This Time, the Change Is Real
January 05, 2025
A year ago today, I posted on this blog. My first post in 4 years. I noted how I was struck that inspiration always (and only?) strikes in January, through no planning or effort of my own, and here we are yet again. Full disclosure: 2024 was unusual: I doubled my post count for the year by composing a June review of the Battle of Pavia Tapestries exhibit at Fort Worth’s Kimbell Museum (which subsequently moved on to San Francisco; this was a MAGNIFICENT exhibit!).
The new year is perfect for reflecting after the holidays when things finally settle down and give way to normalcy. Not so much this year, however. After losing my wife’s sister’s husband to cancer 4 weeks ago, my wife’s mother passed away on Friday. She was 81. It can be said of her passing that she is truly in a better place, having been in a hospice bed in the bedroom of her own home for the past 13 months. Something kept her hanging on, until she no longer could.
It seems to be a common thing, people getting through the holidays and then letting go, and there are obvious reasons for why this happens. With Jane, she was a fighter with seemingly nothing left to fight for, who proceeded to fight for 13 months after being sent home in early December 2023 with no hope to live. Christmas 2023 was a long shot; really, looking back, she was given no shot at all. But as she continued to live and we continued to care for her, knowing she would never be able to sit up on her own, let alone get out of the bed, each day became a gift. If we are honest, we can say that we did not always look at it in those exact terms, at least not every minute of every day that we spent with her. It’s hard. It’s inconvenient. It’s hopeless. It puts the lives of the caregivers on hold, be it for a week or a month or a year.
And then, slowly then suddenly, it happens. Then, and only then, are we afforded the luxury of looking back with nothing but thanks, feeling above all, grateful. Grateful for her life, grateful for her death, and grateful for her renewed life with her Lord and Savior.
Thank you, Nana.