Yesterday was an incredibly difficult day. As you may know, my mom, June, was diagnosed with metastatic gallbladder cancer in February. After a long, in some ways, yet oh so brief journey in others, we learned the results of Mom's most recent CT scan.
The scan revealed that the tumors on her liver are continuing to grow at a very rapid rate. The cancer's tenacity, coupled with Mom's already compromised strength, remove the option of further chemo. And Mom's body couldn't take it even if she chose to go that route, which she hasn't. We support her decision with all our hearts, even though it's heartbreaking.
Mom and me on the first day of a family cruise that we were
privileged to take together (May 24, 2009)
Mom's chosen to spend her remaining days at home, so tomorrow we're moving her there and will care for her with the help of hospice until the moment she steps into Jesus' arms. The doctors are hesitant, understandably, to estimate how long Mom has left here but they're saying a handful of weeks or perhaps even days. So many variables play into that, not excluding what God can and might do. Mom could be with us a while longer than that, but we don't want her to linger here, suffering, just to satisfy our selfish desire to keep her with us a little longer. So we're asking God to take her home when He wills, and we know He knows best.
I ask your prayers for strength in coming days, and a special request for my dad as he faces the reality of letting Mom go. They celebrated their fifty-fifth wedding anniversary in March, and he can't fathom what life will be like without her, and doesn't want to. Below is a picture of them together taken at their last visit to our home in Nashville this spring.
My parents, Doug and June
I'm so grateful to you, friends, for your loving support in recent weeks and months. Your notes and emails, your shared stories of having walked a similar road with one, or both, of your parents, have brought me comfort. God is gracious and full of mercy, and my family and I are resting in Him.
I'm with her in the hospital now, spending our last night here together, and I'm watching her sleep, so incredibly grateful for the woman she is and the mom she's been to me for almost forty-eight years.
Heaven is already sweeter knowing she'll be there soon, and my family and I look forward to the day when we'll be there with her.