Well, here it is after eleven at night and I'm still up. I'm exhausted, emotionally, mentally and physically. I mean fully drained.
Erica and I sat in the room where Valentina lay in a coma and sang songs to her, prayed every prayer we could find on the Internet. We sang so many songs I practically know them all by heart. We sat on her bed rubbing her feet, massaging her legs and anointing her with oil. Hours spent helping her prepare to leave this earth. You know, something strange happened to me for all the hours spent on the end of her bed, I sang really loud not ashamed of my bad singing voice. I know that God doesn't care about my pitch, I sang with my heart. It felt good, actually a relief to be free with the songs as a final gift to my friend.
It is a relief she is gone, I know she is not suffering any more. Nothing is worse than watching it. She was a hero in my book. She tried so hard to keep upbeat, to not take medicine, to try and meditate out the pain etc. Oh, I also know it is not for me. Please keep me doped up. I'm a chicken and if it is my last days I don't want to be suffering
The main thing I found was about myself. When I ask the question "Why me?" whenever I am called upon to be a caregiver, I'm actually making it about me. This had nothing to do with me. When I try to figure out why me? I’m losing focus on what it is I need to be doing. I gave her that which she asked for.. a peaceful place surrounded by those that loved her. We did it. I promised her "together to the end." All my family members were not with me on this. It didn’t matter, I gave my word and I stood my ground. Everyone sacrificed. She had my all in all. I shouldn’t be made to be ashamed to do what I do and yet I’m always made to feel like I have done something wrong. Caiti sacrificed by allowing (actually I didn’t give her a choice) her to stay in her room and bunk with her brothers and Erica. She has never had to share as she is the baby and the only girl. I plan to repaint her room and get her maybe a new window.
When the people came from the mortuary to pick her up they came in a mini van. I imagined the hearse from days of old. He showed up in a purple van. A van much like my own. Now when I see a van I'm going to wonder if it is in fact a death van. If you have not heard a song by Michael W. Smith called "I can only imagine". You need to download it and hear it. It is the song I have heard in my dreams, in my wake hours as well. I know this blog is all over the place but I'm all over the place in my mind. i have to find some pants now. Valentina asked me specifically to wear pants to her funeral. That will be the last thing I can do to honor her. I feel like wearing a skort because it is me. Not me trying to be something else, I feel claustrophobic something fierce in pants. I mean terrible claustrophobic. Tomorrow I will be onto something else. So much has been happening with all things Princess Petunia. Thank you God for taking Valentina home. We are not in charge and thank you for the reminder that it isn’t about me and never has been. This might be my last blog about Valentina. I’m sure I have said more than you have ever wanted to hear. Pray for her…. And me.
Erica and I sat in the room where Valentina lay in a coma and sang songs to her, prayed every prayer we could find on the Internet. We sang so many songs I practically know them all by heart. We sat on her bed rubbing her feet, massaging her legs and anointing her with oil. Hours spent helping her prepare to leave this earth. You know, something strange happened to me for all the hours spent on the end of her bed, I sang really loud not ashamed of my bad singing voice. I know that God doesn't care about my pitch, I sang with my heart. It felt good, actually a relief to be free with the songs as a final gift to my friend.
It is a relief she is gone, I know she is not suffering any more. Nothing is worse than watching it. She was a hero in my book. She tried so hard to keep upbeat, to not take medicine, to try and meditate out the pain etc. Oh, I also know it is not for me. Please keep me doped up. I'm a chicken and if it is my last days I don't want to be suffering
The main thing I found was about myself. When I ask the question "Why me?" whenever I am called upon to be a caregiver, I'm actually making it about me. This had nothing to do with me. When I try to figure out why me? I’m losing focus on what it is I need to be doing. I gave her that which she asked for.. a peaceful place surrounded by those that loved her. We did it. I promised her "together to the end." All my family members were not with me on this. It didn’t matter, I gave my word and I stood my ground. Everyone sacrificed. She had my all in all. I shouldn’t be made to be ashamed to do what I do and yet I’m always made to feel like I have done something wrong. Caiti sacrificed by allowing (actually I didn’t give her a choice) her to stay in her room and bunk with her brothers and Erica. She has never had to share as she is the baby and the only girl. I plan to repaint her room and get her maybe a new window.
When the people came from the mortuary to pick her up they came in a mini van. I imagined the hearse from days of old. He showed up in a purple van. A van much like my own. Now when I see a van I'm going to wonder if it is in fact a death van. If you have not heard a song by Michael W. Smith called "I can only imagine". You need to download it and hear it. It is the song I have heard in my dreams, in my wake hours as well. I know this blog is all over the place but I'm all over the place in my mind. i have to find some pants now. Valentina asked me specifically to wear pants to her funeral. That will be the last thing I can do to honor her. I feel like wearing a skort because it is me. Not me trying to be something else, I feel claustrophobic something fierce in pants. I mean terrible claustrophobic. Tomorrow I will be onto something else. So much has been happening with all things Princess Petunia. Thank you God for taking Valentina home. We are not in charge and thank you for the reminder that it isn’t about me and never has been. This might be my last blog about Valentina. I’m sure I have said more than you have ever wanted to hear. Pray for her…. And me.
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1 comment:
You are truly amazing!!! You are such a rolemodel for me. I say that true as true!!! I hope to someday be as compassionate as you, as strong as you, and as forgiving as you!!
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