Heaven Can Wait . . . P.S. I Love You ALL! Part 1

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This year I will turn forty-two, but as I look in the mirror, I picture that little blonde girl from 1975 that played in the summer sunshine as her parents looked on from the porch swing. Then it evaporates into the reality of the present. I’m an orphan. Well, that’s how it feels now.

My story echoes that of a Lifetime Network movie. There are others whose stories are far worse than mine and I know that. When it’s happening to you it feels as if you are the only one. For me it was unchartered territory, and for my family, a journey that has formed who we are and brought up questions of where we go from here . . .

To recount this chain of events I will preface with the fact that I consider myself a person of strength to a certain extent, having a baby girl born with severe birth trauma requiring a year and a half of medical care following an emergency Life Flight, losing one baby to miscarriage half way through gestation, and delivering a baby boy C-section during which doctors had to remove a few of my organs, all before the age of twenty-six. All of this during a very stormy marriage leading up to a less than amicable divorce! Heaven held one of my babies and now had both sets of grandparents as well as some very special friends.

Keeping true to my faith I was blessed with a very special man who would love me and my family through some very difficult times. My prayers were answered the day I married my husband Lonnie. Little did we know what lay ahead for us as a couple.

No longer able to have children, Lonnie and I decided to adopt. My sister Dena is adopted so it wasn’t a new concept for us. A dear friend called with news that social services had two beautiful little boys who were taken in from severe abuse and neglect background. We didn’t hesitate. We had our hands full repairing the damage done to their little hearts and minds but with the love and support of our family and friends they blossomed. We adopted the boys before Mom got too sick to enjoy them and that was what she lived for. 

Mom’s cancer moved to her lungs, liver, and brain shortly after and our days were filled with hospice care. We learned to administer strong drugs, drain her ever-filling lung, and keep her as comfortable as possible. Friends and family pitched in wherever needed. Dad’s heart was breaking as they had been together since they were fourteen. The love of his life was slipping away and there was nothing we could do. If our tears could have saved her she’d be with us today. Mom died September 14, 2009 on the porch where she watched her birds at the age of fifty-nine.

My sister Dena and I had just gotten Dad home from a hip replacement and now had to make funeral arrangements for Mom. Dad was the chief of police in our city and had to take time off for his own health as well as Mom’s. It was a nightmare. My young vibrant parents aged in fast forward. Funny thing, so did my sister and I. Every first responder, law enforcement officer, and family member in the tri-state came to support us as they lined the walls of the church for the funeral. It was a sight to behold. We gave out three hundred roses (Mom’s favorite flower) that day. Mom loved everything garden and it was a beautiful tribute. A statue of a garden angel was placed by her garden club in our city park. A remembrance of our garden angel who sowed such a close little family over the years . . .

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