Imagining Heaven

I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse,
 and He who sat on it is called Faithful and True. Revelation 19:11

I’ve been imagining what heaven is like for Dave. It’s helped me to focus on that instead of the circumstances how Dave died.

Dave had been living with a ticking time bomb. Our primary told us the good thing about the location of the tumor was that the end would be quick. Dave wouldn’t know what was happening, but I would. I asked the hospice nurse what to expect. She said most likely one day Dave wouldn’t wake up from his sleep.

That is how I envisioned it happening. Instead, I was gone, setting up for the Olde Fashioned Christmas art sale. He died alone. Thankfully, in God’s providence our friend, Mark, had come to visit Dave that night and he was the one who found him. I don’t think I would have ever recovered if I had come home and found Dave on the floor, not knowing how long he had been lying there.

I was spared of that, but the fact that I was at my art sale instead of with Dave ruined me. The last thing I wanted to do after Dave died was to paint. I forced myself to do a little painting with my former students on Watercolor Wednesdays, but I wouldn’t pick up a brush at home.

It’s been almost five months now, but there have been only three days where I haven’t cried at some point. I know I’m getting better though because I finally did a painting in my art room at home. It’s a painting that has been in my head for a long time. Its title is Faithful and True.

Last week I took off my wedding ring and put it away. I replaced it with one that Mom had made for me. She used the diamonds from her wedding ring to design rings for each of her daughters and granddaughters. The ring is special. I have worn it every day on my right hand since she gave it to me. It seemed fitting to wear it on my left now.

I had a dream about Dave. He was in heaven, welcoming me and giving me a big hug. He was handsome, restored to the health he had when he was a teenager before the tumor changed his life, before I knew him. He was happy. All has been made right for Dave, and he is in the presence of the one called Faithful and True. I long for the day I will be there too.

 

To be like Shirley

My mom is truly the most joyful person I know. She's only gotten happier as she's aged.

It's not obvious at first when you are with my mom that she has dementia until you realize how often says "I've had such a good life!" Then she goes on to recount all the blessings she's had from the time she was a little girl.

Her gratitude with life is almost a muscle memory thing now. She seems to only remember the positive and has forgotten the hard things--even the grief she felt after losing two husbands.

Mom and Dad were happily married for 55 years. Three years after Dad passed away, Mom married Warren. She and Warren had four great years together. 

I remember her missing Dad terribly after he was gone. She frequently touched his photo on the book shelf and would tell him she missed him.

Warren passed away with cancer during the peak of the Covid shutdown. It was a rough time to grieve alone. A few weeks after Warren's funeral, Mom ended up going to the ER with chest pains.  

The requisite tests were done to see if Mom was having a heart attack. The doctor came in with the results. Her heart function had actually improved from the cardiac tests done a few months prior.  

The doctor then took me to the side and said he thought something else was going on. "I think your mom has what's called broken heart syndrome." He explained that broken heart syndrome occurs when the heart muscle is suddenly stunned or weakened following severe emotional stress. 

I know that broken heart syndrome is real after experiencing it the last months. I felt like a knife had been plunged into the center of my heart when I was told Dave was gone. Even now, I feel the ache and pressure at times.

A few weeks ago, I asked my mom what it was like losing two spouses. I don't know that I'll ever stop missing Dave, but maybe I can be like Shirley and have the muscle memory of gratitude.