It was such a blow to the gut last spring as we learned that Sugarlump's colon cancer had returned after five years of absence. It didn't sneak in, it crashed in loud and large and our heads swirled as we tried to grapple with the truth that this thing was big and there was nothing to do to stop it from slowly but surely taking her life. Such a hopeless feeling. Such an amazing lady. So giving. So gracious. So kind. So full of life. Such an amazing cook. Each dish prepared with her secret ingredient - pure undiluted joy in serving those she loves. Her smile hugs you warm and tight.
The chemo wasn't effective - her body couldn't withstand the poison. Surgery wasn't an option - the risk of her not making it through the surgery was too great and there weren't any guarantees that it could even be removed. Thus, started our agonizing wait for the inevitable. I marveled to watch each of her 5 children, their 5 spouses, 16 living grandchildren, adoring sisters, nieces, nephews, and lifelong friends as they each poured out from the overflow of love in their hearts for this amazing lady who had loved them so lavishly for years. How do you cram in all the words you want to make sure that she hears before her departure? How do you capture each sweet kiss and stolen glance for safe keeping?
It won't be long now. Things are changing quickly. While our hearts throb with the reality that we will be separated soon, there is a quiet peace knowing that this dividing chasm will be temporary. As we stand alongside her and wait, we thank God for the angels known as hospice who will guide us through this birthing process into her new life. Our deep sorrow is only trumped by our wide-eyed wonder at what lies ahead for her in eternity.
Chris Rice sings it well:
"And soon He turns the final page
We'll look the Author in the face
Then the book really begins
'Cause something tells me all these years of memories
Are only the first sentence of eternity "
("Nonny Nonny" by Chris Rice)
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