Eternally Grateful - Part II

I just wanted to share my thoughts, including some of those from the memorial service:

It seems like a futile endeavor, sharing thoughts that still race too quickly to capture with words. I feel more deeply with each passing day the loss of Yvonne from my life, and I've started to get very sentimental about all the odds-and-ends that still fill the room. It's apparent that not all of them can stay. The clothes she had hanging in the closet are being donated to charity, but the act of removing them is an emotional struggle. I stare at the increasingly empty space those clothes left behind, and fight back tears. None of these things mattered much when Yvonne was living, but now it's proving difficult to say good-bye.

I walk through the house, being reminded of the things that I meant to get done but never quite got to. Now those little chores, which took a back seat to other, more important things, haunt me like missed opportunities, chances I had to show Yvonne I cared. I'll find time now to get them done, but it isn't the same without her around to appreciate them. For thirty years I tried to keep up with things like the chores, and at times I even succeeded. But thirty years is a long time, and it inevitably leaves a lot of loose ends when it abruptly ends.

It’s amazing how two young people can start by sharing time together, then suddenly find that they’ve shared the greater part of their lives in the process. When I remember back thirty years, I can't help but think of the first date we had. I walked up to Yvonne’s door, wearing my Wellington boots, blue jeans and a kind of western-style shirt, my guitar firmly in hand. You might have expected to see a horse tied up just outside the door. At least I wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat, but there I was, like some kind of 28-year old Gene Autry, ready to impress Yvonne with my enchanting romantic ballads.

Unbeknownst to me, Yvonne had already taken to driving past the house where I lived at the time, grabbing glances of me when she could. So it was no surprise that as my son Benjy and Yvonne’s son Matt, both nine years old at the time, spent more time at each other’s homes, there was a not-so-accidental tendency for Yvonne and I to grab such opportunities to talk about life as single parents.

Before many weeks had transpired, our two families – two parents and five energetic kids – were enjoying outings to Disneyland, the beach, and other such attractions. I quickly came to love Yvonne for the way she opened her heart to my boys, who had moved with me to California after they were separated by divorce from their mother and two sisters.
I guess every new couple has its favorite song. For Yvonne and me, it was a not-so-lyrical tune that asked the following question:

Some people are made for each other
Some people can love one another for life
How 'bout us?

Some people can hold it together
Last through all kinds of weather
Can we?

As time would tell, we definitely could.
Couples typically find special ways to communicate, and Yvonne and I were no exception. Early in our relationship, Yvonne and I adopted an abbreviated sign language phrase, "I-L-Y" whenever we wanted to quietly say "I Love You." This became our trademark gesture of greeting and goodbye.

Yvonne truly opened her heart to people, and her care for the kids was a beautiful thing, although sometimes this care evidenced itself in the form of one of her famous (or infamous) lectures, which the kids seemed to have all memorized and indexed. When they knew they were in trouble, they might say something like "Oh no, here goes lecture number 24."

But more often, Yvonne's love and care took the form of a sincere and active interest in the kids' lives. Through good times and bad, with all the mistakes, mayhem and misadventures that come with raising a large family, Yvonne never failed to show her love and concern. She never wavered in her devotion to the family. While I usually came home tired every night, Yvonne always had the energy, even after working all day, to stay abreast of the kids' latest activities, interests and friends, who I might add always felt welcome in the house.

Yvonne never stopped being an active parent and grandparent. After all the children were grown she took on the responsibility of helping care for the grandchildren, a role she never ceased to enjoy. Counting the seven children we had between the two of us, and adding sixteen grandchildren and one great-grandchild, it seems assured that Yvonne's loving influence will continue to be felt for generations.

Yvonne was a person of deep faith, though she was very quiet about such things. She always had the firm belief that life is eternal and meaningful. On that last day of her illness, she was in good spirits as the morning came, and I went to work, trusting she would be fine until I could get there to visit. I seemed to be right. I received a very good report from the ICU staff, but was abruptly prompted to leave work immediately and get to the hospital. I can now appreciate what a blessing that prompting was, for it would turn out that this would be my last opportunity to spend time with Yvonne.

When I arrived at the ICU, Yvonne was resting somewhat comfortably. She and I visited, and at mid-day she decided it was a good time to get some sleep. We arranged that I would go home and get five-year old granddaughter Payton on the phone to visit with Grandma. Payton had really missed Yvonne during her hospital stay, and Yvonne enjoyed every second of the phone conversation that afternoon.

After that, I returned to the hospital to be with Yvonne. We had a very enjoyable time, visiting with Yvonne's son Matt. Shortly before supper time, Matt and I excused ourselves briefly and went to the waiting room. Then things seemed to take a turn for the worse. Yvonne was experiencing circulatory distress, and the medical staff was frantically trying to stabilize her. For the next few minutes, despite the commotion, Yvonne calmly faced the situation with characteristic concern for others. She insisted on seeing Matt and his brother Michael, who had arrived shortly before that. Then it was time for me to come in, as the medical staff prepared the operating room for an emergency exploratory procedure. As the time approached for her to be taken to surgery, she looked up at me apologetically. “I may be leaving you soon,” she said, her eyes conveying the message of a final farewell.

As she was wheeled away, she hand-signaled “I love you.” I signaled back. It was to be our last communication in this life. Two hours later, I cried over her still form, wanting so much to bring her back, yet knowing that now she was in a far better place. I can only take comfort in the knowledge that she is happier now, and without the pain that tormented her those last few days. I would like to share the following simple poem, from an unknown author, which conveys what I feel Yvonne was saying that day:

When I am gone, release me, let me go.
I have so many things to see and do,
You mustn't tie yourself to me with too many tears,
But be thankful we had so many good years.
I gave you my love, and you can only guess
How much you've given me in happiness.
I thank you for the love that you have shown,
But now it is time I traveled on alone.
So grieve for me a while, if grieve you must
Then let your grief be comforted by trust
That it is only for a while that we must part,
So treasure the memories within your heart.
I won't be far away for life goes on.
And if you need me, call and I will come.
Though you can't see or touch me, I will be near
And if you listen with your heart, you'll hear
All my love around you soft and clear
And then, when you come this way alone,
I'll greet you with a smile and a "Welcome Home."

I know Yvonne has been welcomed home, and that I will see her again.