Tuesday, April 11, 2017 - The Events Surrounding Irene's Passing

She had been laying the groundwork for weeks, consciously or subconsciously, by telling everyone that she was getting tired of the fight and the suffering, and we all knew that she was fighting so hard to stay for our sake because she knew how much we all loved her and how much her passing would hurt.  Irene went into the hospital on a day when some of the kids had decided to come up and cook some burgers. I rode in to the hospital with her in the Ambulance, my heart in my throat the whole time. After a scary day in the hospital with her wearing a cpap mask to force oxygen in her, she had gotten much better and had a great time with all the family that was gathered there wearing only her normal oxygen canula.

While she was wearing the cpap and having trouble breathing, another daughter, Ivori, and her son Emanuel came to visit. Irene was in and out of consciousness at the time. Crying, Emanuel took her hand and she squeezed it, opened her eyes and as clear as day through the cpap said "I love you."  They told her they loved her too. Ivori told her she was beautiful and she laughed, looked at Ivori, then nodded and winked.

Her brother, Herbie, asked her if she wanted some steak (she couldn't eat due to a swollen esophagus) and in response she wiggled her eyebrows and laughed. Everyone in the room saw it and heard it and laughed - I can't imagine being in such a condition and still trying to lift the spirits of those around you.  What an incredibly strong, loving and giving person.

Soon after everyone left she started having serious problems breathing.  Our son Robert and I were with her, and she told us that we were the ones that were going to have to make the decisions, and Robert and I both knew what she was telling us - that it was okay with her if it was time for her to go. I don't know that either of us could have made the decision alone.  I felt kind of in shock, it all had happened so fast and she had just felt so good.  We realized she had been leading us to this point for weeks now. Robert called back the other children that had left to go home, thinking the worst was over.

Irene really hated not being able to breath and she hated the cpap device that force oxygen into her lungs. She became barely conscious and mostly incoherent, asking for pain and anxiety meds when she was, and the prognosis was that there was nothing that could be done because she was already so weakened and frail due to the many surgeries and issues caused by the cancer the past two years, so Robert and I decided she had fought and suffered enough and put her on hospice, keeping her on pain and anxiety medication because without them we felt she would be in pain and in panic due to her poor breathing and underlying pain due to cancer isssues. She lost consciousness and lasted another day and a half.

Before long she entirely lost consciousness and was almost entirely unresponsive.

During that time we had all family and friends come up to the hospital and have time alone to say their goodbyes and get closure.  I don't know where the strength came from to endure that time, but I am grateful to God that I had it. It seemed more like I was playing a role in a movie.  Our close friends (that we considered relatives) brought us all into prayer and sang beautifully in that hospital room, sayig that she was already free from her body and all we were waiting for was her body to shut down, telling her we were all there, we all loved her and she was free to go home.  It was very stirring and comforting.

Later, some of us went home to get a shower and some sleep - we didn't know how long this would be and we had been up and catching what rest we could in that room for 72 hours.  With Robert and our daughter Gerra in the room, the pastor came into the room and asked if it was okay for him to pray. Robert and Gerra were there and he prayed with them.  As he was praying her eyes opened a little and when the Pastor said "Amen", she took one last breath and passed.

Some time before, Irene had told our son Mike that it didn't matter to her if everyone was there when she passed, that it was okay and told him not to feel bad if he wasn't there.  Mike walked into the room 2 minutes after she had passed.

About a week before, Irene sewed a button that had come off of my grey vest, which she handed to me when done and I hung up in my closet.  On April 11 after about 3 days of very little sleep, I had come home to shower and try to catch some sleep.  I showered but I couldn't sleep, so I decided to do some work to see if I could unwind some and then sleep. In my mind, Irene and I had said everything that needed to be said for years; we were entirely in love with no regrets or unspoken feelings.  I felt she was already out of her body and I was already talking to her on the way home and while I was at home.  Robert called about 30 minutes later and told me that Irene had passed.  I put on some clothes and picked the grey vest, and when I went to button it, the button Irene had supposedly sewn on just came off - no tug, no string, it was as if it was just balanced on my vest somehow.  I smiled and said "Thanks, babe!" knowing that I was right where I was supposed to be at that moment.

I got to the hospital and said, "man have I got a story to tell you!" thinking about the button on the vest, and they said "Wow, do we have a story to tell you!' about the pastor and the timing of her final breath.

One of our pleasures during the almost three year cancer battle when we drove into town for chemo treatments or doctor visits was to stop at a particular gas station chain (that had several stores along the way) for a flavored cappuccino.   For about 4 months before her passing, when Irene and I would come into town, all those gas stations had been out of any of the cappuccinos we loved.  I tried every one of them in or near our path to her various appointments, sometimes multiple ones on the same day, trying at least 4 different stations over the course of those 4 months.  At one point I just asked the manager if they were out and if  he was going to get any more because they had been out so long.  He just said "no", so I figured they were phasing them out and I stopped even trying to get any.

On the way home after Irene passed with Robert in my car, my cell phone rang and I answered it because we had all just left the hospital and I thought we might have left something there or forgotten something. Normally I don't answer the cell phone when driving, and the distraction had caused me to change my path out of the hospital and the route I normally take home so I could pull off towards the side of the road and not be in traffic.  The person who had called sounded like a sales person but, once again, I thought it might be something important so I listened a little longer than usual and she mentioned the pastor's name at the hospital so I continued listening politely until I could find a time to hang up ASAP.  She asked if I thought Irene would want her corneas donated so someone could get to see and I rolled my eyes knowing yes, Irene wanted it and so I needed to stop and talk to this person.  I  thought I might as well pull into the gas station we were by and fill up the tank while I talked to her.

We sat by the gas pump and she said I would have to verbally fill out a form - it couldn't happen later because it was 5pm and she got off work soon, and it couldn't be the next day because they had to harvest immediately.  So I asked Robert to fill the car up and thought I'd go into the store while talking to her.  Since I couldn't get off the phone until we were done and since I had some time, I decided on a whim to give the Cappucino another try.  They actually had my favorite cappuccino!  I laughed and said out loud, "That's great, babe!" - talking to Irene, again acknowledging her efforts. (Her corneas were harvested and used to give someone sight.)

When all of us got to the house I made sure we had the TV on the Wheel of Fortune channel and paused it while we were talking because that's what Irene and I always watched (and made everyone else watch if they were with us).  Robert's wife, Shanna, had brought some food over and it smelled great. I had already eaten that day (I only ate once a day) but this food smelled so good and I was so hungry that for the first time in about a year I decided to eat a second time in a day. I realized that what I was eating was mashed potatoes and meat loaf.

I asked Shanna why she made that in particular and she said because it was the only ingredients she had on hand.  Meat loaf and potatoes was my favorite meal that Irene made me for 27 years and whenever she wanted to make me something special, she knew without asking to make me meat loaf and mashed potatoes. To me, this was another sign in a long line of signs that she is with us.

When we came to the point in the conversation to where I thought we could watch some Wheel of Fortune, I looked at the TV and realized I had paused it on an graphic on the part of a Texas Oncology commercial that reads "I CAN" in red letters of the words "FIGHT CANCER", right over the Texas Oncology information. Texas Oncology was where Irene's oncologist was and where she got all her chemotherapy and saline infusions.

We all felt she was there with us.  I feel so surreal - it is so, so strange that she actually passed.  She is the glue of the entire family, the central figure.  She is so strong, so vibrant and so loving that it just seems impossible that she's "gone" and the universe is still here.  It's like in one moment, everything changed and nothing is like it was before.  Somehow, by the grace of God, I'm not destroyed - yet, anyway. I can only think it is her and God helping me through this.