Surviving

This summer is proving to be quite different than most.  For years I spent my days with my kids at swimming and tennis lessons ...and at the beach.  Summer was the season most suited to Phoebe.  And so we remember her well, as we always do, but something different takes over in the warmth of the sun, the heaviness of humidity and the late setting sun.  Time is freer, schedules are loose and gangly, meals take on a bohemian flare ...there's more time to consider what is missing, what's different.  Phoebe is gone ...she is dead.
My time is occupied now working as a nurse, and now training for a new job that will ultimately work very well for our family.  There is an upfront cost however that is leaving me with full days, too many away from my kids.  We all know its temporary and my husband has been able to be with them when I'm not ...but still, I don't like being away so much.  It will pass ...this demanding schedule.  But as much as I don't like it, I am also grateful for it because it distracts me.  This is a tough time for me, and I know God has given me something to use as a life raft ...something to help me hang on. 
Just five minutes from my house is a nursing facility where I began my nursing career.  Before laying down the money for school to become a nurse I thought it would be wise to work as a nurse's aide in this type of place.  I figured if I liked that work in that sort of environment with those particular patients ...I'd be happy as a nurse.  And so I began a new chapter just down the road a ways.  I worked the overnight from 11 - 7, which worked well for my family.  In the still of night time I forged some friendships with people much older than myself.  Some of them enjoyed late night conversations ...and plenty of them held their rosary beads while they slept, prayer cards on their bedsides.  Sometimes we talked, sometimes we prayed ....and sometimes I just had the honor of being in their presence.  It has been a few years since that time.  I couldn't juggle both school and work ...and school won out.  It was my hope to return to this place as a nurse, and while plenty encouraged and assured me this would happen it took until now, a year later to find a position in this place.  Honestly, I was a bit put out when they didn't even offer an interview last summer ...but I know now why ...all too well.  Had I started there then I would have been bound to a regular schedule, one that didn't allow any flexibility ...because this place can't run on flexibility.  Instead, I found a job somewhere else that gave flexible options with "flex time", with a boss that understood family life and all its demands.  Right away I loved this job, the people I worked with and especially the people I got to serve as a nurse.  And then Phoebe died.  Just like that! In this place, God choreographed a series of events and conversations I didn't know at the time were preparing me for losing my precious girl.  I've written of them before ...St. Padre Pio's image always on my path and two days before, not one but four of him, a conversation with a woman who had lost her daughter, witnessing her survival, and my hand touching hers telling her I couldn't imagine a worse pain and her nodding.  I didn't know I would hold that same hand again weeks later as tears streamed both our faces as we remembered our girls and the smiles when we considered how our daughters know each other now ...just like their mothers do.  That same day I had given a sewing thimble to another old friend of my mothers.  They shared many years in friendship well before either married and I knew this women was sad over the loss of her husband.  Something prompted me to wrap this keepsake and let her know I believed my mother wanted to offer her some comfort.  I know now  that my mother was letting me know she was near me as the dreaded day approached.?
When I called my boss to let her know my daughter had died and I wouldn't be at work there was a rush of love, support and prayers ...and a free ticket to whatever time I needed ...with a job waiting for me when I was ready.  Had  I worked elsewhere ...this would not have happened.  And so, as He does, God wove the perfect tapestry for me ...and the place I had first wanted to work wasn't part of it.  But I think now it is.
I'm training now for a per diem job, meaning I can tell them when I can work ...they don't usually hire for this and so I feel remarkably blessed ....and grateful.
Lots of people there are familiar to me ...both workers and residents.  I don't know who knows that my Phoebe has died ...some do, but its old news now to most people, so not something that would make the circuit ...and that's okay with me.  My second day training I walked the long corridor down to my old stomping ground ...only this time to the other side of the nurses station.  Before I got there, a little wave and then a smile ...my old partner.  I worked with her ...the two of us overnight, caring for 40 patients.  I give her a hug ...she asks me to work the overnight ...maybe I say.  At the desk I catch myself and fight back the torrent that wants to rush forward.  Phoebe was such a part of this place for me ...she loved hearing the stories and she often sent me messages at the beginning of my shift and then early morning as I was finishing.  Sometimes they were regular, other times funny ...and other times very teenagerish.  My partner had a daughter the same age so we shared stories while our 23 year old nurse laughed, not so far away from being a teenager.  The reminder is too strong in this moment ...and as quick as it comes there's a voice in my head "I'm right here mom, always right here.  I'm so proud of you ...you've worked so hard ...I love you."  I shake it off ...it's my own head wishing for something that can't be anymore.  I ask God to not let me play those tricks on myself ..."please don't let me do that ...it hurts too much, don't let me pretend ...please God, don't let me pretend."
The day kicks off and I enter a familiar room, find the familiar bed ...and she is there.  My little friend, opens her eyes wide and smiles.  I smile back "do you remember me?".  "Of course I do ...how are you ...how are the children?" she asks me.  Their fine, I tell her ...no need to tell  her all of it.  I  hold her hand and tell her how happy I am to see her ...and that I will see her again soon.  A few hours pass as I learn this place from a different perspective when all of a sudden there is a great rush.  She is being pushed back to her room, lifeless in her chair ...my friend.  She is limp and not breathing and she is blue around her lips.  For sure she is gone and I want to cry ...because I know her struggle ...her overwhelming sadness at losing her house, losing her ability to move on her own ...until finally she is chairbound.  She is flat and her name is being screamed to rouse her and there is not breath and no pulse.  Her eyes won't react.  We do all we can ...and I pray "God, please let Phoebe greet her.  Phoebe please take care of her ...this little old lady with no children, no husband, please guide her home to her Heavenly Father whom she loved so much despite her sadness.  I beg for Phoebe to be there.  "No mom, it's not her time." clear again in my head.  I shake it off, my friend is dead. its been too long...and then ...a great gasp of air, the eyes flutter and open ....and a peaceful smile is there.  And I wonder ...is this in my head ...or might it be real.  Could it be that my great girl, my girl who I miss with every shattered piece of my heart , every moment of my day could possibly be with me still. 
And if I could have just one moment to hold her, one moment to see her floppy bun, and hear her voice might I feel better ...be satisfied for the rest of my journey.  Or am I asking for far too much.  Perhaps these are the gifts, the best gifts, God will give to me for now ....and if they are his for me ...they are grand.  In this place, people die.  For most, it is their final place of residence.  And it is a good place ...it is a  home and they are so well loved.  But they are close to the other side here.
One man has only weeks, perhaps days left ...he calls out to his wife ...long since gone.  The family knows, knows this happens towards the end.  I watch him while the others sadly shake their heads ...they don't want to lose him.  They think its sad he talks to his wife.  I stay quiet, pangs of jealousy  "how lucky you are old man"  I think.  I long for that day ...to talk to her again.  That longing cuts deep ...and grows deeper as time passes. 
Summer this year is as it is for a reason.  Our kids are playing hard, and living a full, rich life by the sea ...and their mom, Phoebe's mom ...I'm where I should be ...so my kids can be kids.  It's different for sure, but I guess for now, it needs to be.  I've entrusted it all to God ...and I trust Him.  I do ...to help me survive as the shock of what's happened begins to fade and the real hard work of grieving begins...

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen.