A Time to Be Born and . . .

. . . a time to die.

Lately I have been thankful to have the complexity of my current quilt project.

My husband's sister and her adult children all live about 1600 miles from Near Philadelphia. A year ago this month, she lost her husband of 60+ years. It was a hard way to start a new year. A couple of months later, Joe and our daughter flew to visit his sister, thinking that they could have a more meaningful visit then as opposed to trying to get there for the funeral, where there would be many other people to provide support. It turned out to be the right decision.

A few days before Christmas, not yet a month ago, we received a phone call from Joe's sister with more terrible news. Her daughter was gravely ill with a fast-moving, far-advanced, late-diagnosed cancer. Joe has a close and easy relationship with his sister's older son, who was the rock for his mother last January and now back in this role for his mother, again, and for his sick sister's sons. There have been many family phone calls in the past three weeks. 

Yesterday morning I received another telephone call, this one from the daughter of a woman I had met and become friends with in 1959. After high school and a couple of years of commuting together to our jobs in downtown Philadelphia, the circumstances of our lives determined that we'd never be geographically close again. We managed with telephone calls and occasional visits and while our connection weakened and ultimately pretty much dissolved, the affection remained. The daughter, whom I call Dibble for no particular reason other than I'm inordinately fond of her despite having only met her a handful of times, told me that my old friend was very, very ill with what sounded like the same cancer as Joe's niece; in addition, there is some dementia and a handful of other issues. In a time of lucidity, it seems she had remembered me and the many good times we had had together and wondered if we could talk again. I was moved to tears, and had to end our call. Later in the day I texted Dibble to ask her to arrange a video call the next time she is at her mother's.

Last evening came another call from Joe's nephew. The sick woman wanted to speak with him, and so that happened. There were some end-of-life decisions to be made and, knowing of my background in hospital chaplaincy, he asked me to help him to form a basis for the family to make those decisions. Joe and I had been feeling helpless, so far away from all that was going on; it was good to be able to be of some real help as they struggle. 

So, you see, there's been a lot going on, all of it difficult and very much on our minds. I've been glad to have piecing my diamond blocks as a distraction. There's no good news anticipated on either front, and that is hard. So I'm holding my husband's family in the Light, looking forward to one more "visit" with my old friend, and piecing diamond blocks, the more complicated the better right now.


 

Comments

Karla said…
I will lift all your loved ones up in prayer, including you. Distractions are quite necessary. Sending love and light.
Barbara Anne said…
My sympathy to all who are caught up in the sadness of such illness and likely impending loss. It's good you have such experience and can really be of practical help to these dear folks.
Each of you will be in my prayers.
What joy there is in creativity. Long ago I read an article, perhaps in Quilter's Newsletter, that was titled something like 'Quilting for Comfort' and was about sewing as a helpful endeavor when grieving.

Hugs!
Dotti in CT said…
Oh my. The burdens we share. But thankfully we have someone to pray to and for those who need his comfort. Reminds me of one of my teachers notes he wrote in my autograph book…yes I had one…When a friend is in need, there is no tomorrow. For an eight grader it was a bit vague to comprehend, with age it has come to mean more. Miles may separate , the heart does not calculate mileage. 🍓. Dotti in CT
Janet O. said…
My heart (and prayers) go out to you, Nancy. How weighed down your heart must be at this time. Having creative things to occupy our hands and mind in such situations I believe helps keep us from sinking far too deeply into the sorrow, by giving us something to focus on outside of the grief.
No matter that we know a Loving Father receives us on the other side, I know you understand that the part of this life that involves loving people, means there is such sadness at the loss of them. You are always so aware of others and their needs, I pray you will feel God's awareness of you and your heavy heart.
Mrs. Goodneedle said…
Sending heartfelt hugs and much love at this sad time. You and your family are in my prayers.
Nann said…
Nancy, I'm so sorry for you. I hope your video visits and calls will allow you and these dear friends to recall the happy times you've shared. And, yes, quilting provides occupation and something of a distraction.
Quiltdivajulie said…
Sending all manner of compassionate hugs to you . . . and so glad you have the complex diamonds to help calm your spirit.
Mystic Quilter said…
Sending virtual hugs to you and wishing you the strength to deal with all this sadness.
Judi said…
I'm so sad to read this post, Nancy. I hope that understanding the special gifts you are able to bring to these situations gives you some comfort.

Your special gifts are not just your experience as a hospital chaplain, but also your compassion for others.

Don't forget to take care of you, too - hopefully the making of your gorgeous blocks will bring you the calmness you need.