Finishing Her Race

I once started a blog called The Race, and, unfortunately, only made one introductory post. I had good intentions. That one post was well thought out, though, and I encourage you to read it, as it serves as one of my foundational beliefs about this life. I do believe that life begins and ends in God, even with life's mysteries, and many unknowns (I'm ok with not knowing everything), but the post just referenced is not "religious" in nature. Why do I want you to read it first? As I begin to write about my deceased wife and the mother of my children, I want everyone to know that while I miss her dearly, and don't understand completely the "why" questions surrounding her early departure from my and my children's lives, I do believe she finished her race well, and that, to me, is her testimony and impact left on our lives. So, please take the time to read that one post, and come back.

I met my wife in Taiwan. Her Chinese name is Wu Mei Huei. In Chinese culture the last name is first, so her maiden name is Wu and first name Mei Huei. Mei means "beautiful", and Huei means "wise". I can attest to both. They do not have middle names like we do. After marrying this white guy, her name became Mei Huei Wu Warner. Her English name that she had chosen before I met her was Lydia, but we just called her Mei Huei, pronounced May Hu-ay (strong “h” sound like in hay, but add the “u” directly after it. 

Beginning With The End

Since April 1 just passed, I begin with the end. Mei Huei’s last day on earth was actually April 2, even though she died shortly after midnight of the 1st. I will never, ever forget April 1, 2002. The day before, March 31, was Easter Sunday. It is one of the few times every so often that Easter falls in March, which, I assume is due to the lunar calendar.  About two or three weeks earlier Mei Huei’s situation took a turn toward a definite direction of what hospice informed us were the signs, or stages, of dying.  One of the first signs for her was a stark loss of weight in a short period of time, even though she had been gradually losing weight. She had gotten down to 78 lbs. Another sign was loss of leg use. By Easter Sunday she had not been able to walk for a couple of weeks. However, on that day, while we were at church and she was at home alone with her sister (here with us from Taiwan), she not only walked outside for some fresh air, but ate a whole meal of salmon and rice -- the first real meal she had been able to eat and keep down for 4 months. I wish I could have been there, but I am glad she shared that moment with her sister. Later, we learned that when the body is on it’s last stretch it often gets a surge of energy and strength. Regardless, she was full of smiles, and happy to tell us about her walking and the meal when we returned home. We celebrated by eating ice cream, which she also kept down. What a great Easter gift.

The next day, April 1st, we all woke up as normal, the two older kids went off to school, and Mei Huei and I started going through our routine, when she suddenly felt her breathing get shorter, almost gasping for air, and her heart racing, what seemed like double the normal heart rate. We put her on oxygen, and she told us to go get the kids out of school because she was dying and wanted to tell them goodbye. She spent 15 - 20 minutes with each one,  still with short breath and racing heartbeat, chatting, cuddling, laughing with them, and, soon afterwards, her breathing almost abruptly went back to normal and her heart rate slowed to normal. I can still picture her laying in bed with each of my children, the younger ones not really grasping the gravity of the moment. When she was feeling fine again she looked at all of us and said “April Fools. I’m not dying today!”.  She didn’t see me walk out of the room in tears. 

Later that evening I had to go teach a class at UTA, and right before I left she informed me she was tired and was going to take a nap. I closed the blinds, kissed her, and left her in the care of my sister and her sister, 100% expecting to see her when I got home. When I got home at 9:30 or so, the kids were in bed, and she was still asleep. I walked in quietly in the dark and laid down next to her. She was breathing kind of heavy, and I decided to wake her, calling her name quietly. She didn’t wake, I spoke a little louder, and she still didn’t. Finally, I turned on the lamp and she was laying there, eyes open, breathing haltingly, and not responding. She had slipped into a coma. I immediately went to get my sister and her sister. We called my mother, a few close friends, and last-hour prayer was offered up for her. I couldn't believe the time had come.

(I have to insert here, that for the 2 years since her diagnoses, I, and for the most part Mei Huei, kept a positive, hope filled outlook that she could be healed and overcome this. Others had survived cancer, and we thought she could, too. We prayed for healing, and did everything we could (except chemo, which did not show to help much with stomach cancer, and not even recommended by our oncologist when I asked him “if your wife were in the same situation as Mei Huei, would you advise chemotherapy?”).  More details of the whole ordeal from diagnosis, to natural/alternative treatments, her remission, etc. is for another time. Suffice to say, we did not really begin to accept death as imminent until about 2-3 weeks before she died.)

As we prayed and waited, her breath got slower and slower and her heart beat fainter. She breathed her last breath somewhere around 12:45. I really don’t remember exactly. She died pain free, and before falling asleep for her nap she had all her senses and mind. I remain to this day very thankful for this, and believe it is because of all the natural therapy and absence of chemo in her body that destroys more than just cancer cells when administered. I fell asleep around 4 or 5 AM and woke later with the task of telling my kids their mother had just gone home. I took them to our favorite park where we had gone many times with Mei Huei, and told them mom had died in the middle of the night. Wow, it seems just like yesterday, and now my oldest is going on 18. Going to the park that day is one of the few memories they recall distinctly. It seems that selective memory is a type of survival mechanism we humans employ on the emotional level so that we can go on, especially in childhood. 

Well, these are the facts of her last day. What did I feel, or think? In a sense, I was numb, and in another sense, relieved, and glad she was with her Creator and God. It had been a long three years since first signs of illness, waking up every morning with the uncertainty of what that 'enemy" inside her body was doing, or going to do next, all while taking care of 4 kids under 6 years old. We literally lived day by day. After she died, everyone left the room and I was there, alone, staring at her, and even talking to her for 10-15 min. I don’t even remember what I said. It took me a long time, even occasionally years later, for it to sink in at the emotional level that she was never coming back--that I would never see her again in this life. I learned that grief needs time. 

That, was my April Fools Day in the year 2002, and what I remember vividly every April Fools Day. Each year my memory is actually less sad than one might imagine, for what I remember most is that she DIDN'T die on April 1st, and her sense of humor when she looked at us and said "April fools. I am not dying today!".  Her last words to me as she closed her eyes to take the "nap" mentioned above were "Blair, always have a grateful heart". She died well! She finished her race, at home, at peace, pain free, with loved ones surrounding her. 

(Pictures coming in next post)

Check out her obituary and Memorial Guest Book online. It's a great tribute to her still their after all this time. It is, apparently,  supposed to stay online "forever". Keep www.legacy.com in mind for your loved ones as a great enduring memorial.  Feel free to sign in and write something.

Blessings!

By Blair Warner