A request

Life's been a little less stressful round here as Joel has been mostly happy for the last week. He's still had a few bouts of unexplained discomfort/pain, but mostly he's been full of smiles and laughs in the way that only he has.

It was still a bit of a heavy week. Two children from the PBD support group passed away recently. It's hard to explain what that is like. While your pain is NOTHING compared to what the parents are going through, in a small way if feels like your own child has died. It makes you think/feel some of the emotions you know will be your own someday. I always feel so helpless, being so far away from these fellow travellers on this crazy road. I'd like to go and cry with them, but I can't. So for a few days, there is a knot of anxiety in my belly and some tears here and there.

Steve and I have been trying to work some more things out, for when Joel dies, so we won't be left with the stress of trying to do it while we are hit with his loss. It's not the most fun I've ever had. Right now we are looking into finding a cemetery plot to purchase. Something I don't really want to do right now, but I want to have to do it even less in the days immediately after Joel dies.

More and more, I am aware of the many people around me who are also broken and in pain. Friends and church members who've lost husbands. People with sick or dying children. Families struggling to stay together. It seems like it is all around me, suddenly. Of course, my heart also hurts worse, now, when I do hear about it. Because now I understand pain ever so much better.

And I have a request for the people who live close by and for some crazy reason care about me. I've gotten better at making requests. I've realized that it's not just poor husbands who live with the burden of unspoken wishes. You know, when you think "Surely he KNOWS what would help me/make me happy/be a good gift...___________ (fill in the blank)" And we do that to people too. At least, I have. I don't want to have to ask for anything. Too proud. I just want people to offer "if they REALLY want to" and the tried and true test for that is by not mentioning anything, just waiting to see if they can read my mind or divine it from my life.

So, I'm learning not to do that. I'm learning that people (just like me) don't always know what you would like or need, no matter how much they care or want to help. So, I'm going to tell you something.

Please don't wait until Joel DIES to comfort me. What I mean is, I have this feeling that when Joel dies, people will come over to help. They will bring food. They will bring coffee. They will offer help. They will offer to take care of Caeden. They will offer to take me out or sit and listen or cry with me.

These are all good things. I might need some of that, after Joel dies. But in a strange way, I think I might need it just as much or more as we get slowly nearer to the final stages of Joel dying. I don't know how to explain this very well. Dying is so hard. Watching someone you love die is so hard. Watching someone you love who is a wee child die is excruciating.

People have been so great when Joel is in hospital. I am very, very grateful. My case coordinator can't believe how people will babysit for me or help me out. It is really amazing.

And every time there is an illness or problem, it seems more and more serious. I'm asking for a difficult thing here. I'm asking for something that most people can't, or won't do. I'm asking my best friends to be in this for the long haul, and they will likely get precious little in return...

Because Joel's dying could take months. I mean, there could be months of in and out of the hospital. Months of losing more and more strength. Months of fixing problem after problem. Needing more oxygen. Who knows??

So I'm asking you all to walk with me through it. I mean, I can't think of asking for something more difficult. I'm asking you to walk with me through the fire. I'm asking you to "debrief" me after hospital stays, by which I mean come over and talk it out with me. I'm asking you to listen to me go on and on about Joel's health and how much it hurts and about what scares me about his death. I'm asking you to visit when he's in hospital and I'm asking you to visit when he's out of hospital. Maybe when I'm having a rough week, take me out for coffee in the evening, or just sit WITH me while I hold my unhappy child and maybe even cry. I'm asking you to send me emails to encourage me, maybe a verse or two if you have found one you like. I'm even asking you to ask me the "hard" questions. Some of this you are doing already, I can't thank you enough... I'm just afraid I might need "more" of it soon...

I've been trying to think of what sort of questions those "hard" questions are, what sort of things you could ask or say to get me to unlock my box of grief and let it out. It's hard to make a list. And it sounds hideous to write it out. But yes, I really do want you to ask me even hard things. A good friend who had a baby at the start of the summer was brave enough to ask me if it would bother me when she had the baby. She wanted to know if I was going to avoid her because it was too painful. I was grateful for her honesty. I crave it. We had a good discussion about it. And I was happy to get a visit from her, baby and all. So I do want you to ask me the hard questions, even if they are about Joel's death.

And really, truly, please come by to pray with me. I crave this as well. I don't know how hard it might be to pray after Joel is gone, but I can pray now, so please, come and pray with me.

I've been praying really hard that God will take Joel with out a long and lingering death. I'm asking Him to take Joel "suddenly" if possible, at the end of the good days he has left. But I don't know if God's going to say yes to that one. So even if it takes months and months, I'm asking for some TLC grief care in those nails on a chalkboard of my heart kind of months where my life might be nothing but sickness and sadness weaving in and out.

In asking you this, I'm asking for quite a feat of friendship endurance. I feel guilty asking for it. But still, here I am, asking you, even though I have a good idea of what it might cost you to join in my life and my grief. I can only hope I'll be as good a friend to you in your time of need, and yes, I promise, if I can "pay you back," I will.

May God bless you as you have already given so much to me, as Jesus said "good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over..." (Luke 6:38)