Vistor at the Wedding

 My baby,  my first born son is getting married today.  I have so many hopes and dreams for him to enjoy.  This is my most favorite picture of us. I cry every time I see it.   I just want to know that they are happy and they have "Happily Ever After" in their future.  Will she love him as I have loved him? Do they understand the depth of the love that a mother has for her child?  Does she know to take good care of my baby?  Tears are streaming down my face as I write this.  Does she "hear" him when he mentions things in passing and file them in her memory's list of "things to do."  Does she think like me?  This is my beloved.  The answer from God to MY prayers.  My God Given Gift.  I believe she does.  Look at these pictures.  There is adoration on their faces.  The tears are of Relief and Gratitude...

So, I prayed that Steve would make it to the wedding.  We all know he didn't.  It was a beautiful sunny July morning.  My son, so handsome all dressed up.  We all worked hard on our part of the wedding festivities planning and executing what we hope will make it a memorable day.  Our dearest family and friends showed up for us, in tribute to our years together or the connection that we have.  It turned out so wonderfully.  Mataja and Mindy and their family did a bang up job on their yard.  My cute Grandma was there.  Look at us!


As the day began to unfold, I began with myself.  I got up, I got a cup of coffee.  I got myself ready first.  Because I knew that if I didn't take this opportunity, I would get busy and end up feeling rushed and evil.  As the twenty people that slept over began to wake, time began to slip in 15 minute increments.  Building into a frantic pace with pressure to get out the door and  "pull it off" because, after all, it is all about presentation :)   As me and two sons were walking to the car with the two crystal vases I borrowed from my mother, and the two I had made for the head table, I saw my new neighbor out in his yard.  I thought about saying Hello but knew I didn't have time for any conversation.  I was thinking that I would wave as I sat down in the car to be friendly.  I was putting something in the trunk when I heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking against the concrete.  My mothers crystal flashed through my mind.  I slammed the truck and just lost it (I am embarrassed to say) lost it completely.  Alexander James Maughan!  Fuck!  Just Fuck!  Thinking he had dropped it.  I came around the car to see water and blue glass marbles and glass all over the ground.    He was looking at me with the deer caught in the headlights look holding one vase and one set of flowers by the neck of the vase that had broken.  The whole bottom had broken out.   "Fuck!  Get in the fucking car" I screamed.  I mentally noted they were the glass vases for the head table and thanked God for the luck.   Both boys were trying to get into the car quickly but the flowers and vases they was carrying  were too tall.  They didn't want to witness me lose control like that and was trying so hard. Everyone rushed to Alex's defense that the bottom had broken. Once we were backing out of the driveway, I thought "welcome to the neighborhood!"  That was a embarrassing public display!  We got going down the road and I reached up and moved the rear view mirror to see his face.  I could see his eyes were red and he was upset.  I apologized.  It was not his fault that the bottom broke out like that.  The neck was intact.  I reached into my center console and pulled out my prescription of Xanax.  I obviously needed it. Mental note to drink champagne when I got there to "kick" it in. As I drive, I notice that out of all the signs we put up the night before, I only see two?  I made a dozen.  'Text your brother and ask him how many signs he put up" I told Alex.  I get on the phone with my brother and tell him to pick up more balloons and poster board and to go behind and put up more signs.  Our original venue had been flooded out and we had to change 48 hours ago.  I knew we needed and extraordinary amount of signs to lead the people from one venue to the other.  He and his son were in their street clothes to do this.  But, they had left their nice clothes back at my house. 

There are so many details, the flowers, the decorations, the tables, the griddles and the fruit and FOOD.   It was quickly apparent that there wasn't enough hands to get it all done and some people didn't show that were supposed to.  So, my friends showed up early and they jumped in and it took an all hands on deck approach (under my sisters direction) to be prepared.  I couldn't have done it without them.  I was being told to "Go get on my dress.  Go get ready."  At twenty minutes to ten, we went to the ceremony.  My son comes out to meet us. His smile is so big.  He has this child like excitement and this sparkle in his eyes.  I am excited for him.  People are arriving and I kept looking around for the people I knew were helping on my end.  I told Aaron we were trying to get up more signs and that people weren't there that had said they would be. It became clear that we couldn't wait any longer.  The ceremony began without some "would be witnesses.  I was sad about that.  They missed it because they were helping my son.  I thanked them in a small prayer asking God to bless them for doing it for me (and missing the main event) so I could see this moment in my sons life.


After the short commitment and ring ceremony, we posed for pictures and people gravitated to the park for the Wedding Brunch.

 

 I don't think anything could have gone better.  There is nothing like good old fashioned hospitality.  It was great.  We spent the few hours just hanging out and bullshitting.  It was a good day.  Slowly, they started drifting off until we were almost alone.  We cleaned up the park and took down the decorations, and packed everything back into the trailer to go home.  We got one load finished when my phone rang and my oldest friend had arrived from the south.  I told her I would come right back.  We still had the camp trailer to pick up.  I asked Jeff if he would drop me off at the outdoor reception while he went back to my house dropped the trailer and picked up the kids.  He did.  It was nice visiting.  My brother pulls up with his window down,  you could hear the official speaking from the National Weather Service with an imminent warning. "Winds in excess of 45 miles per hour with nickle sized hail with dangerous ground to air lighting moving towards the south end of the valley.  Take shelter in a sturdy structure."  <sigh>  What could we do? Nothing.  The show must go on regardless.  As the winds of change blew in, the clouds were building.  Lighting flashed and you could count "one thousand one" before you heard the thunder that shook the ground.  I was talking with my husbands Grandmother when I looked over her shoulder to see the wind was going to knock over the pictures that were on easels being used to help decorate the yard.  "Excuse me" I said cutting off his uncles story as I jumped up to save the pictures.  My friend and fellow photographer, Luwana took this picture of one of the decorations as the micro burst hit.

 The skies opened up with a clap of thunder and it poured and it rained hard.  In Native beliefs, there is mother earth and grandfather sky.  He touches her with his lightning bolts only on the parts of her body where it needs to be.  They are Natures equivalent of the Lovers.  Fitting wouldn't you say?  People were scattering and I was grabbing the pictures.  One had fallen and hit the cake.  I went in side to wipe the frame down and leave them out of the weather.  When I finished, I went outside to look for Grandma.  There was sheets of rain and I walked outside to find her.  Grandma has cancer and she is old and fragile.  I wanted to make sure that she was under cover and I wanted to seat her in the house.  She had vanished.  I walked up and down the street, straining in vain to see inside cars to see if she made it into one and was leaving.  I didn't get to say goodbye.  It wasn't my house and Jeff had dropped me off so I didn't even have my car.  I had no umbrella.  The rain didn't matter as much as Grandma.  I asked my son, "have you seen her?"  No.  I had to assume she left.  As mentioned, she is old and doesn't own a cell phone.  I would simply have to wait and see.  Then I hear "Grandma is here" and I look over to see my grandma.  We talked under the awning.  I was already drenched and she was dressed for the weather.  We took some pictures together to mark this now unique occasion.   Afterwards, as I walked her to her car when she felt ready to go,  she grabbed my arm and said "Cindy, I really feel like Steve is here with us."  I considered "do I feel him?"  I couldn't really feel.  "I pray you are right, Grandma.  I really wanted him to be here."  She kissed me and she left.  What was left of the evening sun had come out about an hour into the reception.  We went on to see the kids off on to their honeymoon.  It was a good day with a happy ending.  The next day, I was unloading the pictures and I saw this:

There are two orbs.  One on Aarons forehead and one by Grandma. Her words "I think Steve is here, I can feel his spirit and he would have loved this" echoed in my mind.  I looked at the other pictures because I thought to myself "rain?"  These didn't show in any other of the thirteen successive pictures of this scene.  Hmmmm.  Makes you wonder.  "Is that Steve next to her?"  Who is with Aaron?  Is it the spirit of my father?  It was his birthday today....

The next day, I email this picture to my friend Eric in Las Vegas that was Steve's best friend.  We were texting back and forth.  Wow! Pretty clear. Wonder if?  all the while talking about how much I wanted him there.  Was this just wishful thinking?   Then we began talking about his graveside service in August.  His phone rang and it was and 800 number that he didn't know.  He answered it.  The voice said "This call is for Steven Veatch.   If you are Steven Veatch, press one..."

I felt an electricity run through my body knowing it was a brush with the supernatural.

I think it was an omen.

Steve came home today

My Fuller family brought Steves ashes to me today.  They had gone to Betty's and picked him up last night and drove him from Las Vegas.  I had no idea the emotions I would feel when I woke up this morning.  When you know a person for decades.  It is just intense.  I was going to put the memorial on here, but, had to ask for help transcribing it.  I haven't even read this blog.  I just can't. I am having a hard time articulating what it is that I am feeling.  It's like a am speechless.  I simply don't know what to say. 


 It's the "take your breath away" type of pain.  An ache from so deep inside my chest. The tears come like waves on the ocean.  If you have ever sat on the shore and  watched, there are generally waves, waves, waves, BIG one.  Waves, waves, waves, BIG one. 

When Steve was alive and I thought he had more time, I asked him to come and spend my birthday with me.  Then, he could stay for a couple weeks and go to Aaron and Taja's Wedding.  My birthday is Monday.  I just called my Grandmother and asked her if I could keep him here until my birthday.  She said I could keep him until I am ready to bring him in.  I just love her.  She sent me this birthday card that made me cry, telling me how much she loved me and how she wanted to keep close.  What am I going to do when it is her?  She is shook up because in the last month she has cared for a buried her son and then flew 48 hours on an Israel - Holy Land trip. She sounded better today than when I saw her last weekend.  I am grateful for her health. 

I Woke Up in Las Vegas

We pulled into Dave and Tammy's home in the middle of the night.  I called for Koda, their Rottwheiler, as soon as I walked through the door.  For just a second, he didn't recognize my voice and didn't move a muscle and wasn't close enough to smell me.  This dog is fed raw meat and has had me pinned before.  In that second I wondered to myself if he were going to tackle me on the ceramic tiles in the front entry.  Then, recognition.  He loved on me like I was his long lost sweetheart.  I've only been gone one week.  My chickens came through the front door with their arms full from unloading their things from the car. He was so happy and wiggly to see them again. Dogs say "Hi" with a full body workout.  All 130 lbs of him can knock you down and when he steps on your feet, you feel it! He had to get a good smell of everyone.  Jeff was exhausted.  He had driven the entire way (500 miles) by himself. (Yes, I did listen to that song on the way down...Oh I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk 500 more.  Just to be the man who walked  a thousand miles to fall down at your door  :)

Jeff feels very present for me.  He is the first one with a hug (or to help me fight computers) to try to take the stress off my shoulders.  He has been so patient with me.  Yesterday, after Alex's doctors appt, we picked up dinner and the girls (Sarah brought a friend).  I thought to check on my friend via quick text.  Deb replied that her dog, Phoebe, (I think she was a Pug) had to be put down.  Jeff drove me over to hug her before we went home.  All animal lovers across the land understand that animals are a part of our lives and know there is a communication and understanding that we share with them.  So?  Your baby is mute, you still can understand the needs and feel the affection.  You care for them as you would a child for up to 15 years. My friends, Luwanna and Lori, both lost their dogs on the same day just a few weeks back.  They know what I am saying is true. To lose one is like losing your human teenager.  You appreciate each thing that was theirs and fun characteristics and personalities. My heart is with her.  I too am grieving.  Maybe God put us in each others lives to help each other through...  My Grandma calls it " Ministering Angels."

My Fuller family was up for coffee this morning.  We haven't seen each other since I left that last morning. We began to talk and then the tears began to flow.

I am making a promise to myself that I am going to focus on the life in his years.  But, to walk into his home today.....

Dan tells me  " You got this.  Life moves forward.  This world is only a waypoint...a short glitch in the precession of life."  That's a good one Dan.  That's why it's here in my blog.  It's todays meditation.  :) As I told him....here we go!

Packing up

Working on gathering all the pictures and burning my DVD. Starting another load of laundry so we can leave tonight.  I think once I am back in Vegas, it is going to hit me hard.  I am so deep and emotional anyway that I am not sure what to do with all this.  Melissa Etheridge plays on crooning "This is not Goodbye."

The Lock

Betty asked the neighbor to come and cut the lock off the wrought iron gate leading down the side of the house. She told him we would need to open the gates on Saturday for the reception.  He asked her where the keys were and she gave them to him all the while stating they didn't work.  The neighbor slid the key into the keyhole and smooth as butter, click!  The lock opened.

It just seemed as if something kept us from opening the lock that day so Steve would see his home for the last time as they wheeled his stretcher out the door.

Planning a Memorial

It's hard.  There are so many details you have to look after.  You need to decide if you want a service and where will that be held?  How much will they charge you for it? Do you want a minister? Or, will your family take care of it?  Do you want a program?  What are the cost associated with that? Music? Thank you Betty for having paid in advance for his cremation.  If not, you'd have questions such as, burial or cremation?  Coffin?  Wood or Aluminum? Burial vaults and Headstones.  Do you want a hearse and limos?  Professional services (such as embalming and someone to guide the vistors to their chairs and stand off to the side witnessing the event).  It's gonna cost you.  Every decision you make has a cost associated with it.  Obituary is pay by the inch.   Just everything! It feels like vultures picking meat of bones. 

It's important to gather the pictures and scan them in.  Make time and spend it creating the DVD.  Please let people take pictures of you even if you don't like it.  Because when it all gets reduced down, you end up with about a hundred pictures that is the sum of your life.  You don't want a bunch of crappy ones.  Smile! Enjoy the moment.  Not just posed cheesy ones but pictures cooking dinner and living your daily lives.  Then, when it's your turn to pass on the person that is doing it for you has a variety to choose from.  So many people want to talk at Steves.  He has seven people that are on the program.  Who will want to talk at mine?

He is still with me...

New development:  My stereo on my computer just turned up the volume by itself.  What is it playing you may ask?

She talks to Angels....Black crows.

The Miracle Continues

I wonder if God is talking to me.  Today I found a link to Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing.  I ask myself should I publish this blog?

Then, Dan sends me a couple of portions of the recordings he took.  It really sounds like someone is there and said Cindy.  We need a do over.

Soul Food

I had asked Steve if he would come and see me.  He said he would if he could.  I believe, with all of my heart, I know there is another side to this world.  Today is Saturday and my friends Kathy, Jay, Deb and Dan came to make me some dinner. They all arrived at my home their arms heavy with grocery bags.  They all got busy cooking,  fixing, cutting and generally taking over my kitchen insisting I do nothing.  Dan cooked us burgers on the grill, we had salads and fresh fruit of strawberries and watermelon. Deb made banana pudding that was exquisite :) My sister, Debbie came to be with me and let me cry when needed.  My mom came to hug me (which was unexpected).  My son came to love me and he hugged me tight.  Laughter through tears is one of my favorite emotions.

Josh was so fun!  He got to ride on the four wheelers with Alex and Kyle.  He was the happiest camper.

Everyone was kinda scattered about and Jeff and I were with Dan in the kitchen.  I was telling Dan how I asked this of Steve and said the words "I just need to have some sign" and what sounded like the timer on my stove went off three times.   God as my witness!

Dan and I had thought we would take some pictures and make some recordings to see we could hear anymore. It didn't turn out like I thought it would. Most of the night was loud, music played, I drank my sisters signature drink and I hugged alot. It did calm down later but Deb had enough movement and it was time for her to lay in her own bed. I hope we get to do it again soon.  I am really interested in knowing what Dan heard (if anything).

Friday

6:40 am my daughter was told I had come home in the night.  She ran in my room waking me up and folded into my arms.  I kissed her and held her for a few moments.  She then started asking me about how to put videos on discs because she had an assignment to turn in.  My mommy guilt for being gone so long kicked in and I asked her if she wanted me to show her.  I got up and headed towards my office. Jeff brought me a cup of coffee fixed just the way I like it and I started the disk.  My cell phone began to ring and my blood went cold.

The name on the caller ID?  Steve Veatch
Cindy?  Betty inquired and my heart began to hurt.  "He's gone" she said.  "Our Steve is gone." I was trying to hold myself and I bent over at the feeling in my stomach and I felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs.  "I tried to call your Grandma but she didn't answer.  I am going to call her back now.  NO!  Don't call her Betty (I pleaded as I got on my clothes).  I'll go wake her up.   Please don't tell her on the phone."  I kissed my husband and walked out the door.

I went to Grandmas neighbor and got her key.  I let myself into our old back door and walked through the washroom.  As I entered the doorway, Grandma said "thank you for calling and put down the phone"  I could see by her face it was the Hospice.  She knew.  Her baby was dead.


My grandmother aged that day.  Parents everywhere understand you should not have to bury your child. 
I spent the morning with her making calls and arrangements and writing his obituary.

Steven Carl Veatch Obituary

LAS VEGAS NEVADA--Steven Carl Veatch, 48, Las Vegas Nevada, formerly of Logan, passed away at dawn on Friday May 20, 2011 in Las Vegas of complications due to cancer.  He was born on November 17, 1962 in Pocotello, Idaho to Frank and Patricia Veatch.  Steve was raised in Logan attending Logan schools, graduating from Logan High and Hollywood School of Cosmetology.  He had some good, close friends in the Logan area, Eric, Mike, Doug, Don, Troi, Judd, Jared and Suebear.  He worked at the old old Smiths Food King at the lunch counter (how old is THAT memory) and enjoyed serving his “regular” coffee drinkers. He thought they were a hoot.  When he worked at Whispers Floral, his creativity in his flower arrangements was always inspiring and he really put his heart in it to give joy and delight to the recipients.  He performed in the Pickleville Playhouse at Bear Lake for two summers with his sister, Ann and at the Festival of the American West performances at the Spectrum.

He left the area and moved to Las Vegas where he continued to live, laugh, and love for the next 25 years living with his best friend, Betty Clark.  He worked in the Golden Nugget casino until his illnesses forced his retirement.  He was a surrogate father figure to Betty’s sons, Rashard(Teangela), Mikie, and Eskin.  He went on to be “Mr. Mom” to seven beautiful and wonderful children from the time they were newborn babies, Sa,lina, Allysa, Dynelle, Dominque, Marquise, Zion, and Aliyah.  One of his great joys was cooking and creating new dishes.  We often told him he could be a professional chef but, he said that would ruin the joy of cooking.  He always went the extra mile and was a steady source of support to all who knew him.  He loved to laugh and spent many hours, days (months & years) fixing up the home that he and Betty shared.  He was a beautiful soul.  How do you condense someone’s life into these small sentences?  How do you give enough honor? Today our hearts are breaking.  We love him so.

He enjoyed a special relationship with his Niece, Cindy.  Over the years, they spent countless hours together listening to music, talking, drinking cocktails and “Monster” cooking. They laughed together and cried together.  It was a special connection that cannot be replaced or replicated.  

He is survived by his mother, Patricia Veatch.  His brothers, Craig Nielsen, Bob (Gay)Nielsen, Tab (Carolyn) Nielsen, and Frank (Kay)Veatch and his sister, Nancy Ann Nielsen.  Betty Clark, her sons, Rashard Miller, Mikie (Jocolyn) Woods and Eskin Edward and their babies, Cindy (Jeff)Maughan, friends Eric Peterson & Larry. His “babies” (dogs) Natasha and Maxine. He was loved by numerous Aunts Uncles cousins nieces and nephews.   He was preceded in death by his dad, Frank, Sr. and his beloved friend, Paul.  A graveside service to bury his ashes will be performed June 17 2011 when his family can gather to honor his life.  God rest his soul.

The Road Home

As we traveled home that evening, the rain poured down on us and the light gave way to the darkness.  Grandma and I talked part of the way.  We discussed everyone writing letters to him and having a party on the patio at Betty's house.  We wanted to work on that so Steve could enjoy the party they always throw for your funeral.  Then, we both became lost in our own thoughts as the desert passed by.  She had brought a book on CD we listened to but I found my mind wandering.  At 1:30 am as we came through Sardine canyon that opens into our home, Cache Valley, I suggested we call the hospice to see how Steves evening was.  The nurse stated flatly "He hasn't spoken to me my entire shift and he didn't take his antibiotic meds orally."  I asked what his vital signs were and she said they only took them once a day in the morning.  Grandma was troubled and I asked if she could get her doctors appt moved up.  I thought we should get back there asap.  I could leave Sunday morning.  She said she would call again in the morning and see how he did through the night.  She said she was almost sorry she had called.  I took her bags into the house and went home to surprise my husband. 

I had told him I wasn't coming home because Steve was so sick.  Then, when grandma said she wanted to go home, I called him and told him I was calling him while I was "taking Grandma home"  he didn't know which home I was talking about.  I snuck in, leaving all my stuff in the car.   What was there would keep until tomorrow.  Jeff was sleeping on the couch, and my cat was so excited to see me "meow, meow, meow, meow meow, meow, meow" following me all over the house. I walked through the living room and into my bedroom to find a gown my cat hot on my trail.  All the coffees had me needing the restroom quick.  I hoped my flushing didn't wake Jeff.  It didn't.   I grabbed his hand as I have done so often in the 21 years, he took a double take when understanding crossed his face.  "What are you doing here?" he asked a smile crossing his face.  "I'm just coming to say Hi" I said as I pulled him up and walked into our room and climbed into my massive canopy log bed.  We snuggled in our spoon, we've always fit perfectly together, and it felt good to close my eyes.  The two Starbucks and a truck stop cappuccino continued to keep me awake so I talked to him and told him of the weight on my shoulders. 

Finally, I drifted off to sleep.

Thursday May 19th 7 am

Pulling up my big girl panties.  Loading up my stuff and heading over to Steves.  My nerves are a little shaken, but, I am glad a got a little rest.  God bless us today.

May 19 2011 9 am

God Bless today.  As I turned the corner onto Lindon Avenue, Steve and Betty's home came into view.  Betty was standing outside in her jammies and as I scanned her face I saw the tears and the pain come into focus.  I held up my hands in question and she had one hand covering her mouth and the other held out in the air.  I jumped out of the car and ran in the house.  I threw my jacket and keys towards the couch and rounded the corner making a B line to his room.  As I rounded the corner Steve was walking determidly towards the door facing me.  He had wrapped in this thin arms his sheets, pads and two pillows.  I asked "where are you going?"  "I am going to the washer." he was out of breath and seemed like a fall risk too I began leaning him towards the couch arm by the door. Wait here and let me get your cane.  He said okay and thrust the soiled laundry in my arms and told me "take these."  I told him to wait and I ran the dirty laundry in and Betty opened a garbage bag to put them in.  I grabbed a clorox cleanup sheet and began wiping my hands and arms as I briskly walked back through the dining room.  I found him trying to climb the stair by himself and I asked "I help you up this stair?"  but really I was grabbing his hands to the elbow to pull him up.  He was agitated.  My heart was pounding and my mind was racing.  He was determined to get into that kitchen and I wasn't going to argue with him.  His clothes were wet but I thought to get him calmed down I would walk him over and sit him in his chair and handed him a cigarette.  He put it in his mouth and I held the yellow bic to light it.  I set the lighter on the lacy tablecloth and asked him if he wanted coffee as if it were any other day.  He said he did and I made myself busy fixing him his last cup in his clear glass Starbucks mug.  He was shaking but that determined look was still on his face as if to say "I can hold myself up.  I am a Man."  as he took it from from me and I worried he was going to spill it on him.  "It's hot" I remind him.  I told him he was shaky because his sugar was low and that I thought he needed to have a protein shake. I lied, because I knew better and it had nothing to do with sugar. I think God will forgive me that lie because I didn't want to alarm him. I asked him what flavor of ice cream he wanted and he wanted Chocolate.  I poured the remainder of the strawberries we had and began to put a whole banana into the blender.  Grandma had returned to the kitchen and was sitting in the chair across from Steve.  She was watching me and reminded me he only liked half a banana so I popped half into my mouth.  I added blueberries, black berries, raspberries with chocolate ice cream.  I blended them together and poured a tall glass for Steve.  I told him he would feel better soon.  He set his cigarette in the ashtray.  I told him to enjoy it because Jenifer was coming to give him a shower.  Showers wore him out and I could see he was already exhausted and laboring for breath.  He did seem to calm as he drank his shake.

I had heard the doorbell while fixing the shake. Grandma had gone to answer it and I heard Jenifer's voice.  She had showed up with her supervisor who was there to evaluate her performance for her yearly review.  Grandma and Betty had been talking to them and I left Steve smoking to join them.  Jen introduced us and she went to Steves side. 

She bantered back and forth him and told him she would help him to the shower to get him cleaned up.  Betty had gathered up the clean shorts and shirt for him, a clean towel, washcloth and Depends and waited as Jen helped him though small walkway between the dryer and freezer that led to the bathroom.  He used whatever was available to hold himself as he went.  They successfully made it through the doorway and sat him on his shower chair.  They swung the door halfway closed and began his shower.

While Steve was occupied, the four women gathered and began to disucuss at length the challenges we each saw, heads bobbing up and down in agreement.  We asked if they could bring us a four footed cane to assist him.  It was obvious he was weakening.  She agreed and began taking notes.  As the conversation continued and the list grew longer, the gravity of the situation washed over us like a tital wave.  It became more and more apparent that we felt he needed professionals.  The supervisor began dialing her phone leaving messages for the case manager and the nurse. She told us they would return the call and while we waited, she returned to her observations of Jen.  Betty excused herself for a quick shower to prepare herself for the day. 

I heard them opening the door leading to the bathroom. Again they were stopped in the space between the dryer and the furance.  I walked towards them to offer what assistance I could.  Steve was saying "I need to sit down on the garbage"  The nurse inquired if it would hold him and I pulled it out for him and assured her it would.  It was a nice stainless steel one.  We sat him there and told him it was fine for him to catch his breath.  So he rested there for just a couple of minutes, I holding him up his hands in mine.  "Can you make it the last eight feet Steve?"  He nodded his head and we got on each side of him to assist him to his chair.  Every smoker knows that smoking relaxes you. Using that knowledge, I handed him another cigarette and he put it into his mouth and I lit his cigarette to calm him.  I noticed the paper before the tobacco on his cigarette had gone out before without actually lighting (you smokers would know what I was talking about). But, I didn't want to relight it because I didn't want him to burn himself.  He didn't notice and "smoked" his cigarette in gesture and I just let him believe.  The nurses joined us and we began to talk about his care.  We agreed he should go to the incare facility. He complained he was in pain and we gave him a dose of morphine to ease the edge.  We wondered when they would call back. The four women weighing the options. Finally, the phone rang and it was the facility.  We couldn't help to hear  the conversation and knew they were telling my Grandma that he didn't meet the criteria.  The supervisor held her hand out to receive the receiver in the "give that to me" gesture.  She insisted that Steve was going and worked out all the details.  They would be here in an hour.  As the nurses were leaving  Betty came in the other room fresh from her shower.  She and Grandma was walked them to the door thanking them for their visit.  Their conversation ended and they shut and bolted the security door. 

We small talked with and around him.  He injected himself into the conversation, but, his words and thoughts were disjointed as he rocked back and forth his body curling into the fetal position.  I rubbed his back slowly willing my energy through my hand and encouraged him to sit up to get a bigger breath into his lungs praying for lucidity.  The more interesting conversation was flashing in the womens eyes as took big breaths into our lungs looking at each other communicating at that deep level.  Wow.  Where are we?   His body was with us, but, clearly the infection was taking over his mind.  As were talking quietly, the doorbell rang again.  Betty went to the security door and I heard a male voice.  Betty started turning the bolt locks and reached out the door and took the piece of paper being offered to her.  God Bless you she said as she relocked the door and the man walked away past the window the way that he came. She handed me the pamphlet and I read "You Can Know You Are Going to Heaven"  God is talking clearly again.

Hello! hello? a deep male voice was heard and I walked towards the dog to see a well dressed black man and recognized the Palms Mortuary was standing at the door and Steves dogs, Natasha and Maxine, came quickly to smell him as I let him in the house.  I introduced my Grandmother a I left them to discuss their business and went to talk to Steve. 

Natasha and Maxine came and nuzzled his hand and layed their heads in his lap and listened to their Master say their names and rub them behind their ears.  Again, I heard the door shut as Tim the mortician left.  She had a pamphlet he had left her placed on the coffee table.  She returned to the kitchen to her spot next to her son.



May 19 2011 noon

Grandma always sits with her hand over her mouth.  I took this picture of her and she said "oh, that's funny, my mother used to always do that and I always try to remind myself not to."  She can't help the concern and worry that is on her mind.  This is as real as it gets.  There is nothing more intense than death.  You have to walk someone to their grave in honor.  It takes complete and utter focus. 

We try to keep the conversation light and normal feeling.  But, deep down inside, we knew this was not normal.  We could feel the shift.  The wind was blowing and we could hear the wind chimes.  He started to push himself up on his cane. He headed through the living room and insisted on walking outside to take in the view.  I walked outside with him and we sat on the chairs on the front porch.  His blue eyes looking around and looked like he was soaking up the details. 

In this picture, he looks like he waiting for something as he watches the street.

 He began looking for a specific set of wind chimes.  I asked him if they were on the other side of the car. 
"Wind chimes are my favorite" I told him.  "You've told me that like 100 times" he said.  "Well, now I have told you 101" I replied.  "We have that in common" he answered  He got up leaning heavily on his cane and used the truck as support.

I can hear them, he said, ding ding ding. Ding, ding, ding.  The ones that were hanging, he said, were not the ones he could hear.  I suggested maybe they were outside his window in the back of the house.  He said they weren't and went back to sit down. I stayed outside with him saying nothing.  His color was getting more ashen and the spot on his shirt was getting larger where the bag again was leaking.  "Steve, let's go change your shirt before the transport get's here."  He allowed me to help him back into the house.  He stopped in the kitchen at his chair and I continued back to his room.  Steve had stripped his bed but Betty and I cleaned his bed and put fresh white linens and pads on the bed.  Two of his pillows were soiled and we simply threw them away while adding them to our mental shopping list.  Opening his drawer, I found a clean shirt and turned to leave the room to go to Steve and he was right behind me and it gave me a start.  He was trying to get to his bed (and he wasn't using his cane) and he couldn't go any further.  Usually he walked around the bed and slept on the left side.  His strength gave out and he fell onto the bottom of the bed on the right side.  I told him he was fine where he was and to just rest before he scooted around to end up on top of the pads.  The phone was ringing.   My grandmother walked the phone back to Steve's room and she placed it on speaker. His nurse, Nicki, was going to walk us through changing the urosomy bag.  I put on my gloves on and I lifted his shirt to look underneath.  I finished pulling the bag completely off and was trying to follow directions.  She made up her mind and just told us to cover him with a towel and she was going to come over.  I held his head in my lap and stroked his head while we waited.

He told me his dad was there with a beer list.  "Order up then Steve" I answered.

Nicki helped us with a new bag and I was watching carefully how to do it so I could do it by myself next time.  She helped get him cleaned and changed again before the transport arrived.  The infection was oozing from his body in newly opened wounds. I was glad that he was going in.  They needed to give him IV antibiotics or shots to get that under control or he wouldn't make it.   She checked his vitals 104/61 (not so bad) and his pulse was a little high but not real far out of whack.  She was glad he was going in because he needed it.  He was exhausted after being changed for the third time today.  His pain was high and it was time again to give him more morphine. The doorbell rang.

The transport was here.  They came through the house and looked at the different accesses, they realized the easiest way was to go right out his door and walk the sidewalk next to the house and across the front lawn to the van.  Betty went to get the keys. When she returned she began working the lock.  It was obvious she was having issues with it.  So, one of the men walked over and said "let me try."  He continued to shake the lock and twist the key so hard he thought the key might break.  "We'll have to take him through the house," he said.  I walked over and said I would mess it while they brought the stretcher in.  I couldn't get the lock to budge and gave up.  They brought in the yellow stretcher and took it back to his room.  They lifted him with a sheet and buckled him securely onto the gurney.  They wheeled him out through the kitchen.  They loaded him like they had for hundreds of other patients.  We all pulled into traffic.  Betty and I followed the white van closely to the hospice.  As they pulled him out of the back of the transport, I asked him "How are ya doing there, Steve?"  "I'm alright" he said.  "Watch your elbows Mr. Veatch." said the deep voice of the black man.  Steve crossed his arms across his chest like they would in your coffin if you lived in the pioneer days.  As I walked through the front doors, I heard the receptionist telling the transport his room was D1 and we continued walking straight to it.  The nurse stopped us at the station and said to sit in their waiting area while they got him settled.

Grandma hadn't eaten all day so I thought it was a good time to feed her.  They had a little cafe down the hall that we could grab a sandwich and a drink. I am a bad girl and I bought me a Dr. Pepper.  For the most part, I have quit drinking pop.  However, today I needed more caffeine to keep pace with today.  When the nurse said he was settled, we went back to his room.  The nurse practitioner was assessing him when we returned to the room.  She had started a Delontin (I know I am spelling that wrong but it's the one that is a synthetic morphine) drip complete with a "joy buzzer" for self administered pain medication.  She explained to us before she left.   "I need to use the restroom" he insisted.  Agitated and taking the blankets off him and trying to pull himself up on the side rails.  The nurses had placed a bright blue mat (like we used to have in kindergarten for our nap times or a tumbling) on the floor next to his bed.  Apparently they've been through this before that the patient tries to get out of their beds without assistance in some way trying to confirm they can still do it themselves.  We called the nurses back into his room and they walked right on top of the mat as they came to walk him to the restroom and assist him with his needs.  When they walked out, we walked in to speak to him but he was already asleep.  We sat in chairs reading magazines and I pulled out my laptop to work.  Grandma finally said, "Okay, let's go home.  He is deeply sleeping and he is so exhausted, we should go.  Let him stay here and get his symptoms under control and we'll come back." I felt trepidation but I am here for her every need. In God we trust.  So, I got up to kiss him and I returned to his bed side and again held his head to my chest and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him on his head. " I love you so much Stevie."  His mother walked up behind me and I moved for her to reach him.  "I love you, Son."

"I love you too" he responded with much effort.  I was walking and looking through the window and he was leaning up to get a good look at us. I held up my hand and he held up his to say "see ya later."

That is my last memory of Steve.

Four directions

So, the way I heard it was that the four directions represented East: Spiritual Health. South: Physical Health. West: Emotional Health and North: Mental Health.  To be a balanced person, you needed to balance all those parts of yourself.  I smoke to them all.  I pray to them all.  I talk to them all.  So why does this shit keep happening to me? 

I am so tired.  So, dead dog tired.  Death taxes all of these.  Death makes you question your spiritual health.  What do I believe and why do I believe it?  Just to set the record straight, I believe in the after life.  I believe that there are legions of angels out there.  I believe in Heaven and I believe in Hell.  I believe that we will be judged on how we treated people.  I believe that we will relive our lives (in the blink of an eye) except instead of feeling what we felt, we felt how we made other people feel.  We get to feel what we put out into the world.  I need to focus on the positive.  I thought that if we treated other people how we wanted to be treated that it will work out.  God would watch over us.

Death taxes our physical health.  I am running 500 miles back and forth to spend precious time with Steve.  To help him prepare.  To spend minutes bringing laughter and sunshine if I can.  To take care of his physical needs.  I make him food.  I rub cream on his hives.  I bring his medication  or a drink of water.  I lie in the bed beside him and just talk to him.  Is this good enough?  What more can I do?

Death taxes our emotional health.  It forces us to places "we don't talk about at parties."  Maybe I am crazy. There are minutes I feel crazy.  Absolutely certifiable.

Death taxes our Mental health.  I am not sure tonight if I know what mental health is.

I feel wobbly and out of sorts.  I feel broken.  I am tired.  Dead dog tired.

I'm not Ready

I don't know what to think about how the day went today.  Steve woke me up at 3:30 am.  He was wet from his chest down.  He had had been sleeping for 9 hours and his urosomy bag had leaked everywhere and I could smell his diaper.  He was literally dripping everywhere he walked.  He came and sat on the couch [mental note: wipe the couch with bleach wipe to kill the virus before anyone touches it and mop the floors].  I talked to him briefly and grabbed the mop and washed with bleach water the path I was on as I walked back to his room and got him dry clothing.  I walked back into the living room.  "Steve, lift your arms, we need to change you."  He complied and I changed his shirt.  I handed him the disposable wipes and a new Depends and a clean pair of shorts.  "Go get yourself cleaned up" I told him.  He did as directed and I continued spraying, bleaching, wiping and mopping.  What I didn't realize is that he had gone back to his bedroom instead of the bathroom.   When he walked out in clean clothes, I saw where he came from.  I sat him in his chair and went back to mop his room.  When I got there I saw the bed needed to be changed again.  So, I put on my gloves and got the clean sheet and under pad and set about to do the work quickly before he came in.  I didn't want him embarrassed to see me cleaning up after him.  He is a man [after all] and who among us would want someone else cleaning up after us?  How would it make us feel to know that we had to have someone change our beds?  He won't let me help him personally.  That's too much.  But, we have to keep cleaning because he has the virus and it is imperative to kill the virus.  We have to be aware of everything he has touched.  We have to be vigilant to protect ourselves and our families.  I finished without him catching me.  This whole process had taken an hour.  It was now 4:30 am and I told him I thought we should try to lay down again.  Just rest until the others woke up for coffee and breakfast.  Today he has a doctors appointment.  His CNA, Jennifer and his RN Nicki would be here early and they always wore him out.  He took a ml of Morphine and laid down. 

I laid down on the couch and it took me another hour of reading a magazine to finally set it aside and close my eyes.  He woke me again at 6:30.  He was sitting in his chair and messing with his cigarette box.  I looked over and he was folding a card around it and then smoothing it back out.  Getting the remaining three cigarettes out and laying them side by side on the table.  He walked over to the drawer and pulled out five candle numbers.  He laid them on the table.  I asked what he was doing and he proceeded to tell me a story.  It was obvious by the story and the questions he was asking that he was confused.  I wondered to myself if he was over-medicated.  But, as I looked at his med diary, I could see it had been 7 1/2 hrs since he had anything. That couldn't have been it.  I wonder if the end is drawing near and if the cancer has hit his brain.  I fixed him some instant coffee in his Starbucks mug and he lit a cigarette and  inhaled it deeply and set it in his favorite cobalt blue glass ashtray Eric had given him.  He continued to mess this the cigarettes he had lined up on the table.  He picked up an unlit cigarette and put it in his mouth.  He reached for his bright yellow lighter and I said "don't light that."  He asked me why? I reminded him that he already had one in the tray.  He said he was looking for it and set the unlit one down again. 

Once he finished that smoke, I had noticed again, he was wet and his bag was coming off.  I told him he would have to go and change again.  This time he went to the bathroom and Grandma and Betty woke up.  "Good Morning" they said to me with smiles on their faces.  Not a very good morning and I hated to tell them but knew I had to.  Their smiles faded and concern crossed their weathered faces.  We are going to the doctor today.  Maybe we'll get some answers. He had been in the bathroom for about 30 minutes trying to get himself cleaned up.  He came out in his diaper, something he never would have done if he had his wits about him.  He said he needed to sit.  So, he sat down and smoked another cigarette.  Just then, Jennifer showed up to shower him.  Every time she showers him, it takes everything out of him.  He is just exhausted just changing his own clothes.  She is patient though and she worked hard to clean him up.  She oils his legs to keep the skin supple but the swelling is starting to take it's toll.  The skin is so stretched it is beginning to weep and bleed.  She puts on clean clothes and he walks out with his salt and pepper hair all wet.  We are talking about his care when his RN shows up.  She sits down at the table and writes a page of things to check on while he finishes a cigarette.  We realize that he is not wearing a bag and we tell her we better put that on now before he ends up wet and we have to start over again.  She agrees and we help him back to his bed.  Once there, she realizes just how infected he is.  Sigh....

We arrived at the clinic 15 minutes  prior to his appointment at 10:45.  Steve seemed to know the drill.  He walked straight up and signed him self in and seemed like his old self again.  Gone was the confusion and clarity had returned.  We wait.  We watched an hour of House they had playing on the big screen.  They had the lobby full of chairs lined in rows like we once did to watch movies in the Elementary school gym.  Finally, they called his name.  He has gained a few pounds.  We are happy that our nutritional efforts are working out.  The doctor prescribes an antibiotic and more pain meds, orders a blood test and wants to see him again in two weeks.  Again, it crosses my mind...will he make it two weeks?

We stop and take him to lunch at a little mom and pop place by the hospital and he eats about half his burger but not very much of anything else.  We box it up and take him home.  He needs his meds and that is a full day for someone in his condition.  He seems good though...just tired.  We let him nap until around five.  Betty tried to wake him up.  She reminded him we are returning tomorrow to Utah and tried to convince him to come and spend some time with us.  He didn't.  I had to get going to collect my things and get some work done.  I went in to kiss him on his head.  I told him I loved him and that I had to leave.  He said okay, love you and I walked out.  I was putting my things in the car when he came walking out the door.  His shoes were on the wrong feet and he walked over to my car to climb in.  It was locked and he was trying over and over.  I told him only I was leaving and walked him back into the house.  He told me that my jokes moved his heart to the right side.  I knew then, the confusion was back.  I told my Grandma to watch him and I would call in an hour.  When I called, he is very confused still.  He told them he didn't think the baked potatoes were very good.  They ate Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner.  I don't know if I should go home tomorrow. 

Grandma said the hospice is having a social worker come by in the morning to evaluate him to stay short term in their hospital to receive IV antibiotics.  They think that is what is causing the confusion.  I wonder to myself "can he rally?"  I am tired but I am trying to make a decision.  Should I go back over there?  Or should I get some sleep?  I know I shouldn't be driving.  My Grandma thinks he'll be okay tonight, but, I will hate myself if I miss it.  I'm thinking...I'm thinking.  I call Grandma again. She assures me it will be okay.  I need my brain with me tomorrow.  I need to talk to the social worker and I may need to drive home.

After making her promise me when she get's up in a few hours to use the restroom that she'll check on him and call me if he is still confused, I decide  I am going to stay here with my Fuller family and get a good nights rest.  I have the greatest support system.

Dave and Tammy have had my back.  They put me up and feed me coffee in the morning.  Their son, John, was so thoughtful, last night he waited to shower for me to get the first one. They gave me my own room and a four poster bed.  My friends back home (Deb, Kathy, Dan and Jay) are making me dinner on Saturday night.  How great is that?  I am deep in the west.  My emotions are running deep.  The see my need and they reach out by text, email and phone calls.  God brought us back together and I think I know why.  This is who we can be ourselves with.  These feelings we feel are about as raw as it gets.  We help each other through the trials.  They feel like a second family.  I am so grateful that God is good and we have earned each other.

I ask myself the big questions: Is there a Heaven?  I think there is.  I believe Steve deserves to go there.  He has always been so good to me.  Without question, steadily supporting me all my life.  I love his humor.  I love his smile.  I love the way he rolls his eyes at me.  I love talking about fixing up our homes.  He is my Favorite.  My friends tell me it is okay to cry.  They tell me they are here for me.  I have not a doubt of it.  I haven't really broken since I found out.  A tear or two has slid down my cheeks when I needed to leave tonight.  What if this is the last time I kiss him on his head?  What if I never hear his voice again?  What will I do?  I am completely unprepared for this reality.  Tears are rolling down my cheeks now.  The things I think....you are beginning to see what I am saying about wondering if I am certifiable. I have seen the Secret.  I don't want to put it out there.  I want him to go quietly.  I don't want him to struggle.  I need to rise up.  I need to rise up and meet this.  I want be there holding his hand.  I think God is gonna be so proud of him.  He was there for me.  He raised Betty's babies until he couldn't anymore when he found he had cancer.  He has been there for Betty steady and true.  He always knew who he was and he never apologized and he never changed.  I love that about him.  In his hours of need I will be there steadily supporting him in return.  I hope God gives me the summer with him.  I hope my fears quiet and we have time to say all the things that need to be said.  I hope I have no regrets.  Energy never dies, it only changes form.