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| Woman on Houseback by Joyce L. Jones June 6, 1932 - December 25, 2012 |
Let me preface this post by saying what we all know: clarity is not the easiest thing to come by. Confusion often blankets moments of decision, making it difficult to find a clear path.
Several months ago I began diligent personal effort in taking the Holy Spirit to be my guide. In my heart, I feel I've always tired to live this way. But you don't realize where your aim is off until you engage in target practice and begin trying to hit the bullseye every time. You know what I'm getting at here...
On this path of seeking constant spiritual discernment, I made specific and particular choices to strengthen my ability to receive divine guidance, insight, and direction.
As with anything we strive for, it is preparation that precedes power. It is the preparation that makes us ready when the moment of opportunity arrives. This is true in everything.
The Saturday before Christmas I was having lunch downtown with a few of my children. My oldest daughter, Kelsie (24), my daughter-in-law, Rhea (28), and my youngest son, Keaton (20). Lunch had been served and we were discussing Christmas plans when my kid's grandmother, Joyce, came to my mind.
Joyce, my X-husband's mother, had not been well lately. Struggling with dysplasia, she couldn't speak and eating and drinking had become nearly impossible. My former father-in-law, Bruce, was taking care of her in their home.
I asked how grandma was doing. Kelsie announced that hospice had been called and Sean (one of Joyce's sons) was driving from Portland to Seattle to see his mother that day.
I felt a sudden and striking sense of urgency. "HOSPICE?!?!?"
Caught off guard by the news I began asking for details and the conversation about end of life arrangements broke loose. Fighting back the tears I asked for more information (which Kelsie didn't have) and my youngest son, Keaton, began to cry with heartbreaking emotion.
I left the restaurant with him, trying to comfort him. Then I called Juliet (my youngest daughter, 22) and Jackson (my oldest son, 26), hoping they would know more. They didn't. They called their dad. He didn't know much more, but said it would be fine to come up to WA after Christmas. He said there was time.
Feeling frustrated and unsettled, I decided to call Bruce. It had been years since we had spoken or I had seen them. But I loved them and I knew they loved and appreciated me. And driven to find some sort of clarity with regard to when I needed to get up there, I was desperate. I didn't want my children to experience losing their grandmother without seeing her one last time.
When it comes to crossroads in life and death, timing is everything.
Bruce said it was hard to know exactly how much time Joyce had. Hospice indicated two weeks to two months, roughly. He said things seemed to change from day to day and he was as uncertain about timing as everyone else had been. He said he was sure we had our Christmas plans, and that he thought coming after Christmas would be fine, but he also said (several times), "...the sooner the better, Kathleen".
I hung up the phone and pondered his words, praying intently to know what to do.
It wasn't long before I was given the discernment and absolute clarity that we needed to leave immediately.
My beautiful daughter-in-law, Rhea, backed me up and made sure Jackson was on board. He had to work the day after Christmas, so it was a LOT of driving for them in a very short period of time. We gathered together as a family several hours later and decided to leave that night.We made arrangements for our departure, packed, loaded our cars, and left SLC at 2:00 in the morning with the intent to drive straight through to Seattle. Not a short road trip through several mountain passes. In the winter...
But we all knew by how we felt that we were doing the right thing. A remarkable feeling of peace and tranquility settled over us all. And in spite of the circumstances, we felt happy to be doing this together as a family.
We arrived Sunday evening and my kids were able to have precious, precious time with their grandmother. She was able to communicate the feelings of her heart with them via an alphabet sheet where she could point to letters and spell out words. She communicated that she loved them and would always love them. She said she was moving on, but would come to them and be with them from the other side. I can't imagine a more meaningful way for my children to receive their grandmother's love.
This was a profound experience for my children. It wasn't that many years ago that Joyce didn't believe in an afterlife or God at all.
My time with her was sweet and tender and precious. Looking deeply into my tear filled eyes, she reached up and gently brushed my hair aside, touching my forehead with her loving, frail hands. I could feel her love and her gratitude that I brought the kids to see her. And I could feel her pride in the job I had done raising them.
Joyce had always encouraged me. Especially with regard to my education and professional pursuit as an architect. She was proud of me and told me so. Frequently. In the only way she was able to tell me in these last moments, she did so again, sharing with me that she knew I would be very successful. Her wisdom in life carried on through her death and she left me with words of comfort, strength, and promise I will never forget.
The next day was Christmas eve. Kelsie had started throwing up in the middle of the night. It was violent and constant, with no subsiding or relief in sight. So I took her to the ER early that morning. They put her on an IV, gave her medication to ease the vomiting, and Kelsie spent Christmas eve in the ER. :(
Offering her loving support, Rhea relieved me at the hospital so I could return to take care of Joyce while Bruce took a much needed break with his sons Geoff and Brian and his grandsons, Jackson and Keaton. I stayed with Joyce, feeding her ice chips, talking with her, sharing memories, and telling her funny stories about the kids to lighten her heart.
Knowing she wanted to move on, I told her about Priesthood blessings and the power they have to help us make transitions in our lives. Summoning the courage, I asked Joyce if she wanted one. She let me know it was a possibility, but she needed to think about it. When Bruce and the boys returned, I told Jackson what I had shared with his grandmother and Brian and Jackson went in to Joyce's room to talk with her.
I will never forget the next few minutes that passed. Brian sat there at Joyce's bedside, asking his mother if she wanted a blessing, the one and only blessing he would give her in his lifetime, or hers.
She said yes. No reservations this time.
When Brian came out of the room, he was in tears. But I knew that Joyce had what she needed and that the opportunity to give a blessing to his mother had been a healing experience and a blessing for them both.
A few family members dropped by, including Brian's niece Hally. I hadn't seen her in years and it was wonderful to reconnect with her and spend a little time with her, her husband, and boys. She looked just like she did when she was four years old. :) Seeing her again was a light to my heart. And to her grandmother's.
By dinner time it was just Bruce and Keaton and I. We had a lovely Christmas eve dinner and I was happy I could be there to support him. We cared for Joyce together and I could feel how grateful he was that I was there.
About 9:30 pm or so, Joyce became unresponsive. We positioned her and put her oxygen back on so she could rest peacefully and decided I would come back first thing in the morning. Bruce was tired and I needed to get back to hotel to care for Kelsie.
At 7:30 Christmas morning, Bruce called asking me to come over. When I arrived a short time later, he said Joyce was still unresponsive and it appeared she was in a coma. We kept checking and she was breathing, but still no response. So we called hospice.
While we were waiting for them to arrive, Bruce made a delightful Christmas breakfast. Cheesy eggs and bacon just the way I like it. So delicious. :) We talked about the events of the last day and a half and what a gift it was we were able to be there. He said, "you woke everyone up, Kathleen. ...when we talked on the phone, I thought it was an exaggeration when you said you'd drop everything and come that night if necessary. But it wasn't exaggeration. You meant it. Because that's just what you did."
Of course I did. Some things matter, most things don't. This mattered.
Bruce turned to look at me, looked me square in the eyes, and said, "Thank you." I felt his humble gratitude.
At 11:00 am Brian arrived and the hospice care worker was right behind him. She confirmed that Joyce was in a coma and talked with us about what to expect. Again, no clear information about time.
I brought chairs into Joyce's room so her family could be with her while they visited with each other. Bruce, Brian, and Kelsie sat in there talking and laughing, sharing memories of good times. Among others, Bruce shared the story of how he and her grandmother met and married. They were having such a wonderful time together.
It was a delightful conversation to listen to from the other room, their laughter filling the air of the house. I busied myself caring for Keaton, putting out food on the platters Joyce had made, and arranging chairs so people could gather just outside her door, should anyone else stop by.
Shortly after 1:00 pm, Joyce passed away, with Brian and Kelsie sitting there in the chairs at the end of her bed.
It could not have been more peaceful.
As I reflect on the experience, the brevity of time and the concentration of events, I marvel at the miracle. I am deeply and profoundly grateful we were there.
And I've realized, as I've reflected, that we were there because I was given the discernment to know we needed to be there. Immediately. And I was given the discernment to know what needed to happen because I was prepared to receive it.
Many months ago, when I began my journey of seeking to receive help from heaven, I was clear about what I wanted: God's inspiration and direction in my life, the Holy Spirit to be my guide.
Personal clarity with regard to wanting the gift of discernment to receive God's guidance and direction put me on a very distinct path. The clarity created commitment. And the commitment governed my choices and actions over time, preparing me for that moment when I would need to be able to see clearly. And without delay.
Joyce used to say, "You have to know what you want if you have any hope of getting it." She taught me so much about happiness and how to choose it for myself. Thank you, Joyce.
In her honor, I'm dedicating Happy #113 to her: Be clear about what you want.
My personal clarity about what I wanted is what served my family in a moment of need and got us to Washington in time to see Joyce before she died.
It's a new year.
Time to be clear. :D
Rest in peace, Joyce. I love you.
Kathleen
xoxoxo
