Facing Death

I don't want to think about it, what this day, the past few days, really, and the next few, to come, represent. But my mind goes there, in spite of the multitude of prayers and near begging antics I lay at the foot of God's throne. Trusting Him as I do, I know I must be in this place, in the here and now, and live out each day as a grieving mother for a reason. I know He has many reasons and a bigger plan, but oh, how I wish I could turn off the last days, the last hours of Allison's life. They serve no purpose to a saddened soul. Yet, by remembering I draw strength.

I cannot be in the first week of January without remembering how she faced death. It was really the first we had spoken of it, because in her 21 year old mind, and in ours, we prayed God's miracle would be a cure. We stuck to His medicine all the way, through the scriptures that carried her through treatments, to prayer time, to laying in bed and just giving thanks for so much. One day we watched Oprah and there was a young man who had eye cancer that caused both eyes to be removed, spreading to his tongue, and then causing him to be fed by a tube. Allison was so moved, as she always was by anyone's plight, and we actually stopped and prayed on the couch at that very moment. Not for her. But for him. She KNEW she would be fine, she planned to outlive this cancer.

In retrospect, I know more than I thought I would about facing death. I sat by my mother's side, my father's side, my daughter and a friend's sister, and Michael's side. While each circumstance was different, it was this world they didn't want to leave, for reasons known only to them, or shared if they chose to do so. We mortals believe we are needed here, and we are. No one wants to go on without the ones we love most in this world. I couldn't comprehend a life without my mother, my father, my daughter, I couldn't comprehend Chrissy's children living on without a much needed, and loved, mother, and I couldn't imagine this family without Michael. Now, all this is but a mere remembrance, because for some reason, some way, we are living without them.

Allison faced death in her own way. When she asked me if she would die, and I was honest in my answer, I will never forget her eyes. She already knew my answer. I didn't say yes, today, tomorrow, or the next day. I just told her that yes, we are all going to die, that is God's purpose for our life. There were a few times she cursed cancer, but mostly, she embraced it and fought and learned. She spoke of a time when she may change career paths and work with cancer patients in some capacity. She mapped out her life. She knew things no 21 year old should ever know. And she faced death with the love of Jesus in her heart. I know that makes it "easier" for me, her sister, her father, and her family. I know she is an instrument of His peace, to help guide, and who better to guide than her own uncle, who lived with his own diagnosis, right on the heels of hers. She gave him endless strength, courage, and love. Everywhere he went, he saw her. And as he faced his own death, there she was, arms outstretched, waiting, and he spoke of seeing her.

All of this brings me comfort, but all of this causes me grief. I am saddened at what the first week of January will always represent. I miss my child more than I can even articulate. I don't know how to go on, at times. But, then I remember the promise, my promise made to her, as she faced death. Yes, Allison, I will be okay, and I will live strong, and when I falter, I will look up. God will carry me, and you will guide me. When that promise was made, I could not imagine just how difficult it would be to live it out in my new reality. I didn't know just how gut wrenching every single day would be. I didn't know there was such a process, that grief isn't just in losing her, that it is also in letting her go, accepting, and moving. I didn't know so much. I didn't know that as she faced death, a part of me died, too.

She faced death with all the gusto a person could, wise beyond her years, connected to a loving God. But she didn't go easily. She fought and thrashed and yelled and begged. Those moments serve me no purpose to remember, but as the calendar days turn, they come rushing into my subconscious and rip apart a heart that is already crying. Please God let me remember where she is, that her work was done here, and that she rests safely and beautifully in your hands, being reunited with those who have faced their own death, in order to live.