Leaving On A Jet Plane

At airport. Going home. NYC, that is. July 26th. That feels like ages ago. On that day I was flying in to Louisiana- in a completely different place. Now, I leave over 60 days later - completely different.

I am excited to go back home. More than ready to resume a routine. Find some order. Create some stability. But, leaving is bittersweet. This whole experience feels epic. Like comething out of a movie. And, why do we equate larger than life experiences to that of a movie, something fictitious? Perhaps, feeling this larger than life
is life.

I've learned much. I know I have much much more to learn still. I'm grateful. There were unexpected moments in this trip that felt 'cinematic', too. There were the intense family dramas that led to bigger family revelations. There were the rediscovered friendships that bloomed at just the right times. There were more losses, but never as large as the BIG one. There were many victories. Victories in spirit and growth. Comfort zones were stripped bare. Every part of me became vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. Every part of me became new soil. Unearthed. Now ready to be tended.

And, that's a revelation that I felt yesterday. Instead of obsessing over how to continue my journey, how to process it, how to craft it into something- I became reacquainted with my biggest lesson of all- Absolute Surrender.
Instead of crafting something out of all of this, I have chosen to allow myself to be crafted.

It is liberating to realize this. Takes the pressure off. In surrendering, I can find complete freedom.

I Pray In the Tub

There are just days before I leave. Back to my urban home. I miss it. Very much. But, I must say that anxiety is creeping upon me. Anxiety about leaving. I leave behind so much.

If told in advance that I would be spending a great portion of this year HERE in the south doing what I've done, I would have to been dragged kicking and screaming clawing anything within reach. Fortunately, I did not get that memo- hence, a bit more grace on my part. Coming home (Louisiana) always resurrects old and deep demons for me. Turbulence. Haunting remnants of the past. Very alive ghosts. Coming home always required much of me, much preparation, much prayers for strength.

And, though this trip has been the most painful of them all- I discovered hidden treasures. The beauty of true friends. The kind of friends that show up and are THERE when you need it- giving so freely gestures that do wonders for my spirit. Visiting with family and really listening to their stories- their trials, their triumphs, loves lost and gained. Being around for birthdays and gatherings. Eating so much comfort food that you are filled to the brim. Hearing distinct styles of talking only native to this region. Being pulled and called to slow down. Slow down with everything. Waiting in line, strolling, taking it easy. Watching sunsets unobstructed over fields and fields and fields.

All my senses are on fire, especially the ones unavailable to the naked eye. I don't know quite what to do with all of this raw feeling. Its not comforting to feel exposed. But, I feel I need to embrace all of this vulnerability. The only thing is- I hope to make good decisions out of this place. The kind of bold ones that people may question, but you feel secure about because they come unhinged and with absolute honesty. Because you are so exposed to your truest self underneath it all.

I suppose I should allow room for mistakes. Its just that mistakes now come at too high a price. Normal failures that I could shrug off carry much more of a blow because I am so weary.

So, I said a prayer. In the bathtub. I've been praying alot in the bathtub these days and will probably pray myself to sleep. I prayed for God to send me everything I need to get through this time. Strength, naturally. But, much more. I asked for the confidence to trust my instincts. I invited people in my life who will not require much from me but offer themselves freely and tenderly. I prayed to be equipped with an arsenal of supplies I'll need for these heavy days. Those supplies could come in the form of good movies, songs designed just for me, or just good company. I welcome it all. And, I told God that I expect all of this and more. Because it is a good thing to ask and an even greater thing to receive. Because it would be something he (and she) desires. So, I ask knowing it will come. Bountiful. In waves and waves and waves.

I prayed this. And, I feel calmer. I'll sleep tonight in the sea of this knowing.

One Bad Move...

So, the Big Move didn't go so well. Last minute, there were cancellations. I had a breaking moment. Fortunately, things and people came together. Though the move extended to an extra day, it got done. We are finished.
It was surreal cleaning the final touches to mom's apartment, mopping ourselves out.

Family tensions still brew. Anxiety rampant. Its been too long. Too much. Fighting for mom. Often fighting with each other. Needing family and also being around family too much. Big decisions. Little decisions. Huge consequences. Exhaustion beyond comprehension. Curve balls left and right. Always something.

Yesterday was bad. Another familial eruption. That was it for me. I'm done. Can't offer any more. I've reached my max. I'm there. A bill that I had was taken out of one of my accounts inappropriately. Had to make phone calls to clear it up. That was like running a marathon. I'm spent. So much to do, I can't even sit and grieve! Guess I have a lifetime for that. I'm one bad occurrence from a mental breakdown.

I wrote last night in my journal what I want. I want to be away from here. I want to exist elsewhere, preferably not in the physical world. Somewhere beyond. I want to exist in a time where mom is neither died nor is dead. I want everyone I love and care about to be content, but not necessarily near me. I want to be away. No responsibilities. No obligations. Wearing no masks. Near no one asking me how i feel. No one telling me 'your mother isn't suffering anymore'. I want to be away from people. Or, if there is people- let them require nothing of me. Just be there. I want to go where I can be raw and vulnerable in the presence of all things tender. I want to just be. Not even be myself. I'm a wreck. I want to just BE.

I want life to let me be.

The Big Move

Today should complete the big move of furniture remaining in mom's apartment. It will be a relief once that is done. It has been such a big hurdle. Next, we work on selling mom's car. After that, I look forward to using my last week in town just visiting friends and family. Good things to look forward to. My brother-in-law has a fight (boxing) this coming weekend. My sis, bro-in-law, and nephew will come up to NYC for a a week. That will be nice.

I miss home (NYC), but I know I will miss here. I'm a creature of habit and fell into a exhaustive, but regular routine here. Soon, it will be time to say good-bye to that, as well.

So many goodbyes.

Weary

Today has been tiring. But, then again, every day has been tiring. So, that is a given.
Today begins one moving session. With luck, mom’s apartment will be cleared by Monday evening.
One less thing.

Taping boxes, I broke. I don’t want to do this anymore. Sifting through her things. Old things I haven’t seen since I was a kid. Little items sent from afar. Unexpected findings that meant something to her. Thousands of pictures. It’s a knife slowly pushing in, reminding me as I push through, “She is not here”. Only her relics. Torturous. I want to be done.

Yet, I don’t. The more I clean, the more I sift, it brings me closer to the end. Another ending. The ending of ‘going through her stuff’. Then there will be the ‘clean of her apartment’. Then the last look around with the closing of the door and the returning of the key. That leads to finishing up her other affairs. Then making my rounds of visits. Then a goodbye to her grave. Then, a departure. Everything is perishing around me, ending. It hurts so much.

How do you want to run from where you are and stay at the same time?

But, I believe in cycles. Everything is cyclical. So, with endings, there are beginnings. The endings now are sure, definite, no going back. But, the beginnings? They are mysterious and foreign boxes to wrapped in huge questions marks. I hope to find some solace soon. I'd settle for sleeping for three weeks straight.

A Letter To Mom

People have asked us to post the letter we wrote to mom that we read during the Eulogy. With my sister's permission, I post:

A Letter To Mom

Dear Mom,
You once told us that you believed that God knew the struggle that you were going to have with illness. So, in order for you to prepare for that path, he sent you two angels to accompany you on your journey. We love you for saying that, but we do believe in another story.
Two young girls became empowered women when they learned through their mother how to value what truly matters in this world. We are so thankful for you always being in our corner, creating opportunities for us when it seemed to others that there were none,
loving us without boundaries, and for making sacrifices for us that we will never fully know.

With that said, please know this from us:
It was an honor to clean you, comfort you, care for you, and hold your hand in times of doubt.
It was an honor to pace hospital floors, searching, praying, and fighting for you in ways you could not.
It was an honor to be at your side and hold your hand when you took your last breath.
It will always be an honor to have known you. To continue to know you as we grow.

You have inspired us to grow from girls to the women we are now. Because of our journey together, we have learned that:
We are not our bodies; they are just instruments for our use.
Many No’s will lead to Yeses.
Humor, A smile, and eternal optimism can melt the iciest of hearts.
Add cream of mushroom soup for a great crawfish etouffee.
That all things in life are transient and life’s true gift is being able to surrender to the moments, Here and Now

So, we hope you can see Mom, how we believe our story to be different.
God sent YOU to US as an angel so that we might be able to live and breathe your story.
That we let it pour into who we are and what we offer the world.
We hope to make you proud because we are so proud of you.
We rejoice that you are liberated from your body.
We know that your spirit is free. Free from confinement. Free from suffering.
Now that you are free, we would like to ask of you…

Please watch over us. Be with us.
Be with us when we take our walks.
Be with us when we have more babies.
Be with us when we love again and when we lose again.
When we face adversity and when we relish in our triumphs.
When we rest and when we are still.
Be with us Always.
And, please make the journey back to this earthly world
To come and get us
When it is Our Time.

More...

People have asked me if I will continue to write for this blog. I hadn't thought of it. The Funeral signified the end. But, perhaps, there is more. So, continue to check this blog if it so interests you. I write for myself. But, if sharing contributes more to someone else's journey...I will welcome that. Jennifer and I would like to receive everyone's address and phone numbers. We would like to send out thank you cards. Plus, it would just be nice to have family and friend information. Please feel free to email them to me at heatherkpierre@gmail.com .

Funeral Information

Thank you to all who have followed my mother’s journey. Thank you for all of the prayers, words of encouragement, and help. While Jennifer and I continue on our journey through grief, celebration, and cultivating a connection to being present, we will continue to post more.

Mom’s Funeral will be held on Friday, September 11th.

St Anthony Church
600 Madeline Avenue
Lafayette, LA 70501

The Viewing will occur at 8am.
The Rosary will begin at 9:30 am.
The Funeral will begin at 11 am.
Burial Site is at Calvary.
Reception is at Holy Rosary Gym (down the street from Calvary)

Flowers can be sent to Syrie Funeral Home. We are told that you can send flowers easily through their website, www.syriefh.com . Once at the site, look on the left hand site and click Obituaries. She is under Violet Ann Mouton Pierre. We welcome all flowers, but are particularly partial to Violet colored flowers because of moms namesake or Mom’s favorite color, Blue.

Donations can be made through Mom’s website, www.violetpierre.blogspot.com .

Mail can be sent care of Hilaria Broussard (my grandmother) at:
300 Rubria Street
Lafayette, LA 70501

Again thank you to all who continue to pray for our strength.

Newspaper Obituary

Violet Ann Pierre, age 54, died at LGMC September 5th, 2009 after a courageous and triumphant journey with illness. She was a devoted mother and a well-known vocalist. Violet’s singing skills were greatly treasured throughout the great state of Louisiana and beyond. After relocating to Louisiana in her teenage years, she traveled with siblings and her father singing second soprano at weddings, funerals, galas, parties, and more. Her voice was often referred to as “angelic”. She was daughter of famed musician Curtis Mouton and Louisiana native Hilaria Broussard. Violet was also a graduate of Holy Rosary Class of ‘73’ and studied music for two years at what is now known as the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. She was very creative and active in her children’s schools, volunteering for arts and crafts projects and fundraisers. She is survived by her mother and two daughters, Heather Pierre and Jennifer Scypion-Pierre (Wilford). Her surviving siblings include: Charles Tony Mouton, Margaret Elise Mouton, Sonja David, Curt Mouton Jr., and Jude Mouton. She also has one grandson, Wilford Scypion Jr. The viewing and funeral will be held at St. Anthony Church in Lafayette on Friday, September 11th, 2009. Services begin at 7am and the funeral will begin at 11am. Flowers can be sent to Syrie Funeral Home at www.syriefh.com . For more information, visit www.violetpierre.blogspot.com .

In honor of her a special prayers was written:
When I walk along a path and I am uncertain, I search for you.
When my heart is weary and I do not understand, I listen for you.
When I am scared and I am cloaked in doubt, I rest in you.
When I am still and silent wrapped in fields of violet, in that quiet, I know
You live in me.

Moms At Peace

Early this afternoon, Aunt Elise, Little Will, and I came to the hospital to relieve Jennifer from her night shift. I parked the car. Aunt Elise and the little one came in first. By the time I came in, Jennifer told me that mom's breathing had change. Became more rapid when she sensed people were in the room. Her eyes were open. I went to hold her hand. I read in the Hospice information that you should pay attention to all changes, even the slightest- especially the breath. When I held her hand and head to talk to her, her left eye started tearing up. Tears flowed from that one eye has I held and talked to her. We all told her how much we loved her.

While everyone sat to eat, I stayed holding her. Jenn was glad we were here to talk to her because she had a good half hour talking to mom earlier in the morning. I told her all of the things I could think that I wanted to tell. How I was so blessed to have her as a mother, how I loved her so much, how I feel honored to resemble her because she's so beautiful. I told her that I'm proud of her and that she is so strong. I wiped her tears. Told her that I saw them. Told her that I will always be her "Papaya". She used to call me that as a child. Then I got close to her and told her, "Mom, if you choose to go, we will understand. If you choose to say, we will understand that, too! We are following your lead. For the first time in your life, think of yourself and what you want. We will be fine. We love you."

After that, things change quickly. Her breathing started to even out. They became more shallow. Every inhale, I watched with passion. Waiting. I felt her last breath could come. When the breaths became fewer and farther between, I became anxious. I called Jennifer. As soon as Jennifer touched the bed, Mom took her last breath. The Three Musketeers. That's what she used to call us. We were all together.

We told the little one that MuMa's an angel now. He says, "But, she don't have her wings." We told him that she gets them later.

This Morning

Written This Morning

“I want MuMa to wake up. I want MuMa to feel better.”
This is what my nephew tells me this morning as we enter Mom’s apartment so that I could dry some clothes. I want that, too. With the state of mom, Jenn and I have learned to not dare to0 much investment in the future. We don’t know what will happen two days from now, lest 2 hours. Staying in the moment is helping us to stay grounded. However, every now and then, when little Will refers to mom, Jennifer and I share this knowing feeling. This is a feeling of dread. How will we tell him? I have my own moments where I’m overwhelmed with the rush of reality. This usually happens as soon as I open my eyes upon waking. “Mom is dying” is the first thought that greets me when I open my eyes. You are supposed to get much rest and take care of yourself when you are taking care of someone else. But, I can’t help but find myself procrastinating going to sleep to avoid opening my eyes later to this same reality.
Today, mom’s sister will sit with her during the day. We’ve fallen into rhythms. Patterns that find us as we adjust to new circumstances. Now, our days consists alternating nights sleeping in mom’s room and spending the morning with her. Mom’s sister (Elise) sits with mom during the day. The other daughter takes over the next night. The room is small. It takes a kind of grace to maneuver in such close quarters. But, then again, everything about this journey takes a little grace.
While Aunt Elise sits with mom today, Jenn and I will take the little one to a birthday party today. It’s at a bowling alley. Will deserves some fun. Some colorful distraction. Much needed.

Hospice

Hospice has officially signed on. And, here is what we can share with you.

Mom will remain in room 533. We could not get the bigger room on the Oncology floor due to infection risks. She will be receiving more pain medicine.

It looks like Jenn and I are moving in the direction of removing all medications except the pain medicine. This includes nutrition. We received a wealth of material today that we have to read. It is educating us about what we may expect and soothing some fears about some reservations that we had. We have been very hesitant to remove nutrition because it felt like we would be 'starving' mom. But, we are learning as we read and speak with Hospice that "food holds tremendous emotional, social and cultural significance in our lives". And, especially being southern girls we feared the impact of depriving a loved one of food (comfort). We are learning that supplying nutrition now may be counterproductive. Our bodies digest food using various organs and the process may become complicated when everything is not functionally properly anyway. Often times, at this stage, a person is not 'hungry' nor 'thirsty'. Also, we must follow the lead of mom. Whatever she needs, we provide. Whatever she does not want, we eliminate.

There's much more we have to encounter. And, we try to do this with grace. We have much to read and more to discuss. But, we are hanging in there. Surrendering. Being Present. With love.

Morning Comes

Its 9am. Mom is still here and resting. Her night went pretty smooth. We could agree that the pain pump is assisting her comfort greatly. Jenn and I meet with the Hospice folk in a half hour. We will learn more about aiding our mom's comfort.

Steps Closer

Mom has what is called ‘weeping wounds’. Because of the fluids in her body, she will leak from any wound. She has been positive for VRE and Pseudomonas (types of infections). She may have MRSA, but we are not certain. If you should visit, please make sure you use the blue gloves and wash your hands before and after you put them on. Do this even if you do not touch her.


We have a meeting with Hospice tomorrow morning. The purpose- to introduce us to options we have not encountered. It is counterproductive to have more on antibiotics when there is a stop order for baths. They can offer us a halt to all things intrusive. The stop of vital signs regularly, lest that irritate her rest. They can potentially deaden areas of her body so she feels no pain if we need to do a gentle wipe for her body. Because the chronic team places the patients comfort first, they recommend the halt of antibiotics and follow the lead of the patient. For that, I have unending respect and adoration for these people in this profession. Tomorrow , we will discuss more. If we make it till tomorrow….

She is more lucid today. She spoke to her sister and told her that she was dying. She said she saw the Lord. Also, she said that she saw her father and he told her that he is coming to get her tonight. She also says that she is not afraid. We rejoice in this news. We want her to be out of suffering. We want her to be at peace. And, the bonus factor of her fearlessness- that is a blessing so wonderful that it is hard to put into words. For now, it can only be rejoiced in the heart.

Pain Pump

Mom will receive a pain pump. It can be pressed every 6 minutes. Every hour she can get a new wave of pain medicine. Hopefully, this steady stream of pain relief will grant her much physical peace. Mom will remain in the bed she has now. We were told it might better serve her needs. We are fine with that. The thought of her bed transfer gave us some anxiety. As long as she rests peacefully, we are content.

Just now, I gave her some 'ice chips', tiny cubed crushed ice. She was very grateful and said 'Thank you' over and over again. Jennifer will spend the night.

Thanks to Cousin Belinda and Stage. Thank you Mrs. Flugence for your constant support, near or away. Also, special thanks to Father Arceneaux for coming and praying with us all. Much gratitude to Michele from Hospice for her diligence and compassion.

Rough Night

Mom had a rough night. Around 10pm, she was transferred into a air pressurized bed. She was fearful of the transition and crying with anxiety. Once moved, she had some rest for about a half hour. However, that was how her rest continued for most of the night. At most, she would have half hours of rest. But, then they were followed by pain, moans, and often incessant "Oh God" laments. Sometimes, I would put my hand over hers and try to talk encouragingly to her. A couple of times that helped and she fell back asleep. Sometimes I would pray. Sometimes I would just lay and in my mind, yell at God. At one point, I went to adjust her bed. The area where her legs were seemed deflated and the nurse had showed me how to adjust the machine. I hit the wrong button and it turned the whole bed off. Then Mom was in more pain saying that it was from the bed. I rushed to have the nurse come. She came with someone and with a push of a few buttons they restarted the bed. That bought another half hour of relief. I had to call the nurses station twice just for them to change IVs due to the incessant beeping. The nurse was great in coming faithfully every 2 hours on the dot to provide pain medicine.

I don't know how anyone truly rests at hospitals with pages happening so often, constant beeping, people busting into the room loudly and throwing the light switches on. At 7:45, a physical therapist came in to move mom while she rested. I sat up and looked at him and said, "She is not receiving PT, we are doing everything we can so that she is comfortable." He gave me a look of understanding and said that he would go check her chart.

Shortly after that, change of shift time occurred and nurses came to change moms sheets- a grueling and painful process. She also used the bathroom so they had to clean her. Fortunately, my sister came in around that time to relieve me from my post and was able to aid the transition. Exerted by the pain, once covered and clean, mom started to rest.

A nice woman (who we have met before) came to visit us from Hospice and Palliative Care. Her purpose is to ensure moms comfort. She is considering giving mom a pain pump that she can press at her leisure every 6 minutes. It maxes out during the hour, but resumes its new level at the new hour. Her concern was that moms new bed may be causing her more pain. They are working on seeing if they can score her one of the ICU beds. ICU owns their particular beds and they are just for ICU. So, if we were able to score one or one like theirs- that would be its own blessing. The wound care people came at the request of the Hospice woman. They wanted to gauge the level of her wound so that they can make an assessment as to how to alleviate its pain. We were told they may be able to deaden the area. But, she has been resting so well, we didn't want her to be disturbed yet again. I think the wound care duo felt this concern and did not push turning her over to see it. Fortunately, we have chronicled moms journey with pictures and Jenn had the most recent bedsore picture taken a few days ago in her phone. We sit now and wait to see the status of the bed, the plan for pain medication, and the action plan for the wound.

She Rests For Now

Mom is in room 533 on the fifth floor. Should you visit, be sure to wear the protective blue gown and blue gloves to ward off spreading or receiving bacteria.

She rests now. I will stay the night. She had several visitors this evening. She wants people around her. She was upset when she was alone earlier this afternoon. So, Jenn and I will take shifts so that there is no laps of time where she is alone. We welcome visitors. She speaks and is responsive though not every thing she says is sensible. But, she is very aware of people in the room. So, feel free to come and tell her how much she means to you.

At this moment, I am writing from the pullout bed next to mom's hospital bed. It is surprisingly large and comfortable, this little surprise- a mini blessing. Besides my laptop, the glow from the bathroom door provides the only light. Soothing jazz melodies play amidst ocean waves from a cd we have playing in the background. Mom's breaths are even. Though I do not know what tomorrow morning brings or the next hour even, I am very content to be here. In fact, there is no other place on Earth I'd rather be now.

Though I am still, I can't promise that tonight there will not be tears shed on the pillow that was brought from my grandmother's house. I am learning to allow myself the right to truly feel whatever it is that I feel in the moment. And, I continue to offer up all those things that I feel that are rooted in fear and hand them over to a Higher power, in hopes that those offerings eases my mother's journey.

Today Begets Another Journey

Yesterday evening, my sister had a change of heart. Mom's blood pressure dropped as expected when she was taken off her meds. We waited. We were told that once the drugs reached their half life, she might fade quickly. We sat next to her and held her hands. One of us on each side. And, we waited. And, it was painful. ICU let us break the rules and stay there all day. But, then she opened her eyes and began talking. Mostly incoherent mumble. We had sung songs to her while she rested, one of them "Raindrops keep falling on my head...". She came to and asked for raindrops. She wanted them on her head. She cried alot. Sounded confused. Her speaking and being responsive is an unusual with her blood pressure that low. Even the nurses found it peculiar. But, that has always been Mom. Defying odds. Jennifer felt strongly that it was a sign to resume her medications. For without the medications, it meant sure imminent death. Her organs would begin to fail. With the medications, she at least stood a fighting chance. And, though we had agreed earlier in the day to aid her decline, mom's speaking became a gift- and to Jennifer- a sign. I deferred to Jennifer to make the call. I was against resuming her meds. Even if she were to pull through, I asked myself, "At what cost? What would be her quality of life?" These were concerns for Jennifer, as well, but she felt that at least if mom passed, it was not due to us depriving her of a stepping stone. And, Jennifer wanted to be heard. So, I listened to her. And, I deferred the call to her- mostly for her. And, I thought, "I have no problem eating humble pie and being wrong if this turns out differently then expected." So, mom's medications resumed.

Mom pulled through the night. Her pressure is higher, though nowhere near stable. I slept in later, heavy. I opted to go to the 1pm visit rather than the morning. Jennifer went to the 9am. She spoke with Doctor Del Toro. Without the meds, he said she would die 100%. With meds, she is 80% certain to die. It just may take days rather than hours. Jenn thanked him for his diligence. He said he imagined mom as if she were his mother and what he would want to do if that were the case. To mom's sheer delight he wrote a prescription for 'no more baths'. These have been painful experiences, hellish experiences she would dread twice daily. He also asked her if she needed anything else. She wanted ice chips. He said that was fine. "Anything you want". She will be moved to a regular room where visiting can commence anytime and for however long. Mom's grandchild will be able to see her. We are trying to make her as supremely comfortable as possible. She will continue to be on antibiotics, and pain medicine. However, the blood pressure medications have been stopped.

It was emotional, but we found out that she will be allowed to have food (instead of just the tube) and asked mom what she wanted to eat. Nothing is off limits. It was excruciatingly real and painful to know that you and your sister are planning your mother's last meals. On some levels, we feel certain that mom knows that she won't leave the hospital- even amidst her confusion. Oh, by the way, mom desires Popeyes Fried Chicken. We will get her some mashed potatoes and rice dressing on the side. And, she will be able to enjoy a much coveted soda. That is our plan.

We will post what her new room number will be. Come at your leisure. And, we continue to welcome good energy, prayers, and support.