The Call We Didn’t Want – Can’t Forget!

It has been four years since we got that call – but the memory is still fresh in our minds.

After that phone call I stopped blogging for several months.  But finally, I realized that is not what Keith would have wanted.  Today – we still remember not just that terrible phone call – but we recall the memories we have.

For my husband the memories are multiple.  Keith was his first born.  Named Paul Keith he was known to all but the family as Paul – but to us he was Keith.

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Paul’s oldest son, Paul Keith Lane with his sister, Loretta

I did not meet Keith until a few months after I married his father.  Keith was 24 at that time.   Paul’s daughter, Loretta, was very ill and in the hospital.  Paul had flown down immediately to be with her.  I waited until our son, Will, could get home from college so we could fly down together.  At the Dallas airport I asked them to page Paul Lane to meet us at the main terminal.  I was quite surprised when Keith walked up and said “I’m Paul Lane.”  What a way to meet your step-son.

But step-son is not a word I like when talking of Keith.  I came to love him as my own and I’ll never forget the day he asked if he could call me “Mom.”  Memories of all the times he came to visit and the close relationship we were able to build are mine to treasure forever..  He loved to cook and when he would visit he always made the best potato salad in the world.

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We had a red bud tree planted near his grave in his memory.

 

Here is what I wrote when I began blogging again.

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Unexpected, Unwanted Call

I last posted on my blog in April. While we were on vacation, we got that unwanted, unexpected phone call in the night. A police officer called to tell us that our son had been found dead in his apartment. While we knew he was not in good health (a disabled veteran) and would probably not live to be an old man, we still did not expect to be planning his funeral. As my husband sadly said, “No one should bury their own child.” Yet, we know that many do – some burying their children at a much younger age than our son.

I stopped blogging

At times of great grief, your world seems to come to a halt. My husband and I are great Scrabble nuts as I shared before in

Confessionns of a Scrabble Addict  (https://barblaneblog.com/2015/02/22/confessions-of-a-scrabble-addict/) .

But suddenly we no longer wanted to play. It was as if continuing with our favorite game was somehow to make his death seem unimportant. Every time I sat down to blog, I could not decide on a subject. Should I continue to write about the silly, every-day part of my life. How could I do that when I’m supposed to be grieving? Should I continue to write on more serious subjects. I just did not have the heart for that. So – I stopped blogging.

But the world does NOT stop turning. 

But, even if we would like it to, the world does not stop turning.  Life goes on – and that is a good thing.  While we will always miss and grieve the loss of our son, we are so blessed with other children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  We do no service to his memory to stop loving life.

Let the games begin – the blogging continue

So – tonight we are going to play a game of Scrabble and I am returning to my writing.

 

When Will Daddy Stop Being Dead?

Yesterday it was 37 years since my first husband was killed in an accident.  He died when the car he was working on fell on top of him and crushed him.  My two young daughters came home from school and found him there.  Needless to say, it was quite a traumatic experience for them.

All of the events surrounding that day are forever entrenched in my mind.  But one memory that still haunts me occurred about six weeks after the funeral.

At the time of his death as I tried to comfort my daughters, my youngest daughter seemed not to really be upset or need any comforting.  As family and friends came in for the funeral she enjoyed playing with cousins and friends and appeared to have no sorrow for her father’s death.

At first I thought it was just shock but after the funeral was over and weeks began to pass she still shown no sign of any trauma or sorrow.

I began wondering what kind of daughter I was raising.

Finally, about six weeks later she came to me and asked a question I will never forget.

“Mommy, when will Daddy stop being dead and come home?”

Oh my!!!

It was then I realized what she had been thinking all this time.

A few months before his death he had injured his back and was in the hospital for almost two weeks.  At that time the hospital did not allow young children in the rooms so when I went to see him I would have them stand in the yard just outside his window.  He would come to the window and wave at them.

When he was discharged from the hospital we had a party!  The girls made a sign “Welcome home Daddy” and we hung it just over the door to the kitchen.  We had cake and ice cream and celebrated that Daddy was home with us once again.

At that moment, I realized my young daughter did not understand what “dead” meant.  She had apparently thought it was just another injury and that Daddy would be coming home again.

That moment was one of the hardest times of my life.

I sat her down and sadly had to tell her:

“Daddy is dead,  Dead means he will never come home again.”

I still remember her face!

Tears swelled up in her eyes and she fell into my arms and cried.  Clearly her heart was broken.

daughters

No one can measure the trauma and pain both my daughters experienced because of their father’s accidental death.  Or the pain I felt seeing them hurting and feeling so inadequate for the task of helping them in this difficult time.

But one thing I learned – and I trust they did too.

Although death – or sometimes divorce or abandonment by a father – can leave us fatherless, we still have a heavenly father who loves and cares for us.

In the months and years ahead I have both experienced that heavenly father’s protection and love for me but also seen His help to my daughters.

I do not pretend to know why my daughters lost their earthly father but I thank God that we have a heavenly father who cares and who helps us when we walk through that valley of the shadow of death – or any other difficult time.

And I praise God that He has given both my daughters a family of their own to love and to have their love.

I also praise God that as a Christian I believe although that little girl’s daddy could not come back home to her – some day she will join him in the new home God has made for them both.

What a great reunion!

 

 

Christmas Past – Laughing Through the Tears

Recently I posted a blog on my memories of my favorite Christmas gift ever.  After posting that I have found myself awake in the middle of the night thinking of other Christmas memories.  Seems this first post has now led to more.

Christmas Past – My Best Christmas Present Ever

In my second post I shared how my future husband proposed to me on Christmas Day 1968.  We had thirteen wonderful years together and were blessed with two beautiful daughters.

One of the memories that came to me in the middle of the night was a Christmas that was lonely and difficult.  In March of 1982 my husband (whose proposal I wrote about in a previous post) was killed in an accident.

Christmas Past – I Said “Yes”

This was the first Christmas my young daughters and I spent without him.  Although it has been 36 years since that Christmas I can close my eyes and still feel the pain, the deep unspeakable sense of being alone.

But along with these sad thoughts comes one that makes me smile.

That year a friend had given my youngest daughter a book for Christmas that brought us some laughs.  Called the “Ugly Joke Book,” it had the usual jokes like:

  • Beauty is only skin deep …but ugly goes all the way to the bone!
  • I was such an ugly kid. When I played in the sandbox the cat kept covering me up.
  • You know you’re ugly when it comes to a group picture and they hand you the camera.

In this day of PC I suppose these jokes would not be appropriate to many.  That Christmas night, seeing the sad faces of my little girls, I was determined to not let their Christmas night end in terrible sadness.  Out came the book.  I had us all get in our pajamas, climb into bed and read the jokes.  Some of the jokes were funny, others not so much.  But I laughed at each one as if it was the funniest thing in the world.  After reading the book and staying up way past their bed time, I laid with them asleep in my arms and thanked God that in the midst of sorrow, if we look for it, we can also find joy.

daughters

We had spent Christmas Eve with our extended family.  We were made so sad because during the entire day no one said anything about our husband/father.  It was as if he had never existed; as if his absence was of no importance to anyone.  Before returning home, I expressed my hurt to my older sister.

I think I made her cry as she explained they had all agreed not to mention his name because they were afraid of causing us pain.  They thought they were doing the kind thing.  Sadly they had not.

So – if you have family or friends who have lost a loved one this year – or really any time in the past – don’t be afraid to mention them.  Say how you miss them.  Share memories you have of them.

God has blessed us and He brought a good man into our lives a few years after this Christmas and my daughters have married and have a family.  Our Christmas this year will not be lonely and we are happy.

But we will always remember this wonderful man that made that Christmas one to remember.  And in the midst of our celebration, our thoughts will remember dear, dear Lonnie Lott.

missing

 

 

 

 

 

What makes a man a Grandpa?

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My daughters “Shadow” and “Giggles” with their beloved Grandpa

I remember his big hands.  They were very large, yet always gentle.

I remember the love and care he gave my daughters after their father was killed in an accident.

I remember the nick names he gave to both of them.  My oldest daughter was “Giggles” and my youngest was “Shadow.”

I remember how he understood my deep grief and sorrow after my husband’s death in a way no one else in the family did because he had also lost his first wife in death.

I remember how he just stood by my side in silence with his big hand on my shoulder in the days following my husband’s death while others in the family would be sharing their opinion on why God had allowed Lonnie to be taken from me and my little daughters.   Or, how he would give me a hug at family gatherings when my heart ached for the empty spot at the table where my husband would have sat and no one else in the family even mentioned his name.  It seemed at times as if they had never seen him as a part of our family.  But I knew that Grandpa Gerling missed him along with me and my girls.  He never had to say a word.  His hand on my shoulder, his hug, his whisper to me “It will get better in time” said it all.

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My mother and step-father — Grandpa Gerling

He was not biologically a grandfather to my girls but if love counts for anything, he was their grandfather.  My husband’s family seemed too lost in their own grief after his death to offer any love or comfort to my daughters.  My own father had deserted me and my mother when I was 13 and although he came back into my life later he was always very negative when we were around him and critical of me.  My hair was too short.  My slacks were too tight.  So the only love they were shown by a grandfather was my step-dad, Grandpa Gerling.

He has been gone now for many years, but I still miss him.  I often think how much he would have enjoyed seeing my daughters’ children, how much he would have showered them with love.

This time of year I always think of him.  In the fall he would always fix us his goulash.  My girls and I now make that dish – and remember his kindness and love to us.

He was not their “real’ grandfather.  They shared no DNA.  But he was the only “real” grandfather they knew.  Because what makes a man a grandfather is more than sharing his DNA, it is sharing his love.

So as fall comes and I think about the trips at this time of year to Mom and Cliff’s house for goulash, I thank God for giving my daughters a “real” grandpa.

 

 

Life — What a Wonderful Gift!

I Made it!!!!!!

This month I celebrated three years of retirement!!!  Over thirteen years ago I was diagnosed with a very advanced and aggressive breast cancer and told the “odds were not in my favor.”   Cancer Survivor.  As I went through nine months of treatment, my prayer was “Dear Lord, please let me live until I can retire and give me three years of retirement to enjoy with my husband.”

On January 3 of this year, I reached that milestone.  I  have enjoyed three wonderful years of retirement.  My husband and I have been able to travel to the east coast visiting the homes of Presidents Jefferson, Madison and Monroe as well as the Confederate States White House in Richmond.  We followed the Morman Trail out west and visited the Outer Banks of North Carolina with our daughter and her husband.

I have enjoyed days of working in our hosta garden, reading all the books I brought when I was working but never had time to read and playing countless games of Scrabble with my husband.  We share an addiction to the game.  Confessions of a Scrabble Addict! 

My prayer was answered and I have had these past three years.  Each day that I live beyond January 3 is like a priceless gift – a gift “above and beyond.”  I have no idea how much further this “journey’ will take me.

  • Will I live to be 102?
  • Will this be the last year of my life?
  • Will I remain cancer-free and healthy?
  • Will some day the cancer appear again somewhere in my body?

But I have determined to not worry about tomorrow – but just enjoy today!  I cannot change the past – I cannot control the future.  But I can enjoy every moment of today!

“It is not required that we know all of the details about every stretch of the river. Indeed, were we to know, it would not be an adventure, and I wonder if there would be much point in the journey.”
Jeffrey R. Anderson

 

So come on Life!

I’m looking forward to whatever God has in store for me tomorrow!!!!!!

The Unwanted, Unexpected Phone Call in the Night

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Unexpected, Unwanted Call

I last posted on my blog in April. While we were on vacation, we got that unwanted, unexpected phone call in the night. A police officer called to tell us that our son had been found dead in his apartment. While we knew he was not in good health (a disabled veteran) and would probably not live to be an old man, we still did not expect to be planning his funeral. As my husband sadly said, “No one should bury their own child.” Yet, we know that many do – some burying their children at a much younger age than our son.

I stopped blogging

At times of great grief, your world seems to come to a halt. My husband and I are great Scrabble nuts as I shared before in

Confessionns of a Scrabble Addict  (https://barblaneblog.com/2015/02/22/confessions-of-a-scrabble-addict/) .

But suddenly we no longer wanted to play. It was as if continuing with our favorite game was somehow to make his death seem unimportant. Every time I sat down to blog, I could not decide on a subject. Should I continue to write about the silly, every-day part of my life. How could I do that when I’m supposed to be grieving? Should I continue to write on more serious subjects. I just did not have the heart for that. So – I stopped blogging.

But the world does NOT stop turning. 

But, even if we would like it to, the world does not stop turning.  Life goes on – and that is a good thing.  While we will always miss and grieve the loss of our son, we are so blessed with other children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  We do no service to his memory to stop loving life.

Let the games begin – the blogging continue

So – tonight we are going to play a game of Scrabble and I am returning to my writing.

 

The Day That Changed My Life

Finally – spring!

Finally, spring had arrived!  After a very long, cold and snowy winter, spring had come at last and warm temperatures were promised for the next week.  We were so excited!  At last the girls’ daddy could take them fishing in our pond.  More important to me, now my husband and I could begin our new home.

In September of the previous year we had purchased some property in the country where we were going to build our home.  It had been our dream since we had married over 12 years before that one day we would build a home in the country with a little acreage where we could have a big garden, a few cows and a horse for our daughters.

The property was perfect!  Set on a hill it overlooked fields of corn directly in front of us and behind us were thick woods.  Just down the hill was a winding creek perfect for wading in the hot summer.  We had a pond stocked with fish and for my fisherman husband – that was the icing on the cake.

The only bad thing about the purchase was that until we built our house we would have to live in the mobile home on the property and it was in terrible shape.  About to fall down, when the wind blew, the windows offered little protection.  But we only had to get through the winter and in spring we could begin building.  One year in a junky trailer would be worth achieving our dream.

But what a winter!

When we moved in we had no idea what a cold winter was coming our way.  Record temperatures were set that year and it seemed it would never stop snowing.  The water pipes froze in the trailer and we had to carry water from the well – in the freezing temperatures!  The only heat we had was a wood-burning stove in the living room so we  all slept together in a big bed we put in the room.  My husband and I kept saying to one another as we snuggled with the girls between us in the bed trying to keep them warm, “Hang in there – spring is coming!”

I began planning my flower garden.  After the house was built and we had the trailer moved, we would make a beautiful flower garden where the trailer had set.  My husband was talking to local farmers to determine where we could buy a couple of cows and a horse for the girls!  All we had to do was tough it out for a few more weeks until spring came.

As spring approached and the temperatures began to climb, the girls began asking their daddy, “Can we go fishing now?”  He promised them that he would take them fishing on Saturday.

Then Thursday came!

Thursday morning my husband drove me to work.  He had worked the midnight shift.  Although he was tired, he was going to make some repairs on the car before going to bed.  He had a rough night at work and was a little cranky.  On the ride into town, I tried to tease him and get him in a better mood.  By the time we arrived at my office, he was smiling at me once again.  I looked at him and said, “You would miss me if something happened to me – like you would miss a migraine!”  We laughed and I kissed him not knowing that was the last time I would ever be able to do that.

I had planned to give my husband a call at lunchtime to see how the car repairs were going, but the day was so busy, I kept working through lunch.  After school I received a call from my oldest daughter.  No surprise there – my girls always called me when they got home from school to let me know they were okay and tell me about their day.  Their father was always home when they arrived, but I still liked to hear from them after school.  I answered the phone expecting the usual “Hi Mommy!”  But I was not prepared for what I heard.  My oldest daughter, 11, said words I will never forget.  “Mommy, I think Daddy is dead!”  Both my daughters – ages 6 and 11 – had come home to find their father dead in the driveway.  The car he had been working on had fallen on him and crushed him.

There must be some mistake!

At first I could not believe it!  I thought he is only injured – not dead.  I panicked, but my daughter showed more calmness than I did.  She called the ambulance and the neighbor.  Believing that he must only be injured and that they would take him directly to the hospital, I called a friend who drove me to the hospital.  We waited and waited.  Finally, sensing something was not right, my friend spoke to the nurses in the emergency room.  They told her he would not be coming to the hospital – he had been pronounced dead at the scene.

We jumped in the car and hurried to my country home.  How could I have been such an idiot?  Why did I not go directly to my daughters?  How horrible it must be for them out there with their father dead and their mother still in town?

Walking in a dream!

The next few days were like a dream – or a nightmare!  I found it hard to go to sleep, and when I finally fell asleep, I would wake up realizing something was wrong – but what was it?  Then, it would hit me again – my husband is dead!

I must be strong!

My main thought was that I had to be strong for my daughters.  My own parents had  divorced when I was young.  My father had deserted me and my mother just fell apart emotionally.  Not only was I left to basically deal with my sorrow on my own, but I felt responsible to help my mother deal with her anger and grief.  I was determined I would not repeat that mistake – I would not put my burden of sorrow and pain on my daughters.  Looking back, I realize I may have made a mistake in trying to be so strong for them.  As little girls, they saw this strong woman (not knowing the heartbreak I hid from them) and I think they grew up with an image of a strong woman who no one could really live up to.

My life was changed!

Suddenly, without any warning, my life was changed.  The plans we had made, the hope we had for spring was gone.  There would be no new house, no flower garden, no horse in the pasture.  I just could not do all that on my own.

As family and friends came for the funeral and to try to comfort us, I could see that they did not see the dream my husband and I had shared.  All they saw was the dumpy mobile home and they thought “Poor Barbara.  Look where she was living.”  How I longed to tell them about the blueprints we had for our new house – about the garden catalogs where the pages were marked just waiting for us to order the bulbs in a few weeks.  I wanted to point out where the vegetable garden would go and the new driveway we would have when the trailer was removed.

But my grief was too much – so I just accepted their words of comfort and tried to ignore those who gave me looks of condescension.  Although that dream would not come true, it would always remain in my heart – it would always be something I had shared with my husband.

In the midst of sorrow, God was there

God was so present to me in my time of shock and grief.  When I first heard those horrible words from my daughter that my husband was dead, I immediately thought, “What will I do to raise two girls all alone.”  Even before the question was completed in my mind, I remembered those words of Jesus, “Lo, I am with you always.”

And He was.  Every step of the way.  During visitation the young couple that we were buying our property from on contact for deed, asked to speak to me privately.  I assumed they were concerned if I was going to continue to make payments on the land and I quickly assured I would.  They told me that was not why they wanted to speak to me.  They did not understand the sense of peace it seemed everyone had.  They said, “We have never attended a visitation or funeral where we sensed such peace.  Why do you seem so at peace?”

The Prince of Peace

What a joy it was to tell them that I knew the Prince of Peace – that my husband had known Him too.  And although we sorrowed it was not without hope.

And now, dear brothers, I want you to know what happens to a Christian when he dies so that when it happens, you will not be full of sorrow, as those are who have no hope.  For since we believe that Jesus died and then came back to life again, we can also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him all the Christians who have died.   I can tell you this directly from the Lord: that we who are still living when the Lord returns will not rise to meet him ahead of those who are in their graves.   For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a mighty shout and with the soul-stirring cry of the archangel and the great trumpet-call of God. And the believers who are dead will be the first to rise to meet the Lord.   Then we who are still alive and remain on the earth will be caught up with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air and remain with him forever.   So comfort and encourage each other with this news.

There is sorrow – but there is hope – and there is joy!

My life – and the lives of my daughters – were forever changed.  There will always be sorrow – especially for my daughters – when they miss their daddy not being there at important times in life.  But there is hope – we will meet again.  And God brings joy even now.  In time, when the wounds were not so bad, God brought another man into our lives to be my husband and their “Pop.”  He did not replace their daddy – he has never tried to do that.  But he has loved them as his own and brought joy once again to our lives.

I  can only imagine

There was a song out a few years ago that talked about what we would do when we get to heaven – and of course, we can only imagine.  But sometimes when I think of heaven, I can just see my present husband meeting my first husband and I can hear the words he would probably speak.

Thank you for loving and taking care of my three girls when I could not.

My faith is built on a solid rock!

My life changed that day – but after 33 years I can say with no doubt – My God is faithful!

You are in our thoughts forever!

Lonnie Dale Lott

May 22, 1948 – March 25, 1982