99. A Peek Around a Corner

I got a peek into my family’s life once I am gone. Marchrie and Mom had a gathering at 1 Inwood this past Saturday. It was part, “We couldn’t go to Wells, but since we’re all local, let’s have a cookout,” and part, “Let’s celebrate Don’s birthday,” which is usually done at Wells.

I couldn’t go, of course.

It was really important to me that my whole OB troupe be in attendance so I wrangled Jennifer as my sitter and sent the others on their way. Before my family had their fun in the sun, each one of them, even Hadley, asked privately if it was okay with me that they were leaving. I assured them it was perfectly fine. Hadley’s consolation was the promise that she’d smuggle a cupcake for me. I agreed wholeheartedly that getting a cupcake was almost as good as being there in the first place. Keep in mind, my family members gave up their summer in Wells so they could stay near me, so they could spend time with me — time none of us thought we would have. So I said, “Go and enjoy!”

I got a peek into my family’s life once I am gone.

Gone. It’s a new word I’m exploring.

Gone from my life is the need to pull every thought, fear, or feeling apart. The change in my attitude may be part of the ‘normal’ hospice experience, or it may be that I’m exhausted by the arduous process of mentally preparing to leave my life, or it may be that I’ve found the answers I needed to find. I don’t really know, but at some time in the future, I will be gone. I can’t do a damn thing about it. I knew that on November 1st and throughout my final journey, but there is real acceptance now. There is also a deep sense of peace inside. It comes from knowing that I am leaving behind the best parts of who I am.

The be all and end all of Sheryll O’Brien

There is not one shred of doubt that I am slowing down. The most obvious sign that I’m inching toward my end is the long periods of waking hours that have become long periods of non-waking hours. If we divide a day in half we have 12 hours in which we do the stuff we want to do. That equation wasn’t necessary, it was an opportunity for Sheryll Bodine to show off her math skills. Impressive, huh? The other day, I had 4 ½ awake hours between sunup and sundown and two hours around midnight. That amount of wakey-wakey time was on the short side of things, but I’m not getting much more than that lately. I spend most of my awake hours working on blogs, and spending a few minutes chatting on the phone with Mom, but when I just can’t string things together — words or thoughts — I fill my time with things I never used to do like surfing the web.

Recently, I began reading inspirational quotes about death and dying. Some focus on the individual who’s ready to bounce to the flip side; others are for those who’ll be left behind. I spend most of my time reading those because my deepest concerns are for my loved ones.

Is that saying meant to prepare loved ones or to soothe them? It’s hard to tell being on this side of the life/death scenario. I want the lives of my loved ones to not only go on, but to flourish in ways they might not have, had I still been here. I want them to embrace the changes that come along. I want their relationships with one another to grow; I want them to find ways of taking the bits and pieces of who I was and embracing them, maybe even adopting some of them into their lives. Knowing they will never be the same gives me an odd sense of hope that they will lead lives of purposeful change.

My daughters are wonderful ‘onion’ people.

Peel back a layer of our shared love of music and you’ll find Hannah, a keen thinker who instinctively knows what is right, and even if she doesn’t like it, she does it. And beneath that you’ll find a passionate creator of things to keep others warm. And beneath that you’ll find someone with a dry sense of humor to go with a dry glass of wine. There are so many other layers that are pure and unfussy in matters of the heart and friendship. And at the final layer you’ll find a woman who loves being a mother more than any other thing.

There’s lots of me in there.

Peel back a layer of our shared love of reading and you’ll find Jessica, someone who has a highly organized and efficient way of doing things. And beneath that you’ll find an easy conversationalist who is quick to fall into laughter or to bring it about. And beneath that you’ll find someone who can repeat a story or a movie scene verbatim. There are so many other layers that are sweet and nurturing and considerate. And at the final layer you’ll find a woman who loves thinking about her place in the universe, and finding ways to be a compassionate participant in our world.

There’s lots of me in there.

I’d made short- and long-term retirement plans with my husband. They won’t be realized. I’ve tried to push in a bit with suggestions for Tim; things that might help fill his time, things that he’s wanted to do forever. Since our forever is being cut short, I really hope he jumps into the deep end and books a trip to Ireland. I want him to see ‘the greens’ of his ancestral homeland. I want him to do something purely for himself, to be somewhere that finds his core and replenishes him. I want him to enrich his life, claim parts that have been just out of reach because of the constraints of the life we lived together. I want him to take an art class or a photography class or find something new to try. I want him to grieve and then I want him to move on; to live his life without sorrow or guilt.

I no longer fear that Hadley will forget me.

To those who have shared this part of my life,

please know that you have helped light my darkest days.

~ Sheryll

Another Goodbye

Christmas season 2021 sure was different. I’d recently been told I was on a death march — one that had to be done with my ass permanently affixed to a chair. The physical state I was in left me straddled between a quick death should something break, and a somewhat slower death should the cancer do its thing. Given the state of my skeletal system, rather disturbing I’d say, that became my healthcare priority. It was the focus of my team, rightly so, and it became the place for my immediate fears about dying. I really feared a sudden death and lived each day, each moment, with a heightened sense of urgency.

Bottomline, I didn’t know if I’d live to see Christmas, 

my birthday or the ringing in of a New Year.

If you’ll remember, I spent some time reflecting on past Christmases and birthdays and what I wanted most during that holiday season. In Blog 22, Christmas, I wrote:

The thing I wanted most on my last Christmas was the gift of human contact. The embrace of family members — some who drove a few miles to see me, and others who traveled the Eastern Seaboard to give and receive a hug.

Had I not been diagnosed in November, my brother and sister-in-law would not have driven from Georgia to Massachusetts for Christmas. They always celebrate the holiday down south, choosing to make their annual trek north during summer months, so we can all bask in the warmth of family love on the sandy beach in Wells, Maine.

This year my 66 year-old brother did the 1,055 mile drive to ensure that I’d get the ultimate combo Christmas/Birthday gift ever! Him.

I shared our goodbye experience in Blog 23, Hardest Birthday Ever:

I stood from my recliner and waited … I tried not to look at Don when he approached, but I couldn’t help myself. By the time he reached me his eyes were full of tears.

My brother is a strong man, but he is a tender-hearted man, as well. There have been occasions when I’ve seen his tears form, but there have been very few times when I’ve seen his tears flow. He held them tight when he wrapped me in his arms and whispered how much he loved me. It took a good minute for us to end our embrace.

I watched him exit my home and plopped onto my recliner — without a single thought I might fracture my ass. Within seconds, he was back inside my house and I was once again in his arms. This time he let his tears fall as he walked away.

I believed that was the last time I would see my brother.

And. Then. This. Happened.

I lived much longer than the best case scenario. I lived long enough to see Don and Denise during the week we always spend summer vacation. There were a few tweaks to what everyone did and where everyone went, but we were all together; that was the most blessed tweak of all. I saw my brother and sister-in-law again. I spent time with them: chatting, laughing, reminiscing, bonding. It was wonderful until it wasn’t.

August 3rd Don and Denise came to visit. We knew the end of that visit would include another goodbye scene. In spite of that, we had plenty of laughs, mostly about his playing golf with many of his best buddies forever; guys he’s known since grade school, guys whose relationships have stood the test of time. He shared the concern and sadness of Stevie Hennigan, Tom McCabe, Jay Walsh, David Urella, Johnny Engdahl, Denny Gosler, Jerry Powers, Bobby Mucclouh and Johnny Bollack. Just hearing their names, their real names being used in relation to my situation was like a sucker punch — this is some serious shit, as Don would say.

That serious shit preceded this serious shit. After our happy little visits, Don asked for a minute alone with me. He sort of just stared at me then said, “I didn’t think we’d be doing this again.” I started to raise my chair so I could get up. “No, no. Just stay there, I will hug you from here.” It was awkward and things felt unfinished when he kissed my cheek, and said, “I love you Sheryll. I’ll miss you.” He turned and walked out. Denise and Hannah were waiting for him, they waited an extra minute because I called him back. I was standing waiting because I needed a better hug, a real hug — a final goodbye hug.

I had it and it was a reminder …

I was blessed with a second ‘final hug’ from my brother.

God is good. God is great. And I love him.

I love you, too, Don.

I am working on my 100th blog. Who would have thought that would happen? I’m hoping you will help me with it. If you would email me at: pullingthreadsnovella@gmail.com and tell me two things: what celebrity (singer, actor, athlete, or public figure) you would want to meet in Heaven, and who you knew personally that you would want to spend time with, that would be wonderful. If you object to my using your name, just say so. Tell me as much or as little as you would like.

Putting the 100th blog together will take time given my Sheryll Van Winkle condition of late, so it won’t be posted until next Friday. If you could take a quick minute and send your decisions along, I would be very appreciative. Have a great week ~ Sheryll

And for those who haven’t seen your letters yet, I’ll be including them beginning with Blog 101. Thank you all for participating. This was wonderful!