Had God intervened and said no, possibly she would still be an active part of my life today. But instead, He welcomed her home releasing her from the pain and untold suffering she was experiencing from the unimaginable effects of PSP.
Progressive Supranuclear Palsy is a rare brain disease that allows the brain to continue sending messages to the body, but confuses them before they reach their destination. She was literally trapped inside her beautiful body that had no way of obeying the commands sent to it. No way of communicating. No way of making her desires known. No way of caring for her own personal needs. And yet, she chose the way of least resistance. She willed her life to be subject to the grace of God that allowed her to get through what must of been the most horrific existence, which in turn provided her to live out what time the disease allowed, in total peace. She trusted those she loved. She trusted her God. It was God's grace that held her. God's grace that showed her the way through the hardest of mountains that denied movement. And the most depended on was her husband. She couldn't have asked for a better care giver. He gave up his own life to become hers.
It's true...he didn't experience the effects of PSP like she did. But he did experience PSP by watching his beloved suffer. While she was still able to speak, she let him know that she trusted him completely with the choices he made for her care as the disease overtook her. It must have been quite the conversation. He asked for help only a few times. Times he needed assistance while learning how to serve her every need. He shouldn't have had to ask.
And now, 17 long years have flown by, yet I miss her still. Some days are harder than others, but I'll always remember how she encouraged me to live the life God has given me. Live it as though it depends on me to make it good. "You can't change anyone but yourself," she told me. She always spoke truth, never sugar coating it. Truth, she knew, was the only way to set someone free from their (usually self imposed) prison(s). Strange, I feel her presence as I type this, tears once again demanding release from my own body.
Grief and loss have strange ways of progressing. Each individual will experience them differently as they navigate the life that is still bound to earths atmosphere. There are no rules. No timetables. Never progressing from one stage to another, easily. Nor can it be controlled. It's okay to let tears bring about healing, for they will if we but let them. I can't say we will ever be totally back to "normal", but we will gain a sense of what is truly valuable and what is not.
Becky will be with me always, even though I can't physically touch her. She was my protector, literally and spiritually. Coming from such a large family, it usually fell on the slightly older sibling to watch out for the younger. She was mine. She did her job well, even when I resisted and went against her instructions. Ready to receive me back to where she could once again watch over me. How I must of worried her...
I went through several stages of grief when she left. At first I denied this could be happening. The slow progression that took over her body. Then, I felt angry that God could be allowing this to happen. I never bargained with God, like some do. Still, depression hit me like a ton of bricks. Why her? Why not me? She seemed so innocent. So undeserving of this. Eventually I allowed myself to reason it out with God. Allowing truth to speak its peace to my heart. I still miss her, but am getting closer to seeing her again. How quickly the years fly past us, even if some days they seem to crawl out their existence.
I leave you with this: We must treat ourselves with kindness and compassion. No judgement. No what ifs. We have a right to grieve and no one (not even ourselves) can tell us when it's time to end the process of grieving. Seventeen years later, I still grieve. I still love, I still live. But some days, I just need a good cry.
As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.
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