Father
to take care of her. She had many lifelong dreams that she decided to let go of
in July of 2019. Her 2 days alone, knowing that death was inevitable within the
next few months, were vital to her acceptance of her understanding the Father’s
love for her, no matter what. After her 2 days alone, several friends joined
her at the cabin and cooked for her, brought her healthy snacks, and loved on
her. This was very important to her. She loved spending time with these friends
that made her feel so special. If you are reading this and you were one of the
ones that spent time with Cherie at the cabin last summer…thank you. After
Cherie’s passing, I got to meet the family that owned that cabin. I didn’t get
to thank them for all those years they opened that cabin to my sister. I knew
they had felt loss of their own in the past. Saying words of thank you was too
much for me at that time since I knew the deep loss they had experienced. But
now, I wish to thank that family for giving respite to Cherie each summer. She
loved the pines and she loved that cabin. And last summer, she got to bring
Gracie, her faithful companion, with her to the cabin. If you are reading this,
sweet family that owns that cabin…thank you.
Looking back, I see that July of 2019 was the beginning of
the end for Cherie. Her body was tired. Her strength was weak. June had been a
long marathon to endure. I had friends that had died within the past few years
that dealt with colon cancer. I knew what Cherie’s body was doing. It was time
to try to get her to understand that hospice needed to be a part of her
journey. That wouldn’t come to pass until August of 2019, but I am thankful
that she took that step. She had 8 weeks that hospice was able to help with her
pain. I’m thankful for that, as well.
Now that I’ve seen the emotional toll that COVID has brought
into my life, as well as the lives of my friends, I am so thankful for God’s
timing for Cherie’s passing to occur last Fall. She would have been heartbroken
to have to live through the COVID 2020 regulations of not being able to be with
her refugee friends. I believe she may have had to watch her ministry fade, due
to our current restrictions. I am thankful that she did not have to deal with
the days of COVID. It would have been crippling to her heart and soul. I also
can’t help to think that this may have been a time that she and I would have
agreed politically! We would have been bosom buddies in making sure that we
could still meet with groups of people, despite government regulations. I think
we would have been of one mind, rebelling against the notion of staying home
and not living life to its fullest. Spending time with others was the story of
her life, as is mine. There is no way she would be confined to the walls of her
own home. Period. My sister and I were similar in that way. I am thankful that
COVID was not an added stress on my sister’s life.
Since Cherie passed, I have had at least 3 others in my life
that have either passed from cancer or are undergoing treatment. I have taken
meals, prayed many prayers for deliverance, if that be God’s will, and I have
felt deep sympathy for those going through their own journey of dealing with
the brevity of life. Mostly, I have no words. We all experience the process of
watching a loved one go through treatment (or eventually pass on) in a
different way. Sometimes there are just no words. There is just resting.
Resting in our only Hope.
These days of 2020, I find myself re-living the year 2019 in
the context of my sister’s illness. As time goes on, I know the memories of
those hard days will pass in my mind and I won’t be able to recall the
specifics of watching my sister die slowly. Right now, though, I lay awake at
nights or I stare out the window of my house for long moments, re-living 2019.
It was many good times. And it was many hard times. I am thankful for the hope
that leads me as I continue this walk, despite whatever dark times come my way.
But the tears are real. The memories are real. The gladness of rest in my
Savior is real.
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