I'll re-live these days every year, most likely for the rest of my life. It was the most heart-wrenching joyous occasion I've ever experienced. Heart-wrenching for me, joyous for him. I would be lying if I were to even attempt to say that it is not heavy on my mind on this night, the eve of the anniversary of my dad's death.
A large part of our state had experienced a very bad snow storm over the weekend. However, what followed the storm was even worse. Not only were we covered in snow, but we now were dealing with extremely low temperatures, colder than what any of us were used to with wind chills that made it unbearable. I am pretty certain that Alaska was warmer than Ohio during this week. My dad would have gotten a kick out of knowing that he left during this weather, as if to say that he most certainly had had enough and was completely done with this crazy Ohio weather. I have always hated cold and snow for two reasons; one because I was cold-blooded and always freezing and two because it's how my daddy taught me to think. In our house when I was growing up, snow was a bad word.
When Hospice called the family in for my dad, I was stuck at my home almost three hours away. I was devastated that I could not be by his side. I had spent the previous three years running down to my hometown, Portsmouth, Ohio every time he would take a turn for the worse. When I was at my house and not able to be by his side I was calling Hospice nurses and family members to check up on him and see how he was doing. He had always said that he did not want to live in a miserable state, but circumstances made him live for three years in misery. Now it was time for him to be called home to Heaven and finally be out of misery and because of horrible weather, I was not going to be able to hold his hand one last time and tell him goodbye. It was all that I wanted.
Finally there was a break in the weather, roads were cleared, and I was able to make the trip to be by my daddy's side. I could not get there fast enough. I do not remember much about the trip, only that I had to get down there. Finally, after a very long, exhausting trip, I arrived and joined my daddy as he lay on what would be his death bed.
I had prepared myself for what I would see. I had seen people in their final stages of life many times before, but there is just something different when the person you are looking at is the person that you had looked up to your entire life. As I entered the room I saw a shell of a man. He was no longer coherent nor did he wake up at all. His body was there, sleeping, but my daddy was already gone.
Two nights before he died, my dad saw his welcoming party into the spiritual realm. We watched as the man who had previously done nothing but slept opened his eyes. But his eyes weren't open to the world around us, rather the world that he was about to enter. There was a joy that surrounded my dad that I had never seen before. He looked straight above him constantly and held a huge smile on his face. There were times that he lifted his body in a way that was not humanly possible. The last traces of his man's strength had left his body weeks ago, yet he was lifting himself out of bed. He was not lifting in a normal way, but straight up instead. I am certain that my dad saw Heaven that night, Jesus along with his parents and possibly many others were welcoming him home, no one can ever convince me otherwise. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my entire life.
The days were full of visiting with old friends and long-lost family members. It was so good to see them all again and spend time with them. We sat and talked, we laughed about old times, it was a wonderful time of reminiscing. But it was always in the back of my mind that we were there for another reason; it was all too real that any minute we would be rushing to my dad's bedside to hold his hand as he drew his final breathes.
That moment came on Wednesday afternoon. My husband and my daughter were on their way to join us and they arrived just in time. By the time that they walked in, the rest of us had already gathered around dad, we were all well aware that his time on this earth was complete. We watched as his breathing slowed and finally stopped. I remember watching his chest slowly move up and down, then stop, then slow a few more times. They had warned us that he could stop breathing for a time then start back up. His nurse had told me to count between breaths and that it could be up to twenty seconds before the next. That is exactly how it happened. First it was about five seconds, then ten, then twenty, and finally, there were no more breaths taken. I sat by his side the entire time, held his hand and counted his breaths, maybe he had done the same for me as I entered the world that he was now leaving.
My world would never be the same. My daddy was gone. We had been through so much in life; so many ups and downs, but it was all over now. He was gone. Yet I could still praise God. Thought my dad was no longer here with me, I knew that he was still ok. He had entered Heaven. He was with Jesus and all of our loved ones who had already gone before him. He was finally out of the pain and misery that he had been forced to endure for so long. He was ok. I hold on to that and have a great peace when I think of him. I praise God for my dad. I praise God that He allowed me to make the trip and be by his side as he died. I praise God that one day I will go and be by my dad's side again. He is waiting for me and it will be a wonderful reunion. As I used to sing in church while standing beside my daddy, "When we all get to Heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be!" I look forward to that day. Until then, I love you and miss you daddy.
Larry Bussa January 1, 1947- January 29, 2015
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Friday, April 24, 2015
What About "Her"?
There is a great debate raging in our country... no, in our world. Each side of this debate screams their point of view with great emotion. They bicker back and forth, picket certain events, even get laws changed every once in a while which sparks even more furious debating. Unfortunately, however, most people are missing some very important aspects that go a little further than a simple "choice". Like the proverbial "Can't see the forest for the trees" problem, many lives are being devastated from this debate and not just the ones that you might think.
"It's my body, my choice!" some say. "No one has the right to tell me what I will or won't do!" This side have opted to name themselves "pro-choice". They proudly scream to the world that abortion should be legal and no one should have any problem with it because what one does with their own body is not the business of anyone else. I used to believe this. I always said "Well, I would never have an abortion myself, but why should anyone say that another shouldn't do it?" Sadly, I found out in a very personal way just why this "choice" was more than simply deciding which pair of jeans I would wear on what day.
The other side of the debate is just as emotional; if not more. This side is known as pro-life. They believe that life begins in the womb and that every life should be protected and considered precious from the very beginning. These people work hard showing others how abortion is wrong and offer better options so that these women can see that they can go on with their pregnancy and that things will all be ok. This is very precious work that I have great respect for. I have been there with women as they find out that they are pregnant and have no clue what they will do. I have seen the fear in their eyes and showed them love and courage instead. I have known many women who have made the choice to continue their pregnancy and not one of them have ever said that they wished they had chosen abortion. However, as we get into this debate, we need to see that there are some important people that we are forgetting.
I'm sure that immediately you are thinking, "That's right, you're forgetting about the baby that's been aborted! What about that life?" Yes, that life is precious and needs to be remembered. However, that is not the life that I am talking about in this post. Please do not get me wrong, every single baby needs to be fought for and is very important, but there are other precious lives being forgotten. The mother. I've heard the arguments, "Well she chose to kill her child, I hope she hears those cries for the rest of her life!" Trust me, she does!
The pro-choice crowd says that abortion is just a choice and that a woman has every right to do it, but offers no help when she does. She is supposed to show up on that dreadful day, have the abortion, then go on with normal, everyday life. But guess what, there is no "normal" anymore. She is now a mother without a child. For all of eternity, she will always be a mother, but will never have pictures, stories of childbirth, beautiful memories of a child. She has only regret. Guilt. Shame. She probably left the abortion clinic feeling relieved, maybe she thought "problem solved!" but it is not long before these other feelings creep into her life. The even bigger problem, who can she go to?
People sometimes have a hard enough sharing their problems with others, even close friends, but how does "she" tell someone that she allowed a doctor to take her baby from her and that she feels bad for it? The world is always saying that it's ok so why does she feel so bad? If she does try to say something, she might get a well-meaning friend to say "oh sweetie, I'm so sorry you feel bad, but you know it was probably better off anyway!" This is not helpful either. This childless mother hears her baby's cries every night. She wonders if her baby felt the abortion. She wonders if her baby would hate her for what she did. She looks at all other children and wonders what her child would have looked like. She is no longer ale to commit to any relationship because she does not feel worthy. She believed the lie that the abortion would fix everything, but now she knows that it did not. She has no idea how to continue on with her life, and there is no one around to help her. She has no child, no hope, nothing but guilt and shame; and no where to go.
I have been there. Even though I once said that I would never have an abortion, one day I chose to do just that. I felt relief at first. Until the day I realized what I had done. I have nine children. Six are living. One I aborted and two miscarriages. I now understand that three of my children are living in heaven waiting for me to join them. But I also understand that I am forgiven. I now know that this was no an unpardonable sin and that there still can be a wonderful life after such a horrible situation. I spent many years in guilt and shame. Telling no one, but feeling dead inside. I know how the post-abortive woman feels because I am "her". There are many more women out there like me who are suffering terribly and fighting a world who has no place for them. It is my passion to show "her" the beauty of life after guilt and shame. In a world that forgets "her" for the fight at hand, I want "her" to know that she is loved and that she can see her child again. I want to teach "her" to live again. Other than serving my God and my family, this is my heart's desire and I am filled with so much passion for helping "her". For those who have been beaten down by this world and this fight; left out in the cold because she has served their purpose and they no longer need her, I will stand and help "her" up. Will anyone stand with me?
"It's my body, my choice!" some say. "No one has the right to tell me what I will or won't do!" This side have opted to name themselves "pro-choice". They proudly scream to the world that abortion should be legal and no one should have any problem with it because what one does with their own body is not the business of anyone else. I used to believe this. I always said "Well, I would never have an abortion myself, but why should anyone say that another shouldn't do it?" Sadly, I found out in a very personal way just why this "choice" was more than simply deciding which pair of jeans I would wear on what day.
The other side of the debate is just as emotional; if not more. This side is known as pro-life. They believe that life begins in the womb and that every life should be protected and considered precious from the very beginning. These people work hard showing others how abortion is wrong and offer better options so that these women can see that they can go on with their pregnancy and that things will all be ok. This is very precious work that I have great respect for. I have been there with women as they find out that they are pregnant and have no clue what they will do. I have seen the fear in their eyes and showed them love and courage instead. I have known many women who have made the choice to continue their pregnancy and not one of them have ever said that they wished they had chosen abortion. However, as we get into this debate, we need to see that there are some important people that we are forgetting.
I'm sure that immediately you are thinking, "That's right, you're forgetting about the baby that's been aborted! What about that life?" Yes, that life is precious and needs to be remembered. However, that is not the life that I am talking about in this post. Please do not get me wrong, every single baby needs to be fought for and is very important, but there are other precious lives being forgotten. The mother. I've heard the arguments, "Well she chose to kill her child, I hope she hears those cries for the rest of her life!" Trust me, she does!
The pro-choice crowd says that abortion is just a choice and that a woman has every right to do it, but offers no help when she does. She is supposed to show up on that dreadful day, have the abortion, then go on with normal, everyday life. But guess what, there is no "normal" anymore. She is now a mother without a child. For all of eternity, she will always be a mother, but will never have pictures, stories of childbirth, beautiful memories of a child. She has only regret. Guilt. Shame. She probably left the abortion clinic feeling relieved, maybe she thought "problem solved!" but it is not long before these other feelings creep into her life. The even bigger problem, who can she go to?
People sometimes have a hard enough sharing their problems with others, even close friends, but how does "she" tell someone that she allowed a doctor to take her baby from her and that she feels bad for it? The world is always saying that it's ok so why does she feel so bad? If she does try to say something, she might get a well-meaning friend to say "oh sweetie, I'm so sorry you feel bad, but you know it was probably better off anyway!" This is not helpful either. This childless mother hears her baby's cries every night. She wonders if her baby felt the abortion. She wonders if her baby would hate her for what she did. She looks at all other children and wonders what her child would have looked like. She is no longer ale to commit to any relationship because she does not feel worthy. She believed the lie that the abortion would fix everything, but now she knows that it did not. She has no idea how to continue on with her life, and there is no one around to help her. She has no child, no hope, nothing but guilt and shame; and no where to go.
I have been there. Even though I once said that I would never have an abortion, one day I chose to do just that. I felt relief at first. Until the day I realized what I had done. I have nine children. Six are living. One I aborted and two miscarriages. I now understand that three of my children are living in heaven waiting for me to join them. But I also understand that I am forgiven. I now know that this was no an unpardonable sin and that there still can be a wonderful life after such a horrible situation. I spent many years in guilt and shame. Telling no one, but feeling dead inside. I know how the post-abortive woman feels because I am "her". There are many more women out there like me who are suffering terribly and fighting a world who has no place for them. It is my passion to show "her" the beauty of life after guilt and shame. In a world that forgets "her" for the fight at hand, I want "her" to know that she is loved and that she can see her child again. I want to teach "her" to live again. Other than serving my God and my family, this is my heart's desire and I am filled with so much passion for helping "her". For those who have been beaten down by this world and this fight; left out in the cold because she has served their purpose and they no longer need her, I will stand and help "her" up. Will anyone stand with me?
Thursday, January 29, 2015
It was a year...
It was the end to a long three year (at least!) battle. The battle kept him weary and miserable for far too long; yet he continued to fight. He fought harder than anyone I've ever seen and all for those that he loved. However, now we were at the end. It was only a matter of time and we all knew it. So like I had done so many times in the previous three years, I rushed to his side, a long three hour drive with nothing but my fears and my thoughts. When finally I arrived, I walked in the door of that room and stood by his side one final time. I held his hand and said "I love you daddy, it's alright, we will all be ok, it's ok to let go and go see Jesus."
As we sat in that little room, preparing for the inevitable, I watched as many friends and loved ones came. They walked in to say their goodbyes to dad and to give their condolences to us. Precious time was spent with many loved ones that I hadn't seen in many, many years. In a way, it was a good time to be able to visit with them and talk about old times. I know that if my dad had his wits about him, he would have enjoyed it immensely and sat talking and laughing with us. To those precious people, you know who you are, I would like to say thank you so very much. I will cherish those memories for the rest of my days.
Then things began to happen. Suddenly, my dad had his eyes open! But it was obvious that he was not in our world. His eyes, though vacant before, had a different look to them now. He was not looking at us, but clearly was looking at something amazing! There was nothing but joy on his face and he kept them straight ahead, only looking up to the ceiling. He smiled, constantly! We watched in awe as my dad tried to lift his body upward toward the ceiling. Not in a way, however, that any of us would lift our bodies to get up; no this was different, it was unexplainable and amazing. His eyes shone and his face had nothing but peace and joy surrounding it! There are no words that can describe to joy of this night! I not only believe, but have no doubts that my dad was seeing Jesus, Momaw and Popaw (his parents) and so many others who had already gone before him. They were standing at the gates of eternity telling him "Come, your time on earth is done. There are so many wonderful things awaiting you here!" No one will ever convince me otherwise and I cannot wait to experience that for myself!!
After this wonderful experience, other spiritual things happened. My dad had slipped back into his deep sleep as his body continued to complete the shut down process. We watched a spiritual battle take place at this point. I will not go into many details on this, though I feel as if I could write an entire book on it. I feel that, at this point, it should stay in my mind alone. I am not sure why I feel this way, but I will obey the conviction. I will, however say that it did happen. I could almost see, and I could certainly feel the angels and the demons fighting over our peace in that room that night. It was scary and (maybe because I'm just a little crazy!) exciting in a way too. I knew that there were spirits fighting over my dad and for our peace, but I also knew that the battle had already been won! My dad's soul was going to Heaven, there was no changing that. I would have peace about it because I was sure of this and understood that dad was going to be better off. The spiritual battle was won and we just had to wait. I get excited thinking about it and it gives me such peace to continue on with the hurt and struggles that I have to continue on with as I complete my days on earth.
Everything was complete now. The spiritual battle had taken place, my dad had gotten his, quite obviously, dramatic invitation to complete his journey and enter Heaven. We had all said our goodbyes and my dad was just ready to be done with the pain that is associated with this life. So at some point in the afternoon (I think it was, time had no meaning to me during these days, all that mattered was being the for and with my dad.) the nurse came in to check my dad's vital signs. She gave an "it's about time" look and turned to me. She told me, "It won't be long now, I can't find a blood pressure." These words were both heart-breaking and exciting. But still, like before, all we could do was sit and wait.
I had settled down to attempt to work on school work. My wonderful sister had let me borrow her laptop so I could get some work done. Being a college student at this point was very difficult. I did not want to think of anything but my dad. This was not a problem for long. About ten to fifteen minutes after I began working on my school, my dad started going into some sort of a seizure. I will never forget this, yet I cannot explain it either. I had seen people have seizures before, but somehow this was different. We gathered around his bed and held his hands. It was at this point, in God's perfect timing, that my husband and my daughter walked into the room. I could not go to them, I was not going to leave my dad's side, but I was so glad to have them there with me. Dad's breathes became very far apart. At first it was three seconds between each breath. Eventually it became farther and farther apart. I remembered his Hospice nurse telling us certain numbers that it could reach between each breath, so I started counting. Finally, after a deep breath and then blowing out a breath, the counting got longer and longer. I made it to twenty and still no next breath. I looked at my dad, then I looked at my sister. She mouthed the words "Is he gone?" I simply shook my head. The nurses came in and checked and said "He's gone."
I have never in my life been so heart-broken and so relieved. My world just changed forever. I no longer had my dad here on earth. I spent many years having him here and not speaking to him, but now that option to just call him up one day was gone. But thanks to God there is good in even death. My dad's earthly story was over, but his eternal life had just began! He was no longer in pain. He doesn't have to worry about pain or struggles any more. Difficult people are no longer a concern for him. He just gets to dance in Heaven with Jesus and all of those whom he loved that had gone before. Death for the human is hard. It is scary, painful and just seems wrong with our finite minds. But death for the Christian is amazing! I miss my daddy so much. So may days I have picked up the phone to call him. I think of him daily and miss him. I see his eyes in my children. I remember things that we did together and ask Jesus to tell my daddy hi for me. I will never see him again while on this earth. Yet I have hope and peace about his passing because I know that he is happy and at peace. I praise God for that, for the peace only comes from God. As I sit today and remember that day, 365 days ago, I miss my daddy, but I Praise God that I can be excited to see him again one day.
That day will come for me eventually, and I will say goodbye to my husband and my children and all of my loved ones. Hopefully they will read this and remember that it is ok. For once my time is gone here on this earth, I will join my dad and other loved ones in being in the precious of the mighty God who saved us and who raised us and brought us to His eternal home to worship Him for eternity. Bye daddy, I love you and miss you so much. I'm so sorry for all the times I didn't do what I should. But I can't wait to see you again one day. But even in my heartache, I can only say one thing. Thank You Lord and I praise You for the hope and peace that can only come from You!
As we sat in that little room, preparing for the inevitable, I watched as many friends and loved ones came. They walked in to say their goodbyes to dad and to give their condolences to us. Precious time was spent with many loved ones that I hadn't seen in many, many years. In a way, it was a good time to be able to visit with them and talk about old times. I know that if my dad had his wits about him, he would have enjoyed it immensely and sat talking and laughing with us. To those precious people, you know who you are, I would like to say thank you so very much. I will cherish those memories for the rest of my days.
Then things began to happen. Suddenly, my dad had his eyes open! But it was obvious that he was not in our world. His eyes, though vacant before, had a different look to them now. He was not looking at us, but clearly was looking at something amazing! There was nothing but joy on his face and he kept them straight ahead, only looking up to the ceiling. He smiled, constantly! We watched in awe as my dad tried to lift his body upward toward the ceiling. Not in a way, however, that any of us would lift our bodies to get up; no this was different, it was unexplainable and amazing. His eyes shone and his face had nothing but peace and joy surrounding it! There are no words that can describe to joy of this night! I not only believe, but have no doubts that my dad was seeing Jesus, Momaw and Popaw (his parents) and so many others who had already gone before him. They were standing at the gates of eternity telling him "Come, your time on earth is done. There are so many wonderful things awaiting you here!" No one will ever convince me otherwise and I cannot wait to experience that for myself!!
After this wonderful experience, other spiritual things happened. My dad had slipped back into his deep sleep as his body continued to complete the shut down process. We watched a spiritual battle take place at this point. I will not go into many details on this, though I feel as if I could write an entire book on it. I feel that, at this point, it should stay in my mind alone. I am not sure why I feel this way, but I will obey the conviction. I will, however say that it did happen. I could almost see, and I could certainly feel the angels and the demons fighting over our peace in that room that night. It was scary and (maybe because I'm just a little crazy!) exciting in a way too. I knew that there were spirits fighting over my dad and for our peace, but I also knew that the battle had already been won! My dad's soul was going to Heaven, there was no changing that. I would have peace about it because I was sure of this and understood that dad was going to be better off. The spiritual battle was won and we just had to wait. I get excited thinking about it and it gives me such peace to continue on with the hurt and struggles that I have to continue on with as I complete my days on earth.
Everything was complete now. The spiritual battle had taken place, my dad had gotten his, quite obviously, dramatic invitation to complete his journey and enter Heaven. We had all said our goodbyes and my dad was just ready to be done with the pain that is associated with this life. So at some point in the afternoon (I think it was, time had no meaning to me during these days, all that mattered was being the for and with my dad.) the nurse came in to check my dad's vital signs. She gave an "it's about time" look and turned to me. She told me, "It won't be long now, I can't find a blood pressure." These words were both heart-breaking and exciting. But still, like before, all we could do was sit and wait.
I had settled down to attempt to work on school work. My wonderful sister had let me borrow her laptop so I could get some work done. Being a college student at this point was very difficult. I did not want to think of anything but my dad. This was not a problem for long. About ten to fifteen minutes after I began working on my school, my dad started going into some sort of a seizure. I will never forget this, yet I cannot explain it either. I had seen people have seizures before, but somehow this was different. We gathered around his bed and held his hands. It was at this point, in God's perfect timing, that my husband and my daughter walked into the room. I could not go to them, I was not going to leave my dad's side, but I was so glad to have them there with me. Dad's breathes became very far apart. At first it was three seconds between each breath. Eventually it became farther and farther apart. I remembered his Hospice nurse telling us certain numbers that it could reach between each breath, so I started counting. Finally, after a deep breath and then blowing out a breath, the counting got longer and longer. I made it to twenty and still no next breath. I looked at my dad, then I looked at my sister. She mouthed the words "Is he gone?" I simply shook my head. The nurses came in and checked and said "He's gone."
I have never in my life been so heart-broken and so relieved. My world just changed forever. I no longer had my dad here on earth. I spent many years having him here and not speaking to him, but now that option to just call him up one day was gone. But thanks to God there is good in even death. My dad's earthly story was over, but his eternal life had just began! He was no longer in pain. He doesn't have to worry about pain or struggles any more. Difficult people are no longer a concern for him. He just gets to dance in Heaven with Jesus and all of those whom he loved that had gone before. Death for the human is hard. It is scary, painful and just seems wrong with our finite minds. But death for the Christian is amazing! I miss my daddy so much. So may days I have picked up the phone to call him. I think of him daily and miss him. I see his eyes in my children. I remember things that we did together and ask Jesus to tell my daddy hi for me. I will never see him again while on this earth. Yet I have hope and peace about his passing because I know that he is happy and at peace. I praise God for that, for the peace only comes from God. As I sit today and remember that day, 365 days ago, I miss my daddy, but I Praise God that I can be excited to see him again one day.
That day will come for me eventually, and I will say goodbye to my husband and my children and all of my loved ones. Hopefully they will read this and remember that it is ok. For once my time is gone here on this earth, I will join my dad and other loved ones in being in the precious of the mighty God who saved us and who raised us and brought us to His eternal home to worship Him for eternity. Bye daddy, I love you and miss you so much. I'm so sorry for all the times I didn't do what I should. But I can't wait to see you again one day. But even in my heartache, I can only say one thing. Thank You Lord and I praise You for the hope and peace that can only come from You!
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
I Tried to Call You Today...
I picked up the phone to call you today. I didn't really want much; I just was going to say "hi" maybe "how are you" and definitely "I miss you and sure wish I could see you and give you a great big hug". This feeling happens to me often. I think of how great it would be to talk to you, even if only for a few minutes. I remember how many talks we used to have and how I cherished spending time with you.
It is after this feeling that the hurt comes. For it is at this time that I remember that I am not able to call you because there are no phones in Heaven. You have left this world and moved on to the next one. You are in eternity while I am stuck here missing you. The hurt that comes is not an "ouch" type of a hurt. There are not external scars or any visible signs at all. It is all inside. It is a feeling that starts with the heart being crushed under a ton of weight followed by a feeling of what is left of my heart falling down into the pit of my stomach. I ache in ways that I never knew were possible.
When a bone is broken, it can be re-set and a cast put on until it heals. When the skin is cut so deep or wide that it will not heal, stitches or staples can be applied to ensure proper healing. Even a small cut can be taken care of with anti-bacterial medicine and a band aid. But this hurt, the pain of a lost loved one, there is no cure. No fix will make it better or go away. Time might ease the pain a bit but the hole in my heart will never be replaced no matter what I or anyone does.
While there is no cure for the pain, there is hope for the wounded. Two simple words can answer all my hurt; BUT GOD. You are with Him now and I will see you and Him one day. Until then all that I have to cling to are His words. Philippians 4:19 tells me that " And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Holman Christian Standard Version). How can I remember this? Philippians 4:6 tells me "Don't worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God" (Holman Christian Standard Version). He is what I can lean on. As hard as it is, I'm praising Him for being my rock, my strength and my shield.
It is after this feeling that the hurt comes. For it is at this time that I remember that I am not able to call you because there are no phones in Heaven. You have left this world and moved on to the next one. You are in eternity while I am stuck here missing you. The hurt that comes is not an "ouch" type of a hurt. There are not external scars or any visible signs at all. It is all inside. It is a feeling that starts with the heart being crushed under a ton of weight followed by a feeling of what is left of my heart falling down into the pit of my stomach. I ache in ways that I never knew were possible.
When a bone is broken, it can be re-set and a cast put on until it heals. When the skin is cut so deep or wide that it will not heal, stitches or staples can be applied to ensure proper healing. Even a small cut can be taken care of with anti-bacterial medicine and a band aid. But this hurt, the pain of a lost loved one, there is no cure. No fix will make it better or go away. Time might ease the pain a bit but the hole in my heart will never be replaced no matter what I or anyone does.
While there is no cure for the pain, there is hope for the wounded. Two simple words can answer all my hurt; BUT GOD. You are with Him now and I will see you and Him one day. Until then all that I have to cling to are His words. Philippians 4:19 tells me that " And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Holman Christian Standard Version). How can I remember this? Philippians 4:6 tells me "Don't worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God" (Holman Christian Standard Version). He is what I can lean on. As hard as it is, I'm praising Him for being my rock, my strength and my shield.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Ten... Twenty... Thirty... ... ...
My dad, Larry Bussa, has spent a lot of years in misery for a number of reasons. He suffered loss of very close loved ones from a very early age including the death of his own father when he was only 12 years old, all the way through his life; including the death of his mother, a brother and a son. As most of us, he never really was able to handle the passing of such close loved ones. Like we all struggle with, my dad was hurt by many people and he made some bad choices and paid dearly for those mistakes. But the last three years of his life have proven to be the most miserable for him and all that love him.
Dad had been in poor health for a very long time; but 3 years ago, his health started to decline drastically. He had known that his liver was failing and he knew that his heart was not in good shape. He was in pain from previous back surgeries and numerous other issues. But then they found cancer. Dad was so worn out, but he continued fighting. Staying true to being the trooper that he was, he fought the cancer. Surprising everyone who knew him (including the doctors!) he had surgery to remove the cancer and fought hard to get rid of it. It worked... for a little while.
After the fight with the cancer, dad's liver issues began to become an even bigger problem. Mostly because of this, he entered into Hospice while we watched helplessly as he slipped further and further into another world. He would have good days, but then he would have very bad days. We never knew when the last would be. Every time he got bad, we would assume the worst and fear that he was gone. There were so many times that I would get the news and rush down to where he lived. The entire three hour drive I would be praying that I could make it in time to hold his hand as he passed. So many times, I would get there in time for him to perk up and "come out of it" and he would "get better". We knew he really wasn't getting better but there sure were many times when he would seem like it.
These times when he would "come out of it" and seem to get better proved to be bittersweet. I lost count of the times both me and my sister would say "I don't want him to die but he is so miserable and it just breaks my heart to see him in such misery!" I would look in his eyes and see the pain and suffering. It dug deep into my heart and just shattered it. There comes a time when a person realizes that there is only one way to end the suffering and that one way has got to be better than what we have here.
One day his hospice nurse said that it might be time for me to make the trip down to see him again. Thanks to the gentle nudging from my husband, I made the arrangements and headed down south once again. Some how I knew that this would be my final trip to visit him. This was verified in my heart upon walking into his room and seeing him. His breathing was labored and he was non-responsive. His eyes would open periodically, but it was obvious that my dad was no longer there. Day one came and went and it became clear that it was a wise choice to bring an over night "just in case" bag. The only place for me at this time was to be with my dad.
Day two there were not many changes. He opened his eyes even less and we knew that he was slipping away. I had only packed my "just in case bag" for one night, but I knew I could not leave his side. My husband, my mom, and my mother in law all reminded me that this was where I was supposed to be. I made a quick trip to the local Wal-Mart and got some necessities and decided I was not leaving. I am sure that this was the nudging of an awesome God who had me there for a reason.
That night dad opened his eyes. But he was not looking at any of us. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. He looked straight to the ceiling with the most peaceful and amazed look I had ever seen on the man's face in my life. He had no strength to lift his finger, but somehow was trying to lift his whole body straight out of his bed, but upward. He smiled a smile that was out of this world. It wasn't a normal look, or a normal smile it was something that was completely of a different realm. I believe with all of my heart that we were allowed to see that to give us peace; and it did just that for me. I knew that my dad's time on this earth was done and that he would finally be out of pain; he would finally be happy, healthy and at peace. He hadn't had that in so long, but it was coming for him. And I knew that it was coming soon.
Through-out the next day I watched as things slid down hill. He had began to "mottle" which is what the Hospice nurses had been looking for to show that the time was near. He also developed some strange (to this day still unknown) black spot on his eye. Eventually, (and time seemed to not matter those three days, so I have no idea what time of day it even was), the Hospice nurse came in and stated that she could not find a blood pressure and that it would not be long. We all settled in, watching, waiting, trying to just deal with what was happening. Then, all of the sudden, he started to shake. It wasn't a seizure, but that is the best word that I can use to describe it. He opened his eyes once after this. Much to our surprise, the spot on his eye that we had discovered earlier was completely gone. This still baffles us all, including the nurses.
In God's perfect timing, while dad was having this "seizure" my husband and daughter walked in. I sat on his bed, holding his hand, while my sister and my step-mom sat on his other side. All of these years I had prayed that I would be able to be there for my dad and hold his hands as he passed. It meant the world to me. I weighed heavily on me as I sat and watched. God in His goodness was granting my wish. He was allowing me to be with my daddy. I would not have wanted to be any other place.
I counted the seconds between his breathes. I had read of all the things that could happen. I knew that there could be periods of time between breathes of up to 20 seconds. So I counted. For the past three days his breathes had been 3 seconds apart. Now all of the sudden, there would be five seconds between breathes. Then it would go back to 3 seconds for a short period of time. Then ten, then back to three. Finally we got to twenty seconds. Then he breathed again. Then nothing for another twenty seconds, then another breath. Next, after another twenty seconds, there was a breathe but it was different, it was more of breathing out instead of breathing in. Somehow I knew that this was his last breath. I squeezed his hand and, in my mind, whispered "bye daddy, I love you." Then I went back to counting. As before, I tried to count to the normal intervals, realizing I was holding my own breath at each second. 3... 5... 10... 20... 30... my sister looked at me a mouthed "is he gone?" I simply shook my head, "yes".
All of his years of pain and suffering was finally over. He was no longer hurting, no longer sad, no longer in misery. My dad, Larry Bussa, was granted peace from this life and full entrance into a much better and completely amazing realm on Wednesday, January 29, 2014. I cannot wait until one day I can join him there myself. I know that one day, like him, I will go there and be with Jesus, and my dad, and so many other loved ones that have gone before me. While I miss him terribly, and can be sad that he is gone, I cannot be sad that he is there. He is finally at peace. He is happy. Until that precious day when I join him, I am left with these simple words, "Bye daddy I love you and miss you. I will see you again one day!"
Dad had been in poor health for a very long time; but 3 years ago, his health started to decline drastically. He had known that his liver was failing and he knew that his heart was not in good shape. He was in pain from previous back surgeries and numerous other issues. But then they found cancer. Dad was so worn out, but he continued fighting. Staying true to being the trooper that he was, he fought the cancer. Surprising everyone who knew him (including the doctors!) he had surgery to remove the cancer and fought hard to get rid of it. It worked... for a little while.
After the fight with the cancer, dad's liver issues began to become an even bigger problem. Mostly because of this, he entered into Hospice while we watched helplessly as he slipped further and further into another world. He would have good days, but then he would have very bad days. We never knew when the last would be. Every time he got bad, we would assume the worst and fear that he was gone. There were so many times that I would get the news and rush down to where he lived. The entire three hour drive I would be praying that I could make it in time to hold his hand as he passed. So many times, I would get there in time for him to perk up and "come out of it" and he would "get better". We knew he really wasn't getting better but there sure were many times when he would seem like it.
These times when he would "come out of it" and seem to get better proved to be bittersweet. I lost count of the times both me and my sister would say "I don't want him to die but he is so miserable and it just breaks my heart to see him in such misery!" I would look in his eyes and see the pain and suffering. It dug deep into my heart and just shattered it. There comes a time when a person realizes that there is only one way to end the suffering and that one way has got to be better than what we have here.
One day his hospice nurse said that it might be time for me to make the trip down to see him again. Thanks to the gentle nudging from my husband, I made the arrangements and headed down south once again. Some how I knew that this would be my final trip to visit him. This was verified in my heart upon walking into his room and seeing him. His breathing was labored and he was non-responsive. His eyes would open periodically, but it was obvious that my dad was no longer there. Day one came and went and it became clear that it was a wise choice to bring an over night "just in case" bag. The only place for me at this time was to be with my dad.
Day two there were not many changes. He opened his eyes even less and we knew that he was slipping away. I had only packed my "just in case bag" for one night, but I knew I could not leave his side. My husband, my mom, and my mother in law all reminded me that this was where I was supposed to be. I made a quick trip to the local Wal-Mart and got some necessities and decided I was not leaving. I am sure that this was the nudging of an awesome God who had me there for a reason.
That night dad opened his eyes. But he was not looking at any of us. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. He looked straight to the ceiling with the most peaceful and amazed look I had ever seen on the man's face in my life. He had no strength to lift his finger, but somehow was trying to lift his whole body straight out of his bed, but upward. He smiled a smile that was out of this world. It wasn't a normal look, or a normal smile it was something that was completely of a different realm. I believe with all of my heart that we were allowed to see that to give us peace; and it did just that for me. I knew that my dad's time on this earth was done and that he would finally be out of pain; he would finally be happy, healthy and at peace. He hadn't had that in so long, but it was coming for him. And I knew that it was coming soon.
Through-out the next day I watched as things slid down hill. He had began to "mottle" which is what the Hospice nurses had been looking for to show that the time was near. He also developed some strange (to this day still unknown) black spot on his eye. Eventually, (and time seemed to not matter those three days, so I have no idea what time of day it even was), the Hospice nurse came in and stated that she could not find a blood pressure and that it would not be long. We all settled in, watching, waiting, trying to just deal with what was happening. Then, all of the sudden, he started to shake. It wasn't a seizure, but that is the best word that I can use to describe it. He opened his eyes once after this. Much to our surprise, the spot on his eye that we had discovered earlier was completely gone. This still baffles us all, including the nurses.
In God's perfect timing, while dad was having this "seizure" my husband and daughter walked in. I sat on his bed, holding his hand, while my sister and my step-mom sat on his other side. All of these years I had prayed that I would be able to be there for my dad and hold his hands as he passed. It meant the world to me. I weighed heavily on me as I sat and watched. God in His goodness was granting my wish. He was allowing me to be with my daddy. I would not have wanted to be any other place.
I counted the seconds between his breathes. I had read of all the things that could happen. I knew that there could be periods of time between breathes of up to 20 seconds. So I counted. For the past three days his breathes had been 3 seconds apart. Now all of the sudden, there would be five seconds between breathes. Then it would go back to 3 seconds for a short period of time. Then ten, then back to three. Finally we got to twenty seconds. Then he breathed again. Then nothing for another twenty seconds, then another breath. Next, after another twenty seconds, there was a breathe but it was different, it was more of breathing out instead of breathing in. Somehow I knew that this was his last breath. I squeezed his hand and, in my mind, whispered "bye daddy, I love you." Then I went back to counting. As before, I tried to count to the normal intervals, realizing I was holding my own breath at each second. 3... 5... 10... 20... 30... my sister looked at me a mouthed "is he gone?" I simply shook my head, "yes".
All of his years of pain and suffering was finally over. He was no longer hurting, no longer sad, no longer in misery. My dad, Larry Bussa, was granted peace from this life and full entrance into a much better and completely amazing realm on Wednesday, January 29, 2014. I cannot wait until one day I can join him there myself. I know that one day, like him, I will go there and be with Jesus, and my dad, and so many other loved ones that have gone before me. While I miss him terribly, and can be sad that he is gone, I cannot be sad that he is there. He is finally at peace. He is happy. Until that precious day when I join him, I am left with these simple words, "Bye daddy I love you and miss you. I will see you again one day!"
Monday, January 20, 2014
God's Plan for Joshua
Sometimes a soul can even fulfill their purpose before they are even born. Such is the case for a young one named Joshua Daniel who died when he was just 17 weeks in his mother’s womb. His mom feared for her own safety because of his father so she decided she only had one choice; to keep herself and his older brother safe, she chose to have an abortion so she could safely break away from this man. She loved him and didn't want to do this, but felt she had no choice. So one October morning she drove to a hospital and Joshua's precious little life was over,
Even though he was physically gone, God's plan for his life was just beginning. His mother never stopped thinking about him. Though this was her "choice" she never stopped loving him. God started speaking to her, he used this awful event (along with others) to show her that she needed Him. He wanted her to give her life over to Him. While sitting alone at a Christmas play that very same year, she agreed with God that she needed him and gave her life to Him.
Things started changing quickly for Joshua's mommy. One night, she was at a concert where the artist was singing a song about a baby who had been aborted. It was a very sweet song with a wonderful message, but Joshua's mom felt nothing but guilt. All she could think of was that day that he died. She felt such guilt and shame that it literally took her breath away.
With the help of a good Christian man (who later became her husband and daddy to Joshua and all his siblings) she learned to give this guilt and shame to God. God took her pain and began to use it for His own glory. She helped start a local Bible study where God allowed her to show others His forgiveness and grace. God allowed her to use this one very short, precious little life to show so many other people who God is and how He can take even the worst of situations and use them for His glory. He took this one little boy’s death and used it to help many other people, including his mommy.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Numb
I am the type of person that holds everything in. I am the strength for everyone else, so I never let out my burdens because that would mean needing strength from someone else. Deep down I wish that I could let it all go to someone, but usually it's more of just exploding every once in a while. I guess this is safe to let it out here because I'm pretty sure that no one even reads my blog anyways. If you are reading this, please feel free to comment and let me know. I would love to know that someone actually does read this :)
I haven't been able to post for a while, but I really would like to start posting daily. I have been extremely busy lately. On top of my every day craziness, I have been driving back and forth to help take care of my dad and my grandpa (who I will from now on refer to as Popaw, because that is what I have always called him) who were both dying. I had the pleasure of getting to go see him last Friday. Things worked out just perfectly for me to make the trip, so I did. I am certain that this was a gift from God. He passed away early the next morning. This past week has been a heart-wrenching journey.
It has been wonderful being able to see family members that I haven't seen in a very long time. I have missed them all greatly and was very happy to be able to see them and catch up a little. My kids had never even met two of my cousins who I consider my little brothers because I lived with them during my teenage years. I love them so much and they mean the world to me but the live in Alabama and I live in Ohio and we just don't get to see each other anymore. So that part was nice.
But Popaw's funeral, ugh! This man was my hero. I always considered him more of a father figure than a grandpa. I just plain adored him, as did anyone else who ever met the man! He was truly an wonderful man. I know that he was in pain and is now in Heaven and I praise God for that and cannot wait to see him again one day. But selfishly, I am sad. I miss him.
I thought that I would be ok with this because he was in so much pain, but I am taking it even harder than I expected. I just can't seem to get back into life.
I guess there will need to be a part two to this, as with anything else, life calls, it is time to go to a ball game...
I haven't been able to post for a while, but I really would like to start posting daily. I have been extremely busy lately. On top of my every day craziness, I have been driving back and forth to help take care of my dad and my grandpa (who I will from now on refer to as Popaw, because that is what I have always called him) who were both dying. I had the pleasure of getting to go see him last Friday. Things worked out just perfectly for me to make the trip, so I did. I am certain that this was a gift from God. He passed away early the next morning. This past week has been a heart-wrenching journey.
It has been wonderful being able to see family members that I haven't seen in a very long time. I have missed them all greatly and was very happy to be able to see them and catch up a little. My kids had never even met two of my cousins who I consider my little brothers because I lived with them during my teenage years. I love them so much and they mean the world to me but the live in Alabama and I live in Ohio and we just don't get to see each other anymore. So that part was nice.
But Popaw's funeral, ugh! This man was my hero. I always considered him more of a father figure than a grandpa. I just plain adored him, as did anyone else who ever met the man! He was truly an wonderful man. I know that he was in pain and is now in Heaven and I praise God for that and cannot wait to see him again one day. But selfishly, I am sad. I miss him.
I thought that I would be ok with this because he was in so much pain, but I am taking it even harder than I expected. I just can't seem to get back into life.
I guess there will need to be a part two to this, as with anything else, life calls, it is time to go to a ball game...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)