1/31/19 Called home

Dear friends,
     It is with great sadness that I report that Gabrielle was called home early this morning just before 3:00.  Renee, Daniel and I were at her bedside as she passed.  We are all rejoicing that she is now free from suffering and the burdens that weighed her down during her cancer struggle.  I guess seeing last night's wonderful pink sunset was too enticing, so she just had to see what was behind the curtain.
     We take solace in the fact that she was a woman who had strong faith in Jesus Christ, love for her family and friends, and was someone who embraced life to the fullest, even in the midst of illness.  
     I will post details on her service as they develop.  Here's one of my favorite pictures of her (along with a special friend of hers).

Gabrielle Dudley

She fought the good fight.  And now there is in store for her a crown of righteousness, which the Lord will award to her.  It's going to have a lot of jewels in it!

1/30/19 Red sky at night, sailor's delight

     I am sitting in the bedroom alongside Gabrielle right now.  I briefly looked up and noticed the most amazing beautiful pink sky through the trees.  It's absolutely stunning.  I know.  By the time you read this, it will be gone.  Maybe there will be another pink sky tomorrow.  There's something about a pink sunset that cheers my heart.  Maybe it's because of that maritime saying: "red sky at night, sailor's delight; red sky at morn, sailors take warn".  I like to think that God is giving Gabrielle a foretaste of what's in store for her up yonder, a pulling back the curtains for a sneak preview, if you will.  
     Our bedroom setup is such that she is lying in bed, on her left side facing the windows looking to the south through a bunch of trees.  Even though we are surrounded by houses, the view from the bedroom is so peaceful: trees, pink skies.  She opens her eyes and looks off through the window, lost in thought, reflective.  So peaceful.  I take comfort in the fact that she is no longer restless.  She is breathing smoothly and without any effort.  
     She is so strong, such a champion. She has fought well.  Now the warrior is getting her much deserved, well-earned rest.  
Now the sailor is approaching that safe harbor.
     And that's pretty much it for now.  Thanks for checking in from time to time.  So many people have expressed been supportive of Gabrielle (and all of us) on this journey.  Thanks to all of her "shipmates" on this journey.

1/26/19 Settling down a bit

I think that Gabrielle is transitioning out of the “restless” phase into a deeper sleep.  Her breathing is smooth and steady, and she has been comfortable just remaining in bed, which is where she stayed all day yesterday.  It was the first day that she did not want to go downstairs and settle into her much beloved blue living room couch.  In keeping with the travel metaphor from before, I like to think that the past couple of days, she was bustling around the train station, getting ready for her trip.  Now she has boarded the train and has settled quite comfortably into her cabin on the train…first class, of course, with private attendant, no less! Rumor has it that she may be on her way to a gated community, adorned with pearls no less!  What’s not to like about that?

As for how all of us are holding up, I can only speak for myself.  The kids don’t like me to assume that I know what they are thinking, but I will say that it has been unbearably hard on all of us.  No doubt, the hardest thing any of us have had to go through.  They are holding up amazingly well, with grand servant hearts that make a father proud.  And their partners have been so helpful as well, so thanks to Riley and Adrienne! You are real gems!

I try and get out a little bit in between my time at home with Gabrielle.  I have popped into work from time to time, which helps center me in many ways.  I may go for a swim today.  It is sunny, after all.  To help process things, I am reading a short book by Henri Nouwen, who was a Catholic priest. It is a set of reflections on losing a significant relationship in his life. On the “lighter” side, I am also reading a Russian novel and one by Stephen King.  If I asked you to guess which one has the devil roaming the streets unchecked and features a black cat that rips someone’s head off, I’d bet you’d get it wrong.  That’s the Russian novel.  Reading a book like that makes my life look downright easy.  The Stephen King book is a departure from his horror books, which I don’t read.  This one is called Elevation and has been called “the feel good book of the year”. And that’s enough of Steve’s book reviews for now.

Daniel just spent the night on the floor next to Gabrielle and he texted me that he wants to get up so he can get some real sleep. So I guess I will wander upstairs with my Russian novel and relieve him.  Someone’s got to put the brakes on that black cat.  

Now here's someone who is all set for a tough day at the beach!  If I'm lucky, she's got the cat back in the bag.

1/24/19 Getting restless

      Gabrielle has entered a phase, which the hospice nurse calls terminal restlessness.  She will be lying quietly, as if she is sound asleep, and then sit bolt upright and want to move somewhere else.  She will move from the couch to the easy chair (with assistance, of course), and we get her all settled and tucked in.  She puts her head back and has a peaceful, dreamlike look on her face, but then literally two minutes later, she is on the move again.  Sometimes, she stays in one place for half an hour to an hour, but then shuffles around a bit.  Happily, these restless episodes are punctuated with periodic stretches of sleep lasting for several hours—usually on the living room couch, or in bed.  Right now, for example, she is asleep on the couch (it’s 7:45 AM), after a fairly restful night’s sleep. 

The hospice nurse mentioned that this is a fairly common phase that people in the terminal stages of life go through.  OK, I’ll say it: “people who are dying go through”. It’s hard to describe her in those terms, but clearly that’s the situation.  The nurse said that in this phase, people often talk about needing to find their keys, or pack their bags.  They mention that they are going somewhere. It’s almost as if that the need to get ready for a trip is a metaphor for life’s final journey.

As before, her pain appears to be under good control.  She still has no appetite, and it seems that the only liquids she wants are those to keep her mouth moist.  We accomplish this with small sips and also from those little pink sponges on a stick that hospitals love (no, we didn’t steal them…hospice gave them to us).  I don’t think she is suffering, and that’s so comforting to see.  I feel so blessed to have such great kids to help with Gabrielle.  It is also nice to know that there is such a great hospice team focused on making her remaining time with us as comfortable as possible.  She loves her home, and this is where she wants to be.  I find solace, in the midst of these dark times, that we are able to provide that for her.  It sure beats being in a hospital with tubes, IV machines beeping and people interrupting sleep at odd hours to get vitals or draw blood.  

In the time it took me to write these paragraphs, Gabrielle has sat upright at least ten times and has booted me out of the easy chair. Then she got up and moved to the other couch in the family room.  Earlier, when she was on the other couch and sat up, I sidled up next to her.  I put my arm around her and told her that I loved her while I stroked that cute head of hers (hair is coming back in).  I then said that Daniel was upstairs, out of sight and asked her if she wanted to do some smooching.  I got a little smile, in return, but no action.  I pecked her on the cheek and tucked her back in, where she stayed for a few minutes.

And now, just for fun, a couple of pictures from our trip to Greece in 2015:

I just love the idea of getting a "genuine fake"!  This was outside the place where the Virgin Mary is said to have spent her final years.  I wonder if they sold genuine fake Gucci sundials in her day?

Gabrielle "doing" Ephesus.  This is the main street, and I think that's the library in the background...one of the largest in the ancient world at the time.

On Mykonos.  What's in the bag, Gabrielle?

Just what I thought!  She let the cat out of the bag!

After a tough day of sightseeing and putting up with Steve's lame jokes, it is nice to repair to the lounge of our cruise ship.  Straight orange juice?  Hardly!  Mango margarita! 

1/19/19 Weekend update

Gabrielle continues to sleep much of the time, with the only change being a shift from the couch to the basement to the bedroom.  When she is in the basement, we have the TV on in the background, but she is far from tracking on anything.  She isn't talking any more beyond saying a single word when we ask her where she wants to go: "upstairs", "bathroom".  However, for some reason, she did refer to the bedside commode we got for her as "Satan's spawn".  I have never heard her refer to anything by those words before!  We were just trying to make it more convenient for her.  At least we tried!
I believe her pain is under better control and we try and stay ahead of it.  She only has a minimal interest in food but we keep trying to offer her things, hoping to inspire her to take a bite of something.  This afternoon, she had one bite of cake that friends brought over...gee, I guess that means that there may be some left for me!
We have had some nice visits from the hospice nurse, Whitney.  She has been helpful in providing suggestions as to how to manage various symptoms.
I also wanted to relate some inspiring words from my brother, Paul, who texted me this week.  He has volunteered for many years (well over 20) at Camp Goodtimes, which is a camp on Vashon Island for kids with cancer.  Don't ask me why, but his camp name is Moose Lips.  He is quite the outgoing, charismatic guy.  He even has a tie dyed suit: jacket and slacks--looks like he is in a time warp from Haight Ashbury (another "old guy" reference).  The other day, he sent me these words:  
"People always say 'they lost their battle with cancer'.  That's BS.  Cancer warriors deal with the unimaginable and yet, your warrior wife has had her head held high and chose long ago to be very open about her cancer roller coaster in order to help others and she obviously has.  What a gift she has been to so many others who are out there struggling.  Tears are good.  Holding them could cause a pipe to break somewhere internally.  Tears are just love's way of overflowing from your body."  
Good, wise words, don't you think?
As I write these words, I am in the living room with the fireplace turned on (so much easier than a "real" wood fire), she is resting peacefully on the couch.  It's peaceful here, so much more peaceful than being in a cold hospital bed somewhere.
Every morning I give Gabrielle a good morning kiss and at night, it's three kisses.  She still puckers up, and at times she even smiles, especially if I have brushed my teeth first.  I am already looking forward to my goodnight kisses.  I'll brush first.  Maybe I'll get an extra kiss if I do.  
Oh, and just in case you are curious what a tie-dyed suit looks like (or one of my brothers for that matter), here it is.  As you can see, he got the good looks, and the good wardrobe.  Oh, and he just told me that you too can have a suit like this for $23.95 online from Walmart!

1/17/19 Slow dwindles

The latest news is that there isn’t much news. It’s just more of the same.  She has been getting more restless, though. She will position herself just so on the couch, lie down and look like she is all set, and then ten minutes later sit up and want to move to the easy chair where she repeats the process. Maybe makes it fifteen minutes, then decides it’s time to go upstairs to stretch out on her bed.  Her interest in food is close to nil, though we try and tempt her with anything she wants.  Yesterday’s “breakfast” consisted of several sips of orange juice and about ten blueberries and raspberries.  Afterwards, out of the blue, she told us she wanted to go for a drive and expressed interest in a Dick’s strawberry milkshake, of all things.  Daniel bundled her up and off they went, only to find out that Dick’s isn’t open at 9:00 AM.  They tried to settle for something at Starbuck’s but she didn’t like it.  

Hospice nurse came by and hooked up a bag of IV fluids to see if that would perk her up.  It didn’t seem to change things much.

It appears we have the pain fairly well under control.  

I think the thing I miss the most about her, at this point, is the fact that she doesn’t talk much.  Certainly, we can’t engage her in any conversation beyond asking her what she needs or wants.  And even then, about half the time, when we do ask, she doesn’t answer back, just looks off into space.  But she will have her moments when she perks up, smiles.  And she is still very pleasant to everyone, and even thanked the home health care nurse after hooking up the IV.  What a trooper!

I also wanted to mention that Gabrielle is not up to seeing visitors at this point.  She appreciates everything that folks have been doing for her (and for us), but has said that she just wants to rest quietly for now.  Thank you for understanding.

And, just for fun, here's a picture I took of her when we went to Zion National Park in 2015.  I think the word "Champions" applies to her as well, don't you?  She champions everything, and is indeed a Champion, with a major capital "C"!

            

1/14/19 Monday update

OK, here’s the short version:  she continues to decline.  She is quite weak and has been sleeping most of the day. Yesterday, she had a few visitors. Her Bible study came by and she even took Communion.  I wasn’t home for that, as I was at church getting the “real deal”.  She has been wanting to go to bed at 4:00 PM, but we have been trying to get her to stay up till 7:00.  Yesterday, we figured, “what the heck?” and let her have her 4:00 PM bedtime.  When she sleeps, she is so peaceful.  

Today, we will be having a home health nurse come by to assess her.  Not a whole lot else on the books today.  

However, speaking of church, I was struck by one of the Bible passages that was read.  Here it is, from Isaiah 43:

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; 

I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

² When you pass through the waters,

I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers, 

they will not sweep over you. 

When you walk through the fire,

you will not be burned; 

the flames will not set you ablaze.

³ For I am the Lord your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior;

I give Egypt for your ransom, 

Cushand Seba in your stead.

⁴ Since you are precious and honored in my sight, 

and because I love you, 

I will give people in exchange for you, 

nations in exchange for your life. 

⁵ Do not be afraid,for I am with you;

            I will bring your children from the east 

            and gather you from the west.

I love the imagery of passing through the waters and not being swept away by the rivers.

And that’s the latest update.  However, if you are curious about what’s going on in Steve’s head, here is what I wrote in my journal this morning (aside: for some reason, I started keeping a journal around age 14 and haven’t been able to kick the habit ever since).

She is declining so rapidly.  Every day I wake up and think that today will be the day she sees Jesus face to face.  It seems even more so the past few days.  She literally slept 23 hours yesterday.  Hospice got started and they have been helpful.  We have a nurse coming today.  I just want her to be at peace.  I don’t know that I agree with that statement, “death, where is they sting?”. It stings oh so much.  I do agree with the second part: “grave, where is they victory?”.  So comforting to know that she will be in paradise and rid of her pain and suffering. The Bible only has images of heaven, metaphors.  The only one who saw heaven for himself was Paul and it was too wonderful to even talk about.  Boy, it’s going to be good!  I sometimes daydream about what it may be like knowing full well that it won’t be anything like that, only better.  I think that I’ll get to scuba dive crystal clear waters but won’t need a scuba tank in an ocean where the animals abound and are at peace.  I imagine riding a massive wave on a surfboard and doing it flawlessly, of camping out under the Northern Lights, of having eternity to read all the books I ever wanted to, to play musical instruments, to sit by cozy hearths with a good community of friends.  Probably heaven won’t be like that, but it will be far better.  Yes, I know.  The big thing in heaven is to see God, Jesus.  But it’s easier for me to imagine the ultimate dive on a coral reef than what God will be like.  The picture of worshipping God forever immediately makes me think of all the saints in white robes, not interacting with one another but looking at God in some giant room filled with light.  Can’t get that picture out of my mind, but I know that’s not heaven—that’s the Moonies. The coral reefs have the stamp of their Creator on them, so I’ll stick with them.  And that’s a great solace for me as I look at losing her, knowing that she has that in front of her.

            I’m clearly already mourning her loss.  She is but a shell of what she was before.  With each day, a small piece of her is gone.  No more walks, long talks, dates.  They’re already history, but I am so thankful for my memories, pictures, and my children in whom her spirit lives on.