Things

Things come in waves. I might be ok most of the day, then something hits. My father-in-law built a ramp for her, so she would not have to climb steps into the house. She was too weak for that after all the steroids. I guess it’s been up for a month. I hate seeing it. I want to stomp on it, break it, set it on fire, pee on it. Who knows why?

John has been asking me what we’re going to do the next few days. I told him tomorrow is visitation, and as I explained it, he said, “Like Hugh’s.” Well, it was Hugh’s father, but yeah, just like that. He said, “Joe and I said, ‘we haven’t seen a dead body, and you wouldn’t let us. We obeyed you. But we won’t this time. We want to see Mommy.” I told them they could, and they could stay as they wanted to.

Then I told them that Saturday would be the funeral, which I explained as a worship service. “It’ll be in the church where Mommy and I got married. The man preaching married Mommy and Daddy, and he baptized you and Joseph.” At that, his eyes got big.

Melissa’s mom told me about talking with John about being sad about Mommy, about missing her. John cried a little bit, and told her that he had a way to talk to Mommy. He cupped his hands to his mouth, said, “I love you,” opened his hands in front of his face and blew towards heaven.

Butterflies—they have been special for Melissa. There’s “The Butterflies,” a women’s group at Christ Church that prayed for Melissa. People would send cards that had butterflies on them. One day in prayer, Tim Jones told her he had a vision of her as a little girl, walking thru a field full of butterflies. This had happened to her when she was a little girl, so she was shocked that he saw it in such detail. Then he said he saw her walking with the butterflies, holding Jesus’ hand. She held on to that time of prayer, that vision, and it brought such great comfort.

Someone sent us a butterfly bush, and I think maybe we will plant a butterfly garden, outside the porch, by the window where she sat. For hours she would sit and watch the woods and the field here in Waddy.

I told the boys that when we see a butterfly, we’ll think of Mommy. They saw one today.

The kicker is, we thought we had this licked. The doctors did, too. Geoff Herzig was shocked and disappointed. He is normally the picture of reason- analysis, calm decisions, quick thinking when you need it. Roger Herzig came into her room and cried. We came to him in December of 2005 and he seemed to know everything about what she needed after only having her chart for 30 minutes. We were comforted by his words and demeanor. Everything went so well. Cancer free since August.

The staff at the bone marrow clinic said they never saw anyone fight so hard and have such courage and grace. We spent parts of every week there with them. You get to know staff and patients. Folks, remember to pray for the Herzig brothers—they bring a lot of knowledge and care to what they do. Their staff is full of compassion and care. We’ve never seen such nurses! And if you need a place to send some money, send it to the Blood and Marrow Transplant Clinic at the James Graham Brown Center. Dr. Geoff told us that they will take what they have learned from Melissa’s case and use it to benefit other patients.

Melissa said at the beginning of this cancer journey that she wanted to be a witness for God—His love and His power. Whatever happened, that was all she wanted. She was ok with whatever. She wanted to survive for me, her boys, her family. But if she did not make it, she wanted to be a witness to those she came into contact with. Just last week, she talked to two patients who were distraught at how badly they felt. I sat there amazed, knowing that I was witnessing the best pastoral care I have ever seen.

The night she died, my parents, brother, and I grabbed a bite to eat. I did not want to go anywhere she and I had been. But when we got to a place we had not been, it didn’t feel right. It felt wrong. Does life go on? That doesn’t seem right. We always liked Harper’s restaurant in Louisville. I saw that it closed down, and I was glad—a place I could not go anymore. And how sad is that? I mean, people lost their jobs.

I had a million nicknames for her. And for the boys. We saw a restaurant called Buca di Beppo, and my mom said Beppo is an Italian nickname for Joseph. Wow, a new name for one of my boys. And I thought, no way. Sissy doesn’t get to call him that. It seems stupid, but there you have it.