The last week of Tami's life was full of so many moments I will cherish forever. Each day when I came home from work, I would go sit with her in her bedroom, and we would talk about each other's day. If she was hungry, I would make her dinner. Her sister had spent each day with her while I was at work and took care of her as well. As each day passed, and she got weaker and weaker, and unable to get out of bed, we all knew the time to say goodbye was drawing near. Every night that week her oldest daughter came over after work to spend time with her. Every day that week her second oldest son spent the day with her. They watched movies together that made them laugh, like Madagascar, or they talked.
On Wednesday, November 17th, when I came home and spent some time with her, I could see the tiredness and the weakness in her eyes. I could tell she was spent, out of energy. She put up one of the most honest, courageous, humble fights I have ever seen. I so desperately wanted her to know that she could stop fighting if she needed to. I grabbed her hand and complimented her on her battle and what an example she has been to all, and then I told her that if she was done fighting, that it was ok, she could go rest and be at peace. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. I told her that we would all make it and be ok; that she would always be in my heart and I would miss her. She then looked at me and told me that I would always be in her heart and she would be waiting for me. Every time I think about moment, I can't help but cry...even as I type it now, I have tears running down my face.
My best friend, my kindred spirit, my sister-in-christ, my roommate, the one I did everything with; the one I conquered the storms of life with; the one who taught me to see the wonderful things that make me, me...the time had come to say goodbye. The morning of Friday, November 19, 2010 I went to work as usual, but was coming back home around 10 to meet with the hospice nurse. When I got home to meet with the nurse, both of Tami's sisters were there, and then shortly after 4 of the 5 kids came over. They had all just planned to spend time with her that day, none of us knew what was coming. The nurse needed to get a verbal consent from Tami to begin hospice services. We went back into her bedroom and the nurse tried to get her attention from the foot of the bed, with no luck. I, then, went to the head of the bed and talked into her ear with my hand on her forehead. She looked up at me and for the first time in the journey saw fear in her eyes. She seemed unaware of her surroundings. I asked her if we could start hospice, and after taking a deep breath, she said yes. The nurse said she couldn't hear it, and needed me to get her to say it again, but she had such a hard time at that point. Her sisters and I her heard it so the nurse went ahead and took the consent. That was the last time Tami opened, her eyes, talked or acknowledged other people's presence with her. I walked out of the room with her sisters and the nurse and started crying. I knew at that moment that the time was nearer than expected. The overwhelming feeling of losing her consumed me...but, paperwork needed to be done and I needed to get back to work for a meeting. As the day progressed, we all pretty much knew she was not going to make it much longer. Tami's folks were called, the son in Arizona was called, other local family members were called. The paperwork for hospice was long and time consuming. When it came to answer questions about extraordinary measures and burial or cremation, everyone was in agreement with no arguments. Tami had suffered enough in this life and if she had the opportunity to meet her Lord and Savior in her own bed, we were committed to giving that to her. At about 4 pm, she took her last breath. We all had the opportunity to say goodbye to her, except for her youngest son. He was the one coming from Arizona who didn't land until 9pm that night. It was the most bittersweet moment I have ever experienced. I was so glad she was no longer suffering, or in pain, or needing any further blood draws, or treatments, etc. But, on the other hand, my best friend was gone. The comfort of family and friends was tremendous that night for all of us. One of the pastor's from the church she worked at came to the house and cried with us, prayed with us, shared words of encouragement with us.
Obviously I did not go back to work as the events of the day unfolded, but the people that I work with were so supportive and understanding and grieving with me. I am so thankful for all of them.
It isn't goodbye, but Until We Meet Again One Sweet Day!!!
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