It’s easy to be grateful; when there is money in the bank, the family is healthy, there is food on the table, the sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, the shower water stays hot, and the kids are enjoying school. It can however be a much harder concept to lean into when things are not going so well; when someone you love is dying, the world you know is changing and there is going to be a new normal, one that you can’t quite get your head around or accept. This is precisely the time to get grateful, to recognize the gift in the lesson, and to find the space to give thanks… once you have finished crying that is.
In 1998, having lived on beautiful Vancouver Island less than three years, we got the call; you know the kind of call we all dread. My mother-in-law, Margaret, had broken her arm, and they had found a tumour and were going to need to operate; it looked like cancer. Still reeling from having just lost my father-in-law to cancer, a few months before, this was a shock we felt unprepared to handle. We quickly went from disbelief, into action mode. We bought the plane tickets, told the children we were going to visit Grandma for two weeks, paid the bills, took vacation time from work, and prepared for the cross country journey to Toronto. We wore brave faces and made silent deals with whoever was listening.
We arrived to hugs and kisses, and tears. We made plans to bring Margaret to the Island, to the beautiful healing West Coast, where she could recover from her grief, and her illness, and continue on the road to wellness. Our solution was short lived.
Following the surgery, we met with the doctors to discuss Margaret’s prognosis and our idea for West Coast recovery. We heard words such as secondary and primary cancer and then the word ‘terminal’, and we sat quiet, and cried and watched our hopes for healing drift out the open window into an afternoon filled with sunshine, from a room filled with nothing but darkness.
Then we did what we have so often done when facing a life decision, we made a cup of tea and asked ourselves, “What would love do here?” and as always, the answer came immediately; we had to stay, until the end, and help Margaret die. What now seems like a blur became a flurry of activity, as we set about making our decision happen. We knew it would be difficult – for us, for our children, for my parents living back in our shared house on the Island. We knew we could lose our jobs, run out of money, and that our children would need to go to school in a town they barely recognized with children they didn’t know. But we also knew that we had love and a strong family on our side and that whatever we were facing could never be as dark as what Margaret was facing, her own end. What we didn’t yet know was that the next seven months would bring us the most amazing gifts, that we would become less fearful and more grateful as time went on, and that the lessons would stay with us forever.
As the days drew in, and we lived our new normal, feelings of gratitude began to grow. Of course, there were still many tears, but there was also laughter and joy and smiles along the way, birthday parties, school field trips, family holiday dinners; the stuff of life. There was tremendous support from new and old friends, and people rallied to provide. In the most unlikely places, we found courage we lacked, strength we needed, and love, in every place we looked. We found grace, and more and more, we moved from a place of deep sadness to a place of acceptance, to a place of grace and of thanks. Over a seven month period, it seemed as though every one and every thing conspired to help us, to make it easier, to assist us in our journey. We didn’t get what we wanted, but we were surrounded with what we needed:
- Our employers out west held our jobs, indefinitely.
- Margaret advanced our inheritance so we could pay our mortgage and our bills back home and continue to live in Ontario.
- My sister-in-law made room for her mother which meant our family of five could live in Margaret’s house.
- We packed up her household things and sold her house while Margaret concentrated on her health.
- My sister-in-law owned a swimming pool – I swam every day after our hospital visits.
- The nurses in the Chemotherapy ward allowed me to stay with Margaret all day; I did some typing and filing, played guitar and sang to patients, took lunch orders, read books, delivered milkshakes and fries, and interviewed people about their life’s story and what really matters.
- The local School Board made an exception that allowed all three children to attend the same school and meant our twin boys could stay together in the same kindergarten class.
- We spent time with our two baby nieces and got to know them up close and personal.
- Old friends brought bikes, skateboards, summer clothes, toys, books and games to our young children (aged 5, 5, and 9), so they would feel more at home.
- Three amazing women took care of our children after school on the days when Chemo didn’t go so well – our daughter is still in touch with these angels and their families.
- The hospital staff made us feel welcome, and brought us a cot when we needed to stay the night.
- We had time to say the important things, and let of go of the less important things.
- Our children learned about love, duty, commitment, family, life, death, fear and compassion and grew stronger hearts.
- We came home with no regrets and some amazing memories.
So, as we all move forward these many years later, to prepare for another Thanksgiving weekend without my husband’s mum or dad, we give thanks; for the opportunity to spend that final year with Margaret, for the family that not only stood by us but put their arms around us and surrounded us with love, and for the lessons and gifts along the way that won’t be forgotten and that continue to remind us of what is truly important…our time here together, for however long it lasts.
Happy THANKS GIVING
Photo Credit
Vancouver Island Photo – from The Microsoft Office Clipart Collection
Article Thumbnail – Girl Silhouette By hotblack at morgueFile
First Published At Living With Grace
Guest Author Bio
Linda Hunter
Linda Hunter is an independent writer and event planner, who is dedicated to service and open to possibility. She lives on beautiful Vancouver Island, where she gratefully shares her heart, her table and her home with her husband, three grown children, and her mother, Grace.
With over 30 years of experience in Writing, Conference & Event Management, and Community Service, Linda is a passionate and authentic individual who is committed to being her very best self at work, at home, and in her community. Her first book, “An Unforgettable After-Grad” was published in 2010 and she is currently writing her second book “Living with Grace”. She lives by the motto “We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give” coined by Winston Churchill.
Follow Linda: After Grad Website | After Grad Twitter Page | Living With Grace Blog | Linda On Twitter
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