Blessed. I really can't think of any other way to put it. I am incredibly blessed and I am very, very grateful.
This week has brought a couple of anniversaries to the forefront in my life. Neither involves me, but at the same time, my association with these two anniversaries is undisputable.
This past Monday, the 13th of January, was the birthday of M's mother, Blanche Rickman Horsman. She passed away in 2018 at the age of 97. If she were still with us today, she would be 104. She was during her lifetime, and still is in our memory, an incredible woman.
I first met her in early 1999. M and I met in Arkansas on October 4, 1998. Yes, I still remember the date. It was just a couple of months later that Marilyn brought me to Alabama to "meet the parents." Her folks were delightful, and Miss Blanche especially wanted to know about "my people," my parents, grandparents, my job, education. I never felt threatened in anyway, but I felt she wanted to make sure I was a suitable mate for her oldest daughter.
I think it helped that Marilyn's folks grew up in Randolph County, Arkansas, which is the same county my mom grew up in. Miss Blanche knew some of my family and we would talk about people we both knew. It was a common thread we both enjoyed.
One thing I remember from those days when M and I were "vetting" each other, was her talking so much about her mother and her Grandma Rickman. After hearing M tell stories about the two, it was obvious to me she was cut from the same cloth, and I found that very attractive, very desirable if you will. It was plain to me that M and her mother were both the type of woman that was written about in Proverbs 31. They, along with Marilyn's Grandma Rickman, were/are women of noble character.
I sincerely cannot put into words how grateful I am for not just marrying Marilyn, but the entire Rickman/Horsman family. It makes life so much easier knowing everyone in your wife's family is pulling for you and praying for you. I am sure my two brothers-in-law, Mike and Stan, who are married to Marilyn's sisters, Paula and Millie, would say the same thing.
Jumping forward a couple of days to Wednesday the 15th. It was my mom and Tom's 15th anniversary. Tom of course is my step-father. He and mom married not too long after my dad died of cancer in 2008.
To put their relationship in a nutshell, Tom was the last person my mom dated before she met my dad. In fact, Tom, who was in school at the University of Missouri, thought he was still my mother's boyfriend while Mom, who was at Harding College, was dating my dad. I know, TMI. Suffice to say, they had a history when they got married. Tom's wife had died of cancer just a few months before my dad did. It did not take a genius to see where this story was going.
The twilight years have been kind to the two of them. They are both 88, my mom being a month older than Tom. The love they share, is a resumption of what ended way back in 1954. They are fun to watch, whether talking, teasing each other, telling stories on each other, they are good together.
But things are changing, and it is tough on both of them. Tom has some dementia. Fortunately, it is not bad. He no longer drives, lets mom handle his medicine and pay the bills. He will forget faces and names of people he knows. It's tough to watch. But he loves my mother. He has said to her, "don't ever leave me," Mom promises she is not going anywhere, that she is there for the duration, whatever it may be.
That is what I want to focus on with my mother. Her taking care of the ones she loves.
My Grandpa Dalton was my favorite. It is his fault I have a love of baseball. I got that from him. I also got from him high blood pressure. Even when I was young and much lighter, I had high blood pressure. Fortunately it's under control. As my friend Steve Hatch back in Arkansas once told me, "better living through chemicals." I like that. But my Grandpa Dalton did not have the advantages of medicine that I enjoy. He had his first stroke in 1967. He was 55. There were other strokes, some bigger some smaller. He eventually died of a massive heart attack in February 1973. He was 60. I was 15.
Those last five years, I saw my mom, and her mom (Granny, the great cook) take care of Grandpa. I would frequently go to their house with mom, (they lived just around the corner) and watch ballgames with grandpa. He liked that. It calmed him. I liked it as well. Granny worked, so Mom, who was not working at the time, took care of her daddy. I was young, but my brother and I saw love in action. My mother taking care of her parent.
Fast forward to 2003. My granny has married a man named Truell Johnson. We all worshipped together at the Overland church in St. Louis in the 1960's. I have already told you about my grandpa, and Truell's wife also passed away a few years later. They lived in Pocahontas, Arkansas, where M and I met, and enjoyed their golden years together, traveling a lot, something they both enjoyed doing.
In 2003, it was discovered Truell had brain cancer. There really wasn't much the doctors could do, and he died in September 2004. Again, Mom was there to help Granny. Granny was capable, but she liked having "Sis" as she called my mom around, and Mom did whatever she could. A lot of drives to the doctor in Jonesboro, an hour each way, trips to St. Louis, doing laundry, helping nurse Truell. Mom had a lot of experience with my grandpa, and she was putting it to good use with Truell.
It was January 30, 2008 when the word came that dad had a spot on his lung. Further scans over the next couple days revealed he had spots on his brain and on his spine. Dad was 72, and the doctors said he had 60-90 days.
He fooled them. He lived 21 months before dying in October 2009. I am convinced he lived that long, defying the odds because of two things. The fervent prayers lifted up on his behalf, and the in-home care he received from my mom.
Dad had a couple of hospital stays, but he never went to a long-term facility. He died at home, in his own bedroom that he shared with his wife of 53 years.
Tirelessly for those 21 months Mom did everything she could to make Dad's life easier. It wasn't always easy. For either one of them. But as she once told me during a rare down moment, "it is a privilege to take care of your father." I am convinced that only a woman described in Proverbs 31 would make such a statement.
Now we come to Tom and his struggles. This is her fourth round of caregiving. It is harder, she is not young anymore, there is a limit to what she can do. But as I mentioned earlier, she has promised him she will not be abandoning him. I believe her.
It is an incredible thing to be witness to two such strong women. Two women, who in all things put God first. I think we can all learn from that.
Blessings my friends
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