good grief

So many things to say and so many ways I could start. I could avoid writing about this but that would feel dishonest to the kinds of things I talk about, which is real life. Oh blogging world, it's been a really hard two weeks. To be honest, it's been a really hard year and a half since November 8th, 2012 when I got a text from my big sister at 10:18pm that said "Can you talk?" I was getting off work after the world's longest happy hour, walking towards the Archives metro station in DC, and I immediately called Rhonda back. We knew she'd been having gastric issues and weird itching (the concept of the itching was so bizarre...who itches all over their body?) So I knew the phone call would be about whatever was wrong with her, and in my tipsy state, I held back tipsy tears as soon as I heard her voice.

Her calm voice said, "All right. So. They're saying it's cancer..."[Tears spill over]..."But they think it's just stage 1."

I react in disbelief, and Rhonda says, "But they caught it SO early, Steph. Don't worry. I'm really not worried. It's God's grace that I even had symptoms this early in the game."

Of course I was in agreement, but my heart broke in half. The C word was finally happening. You know it's going to happen. I mean, what is it - like 1 in 3 people get cancer in their lifetime, right? So I knew at some point, someone in my family or group of friends would be affected, and it would be hard. And here it was. It's super surreal when that happens, and it all plays out just like a movie. 

I went home and curled up on the floor and put my head in my husband's lap, and he let me cry. Mina came over and whined and licked my hands because she cannot handle crying.

Thus ensued the months ahead. Whipple procedure. Me in DC, calling and texting family constantly for updates. Christmas in the hospital. 6 months of chemo. Her losing weight but looking like the super hottie she is. She and my other sister come to DC to visit me in June of 2013, and we drink fruit and wine smoothies and talk about Jesus on my bed and go shopping for swimsuits at Macy's. Then she continues to lose weight. Cancer recurrence. More weight loss. 2 rounds of chemo before the doctor says she's too weak to handle it without gaining more weight. Our family looks into more integrative care. Rhonda weakens, pain increases, weight continues to drop. She is unable to hold much, if any, food down. She is given TPN to help her gain weight since she struggles to digest food. Loses weight despite the TPN. Admitted into the hospital for more pain. Hospice for two weeks. Home with Jesus.

It's been a whirlwind. I often felt very disconnected from my sister's illness because I live 11 hours from Nashville. Even though Rhonda and I talked a lot, and I always got updates on how she was doing, I had a hard time balancing my worries about everything going on in Nashville with the new world we had just months before settled into in DC. I feel sort of sorry for DC, because I didn't give it fair chance to put down  roots with so much of my heart back where my sister was.

When cancer came back last August, I remember sending her this entry from Jesus Calling that I had read on the day she called to tell me about the recurrence.

To which she replied (her words are in gray):

Of course her response is exactly what she would have said to ME if I were the sick one asking her why this was happening to me. Faith is a remarkable thing; It's like this little fire burning in our hearts that all of struggles throw kindling on, and that we tend and stoke based on how much we need Jesus. Rhonda's flame shined so incredibly bright that everyone saw it as soon as they met her both before she was sick, but especially after she got sick.

Grief has come slowly. "Good grief" takes on a new meaning, because rather than just an exclamatory remark, it's a statement that clearly acknowledges where we are right now. The grief that we feel is good. Right now it is full of memories and smiles and laughter through tears.

The weeks that we had with her in hospice room were some of the most precious moments - all of us in one room - my mom and Rhonda's step dad, Rhonda's dad and stepmother and stepsisters, my sister, Rhonda's cousins, Mark and the kids intermittently - all keeping watch over her like our little duckling. Ruthanne sat and held her hand, and we all talked about how much we loved her. I swear she was rolling her eyes half the time, especially when we said "Rhonda, do you feel like Jesus is calling you home?" To which she responded in her half-lucid state, "STOP talking about it", which made us laugh. When Ruthanne asked her another time, Rhonda replied, "Not yet." Ruthanne said, "All right then, we'll keep you hear as long as you want to stay." Rhonda half smiled and said, "Well, I'll keep you too."

In the midst of it all, she kept her humor, even if all she could muster was a silly little grin. I came into the room one day, and she said that I had a cute butt. She has a tendency to say things like this, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear her say it when she was so weak and out of it.

She got to talk to each of the kids and Mark one at a time two nights before she died, and even though it wore her out, I'm so grateful she got that time. We convinced her to record herself reading aloud a kids book that had a video recorder inside of it, and even though her voice was weaker than normal, it will be such a precious gift to the kids, especially in the later months.

Finally, on her last full day, we were sitting with her talking, and out of nowhere Rhonda whispered, "yes." Ruthanne asked her if she was saying yes to something else or yes to Jesus this time, and Rhonda said, "Yes to Jesus."

I honestly think that the hardest thing for her was letting go. Some of the last words that she whispered over and over were "four little kids..." It's interesting because you hear about the death of people who love Jesus, and it often seems that they are totally at peace with dying, which in and of itself is a miracle. But Rhonda's response was very much (I think) like Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane where He says, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done." And then she went. And now she's with Jesus, and it is beautiful and good and well with our souls, even though it really sucks. The prayers of the people have carried us in so many ways, showering this incredibly heavy grace over our family. I can definitely feel our "faith fires" growing throughout all of it.

If you would like to come celebrate Rhonda's life with us, her memorial service will be Saturday, April 20 at 10:00am at Belmont Church, 68 Music Square East, Nashville, TN. We would LOVE for you to come. There will be lots of worship with lots of people who love her dearly.

And because I heard this last night, and it made me think of her: