{Letting Go is Hard-just breathe}

{This is a long one,  friends.  Although it is partly selfish to fill a need to purge my feelings that VAl’s experience has brought up at this time, it is mostly sharing something very personal in hopes it touches another’s heart.

Or helps us see the importance to rally around one another, especially women rallying around women… or helps just one person know… they are not alone.  Not ever alone.}


Cancer Shmancer.

I have seen so much suffering because of this ugly disease lately by people dear to me.

It hurts my heart.

6 of them have been able to ward off the demon, so far (one minus a leg, but not her spirit-so inspiring), but not for another friend recently…

actually a friend of a friend, who I feel is a friend, because of our connection.

Val had to say goodbye to her husband on Saturday, February 5th.

He fought a long, hard battle, but his time on earth was through.

Let me take you to the beginning of something I know a lot about


When you receive the news that a loved one is stricken with a terminal illness,

(in my Dad’s case, it was AIDS)

after all of the stages of grief and shock are over,

you go into survival mode and play a long, dreadful waiting game.

Not knowing when the final day will come, but knowing when it does it will be just that.

Final.  So excruciatingly final.

For my family, we spent over 2 and a half years of time playing that game.

It is a time of conflict trying to hold on to “nows”,

yet wondering about “lasts”… will this be our last talk, our last movie together, our last hug…

After my dad died, people thought it would be so much easier because we were

“ready” and had time to “prepare”.


Let me tell you… There is no preparing.

Death is death is death is death… whether you know it’s coming or not.

It hits you like a bulldozer.  You don’t know how to continue on.

Here you are having to go through every stinkin’ stage of grief

ALL. OVER. AGAIN.

And as much as you think you know about life and God and faith and are surrounded by loved ones,

you still humanly grieve.

You kind of got used to the way things were, as bad as they were.

Their final breath just sucks your very own breath away.

{My handsome Dad as a child-now you can see that my girls curls don’t just come from their Daddy!}

As I stoood next to my dad’s hospice bed for the last goodbye 19 years ago, I was numb, yet shaking.

Ready to collapse from the longest train wreck of emotions.

I couldn’t hold back a few wayward teardrops, but fought back  a waterfall so as to be strong for him.

I grasped his hand… he was unable to speak, yet his eyes said so much.

I spoke, but repeated the same things over and over.

I wanted so badly to say the right things, for this would be my last chance, but alas,

I couldn’t form any meaningful thoughts.

I feared I wouldn’t say all that I needed to.

His eyes were scared and full of tears, yet dry as a bone, for his body had

sucked up every last drop of fluid.

A dry, barren well wishing to provide the water to quench my bitter, wrenching thirst.

I believe he wasn’t scared because death’s door was open for him, but I believe he was scared for me.

For us.  Those left behind.

I think he knew that it was harder for us because we would have to find a way

to carry on without him and everything would be turned upside down.

I think he felt sad and responsible for causing us that pain.

As I walked out that door looking back, and reaching for something to make it all go away,

I knew.  And the waterfall came in a big ugly, endless sobbing way.


Letting go is hard.

I think for the dying as well as the surviving.

But going through what we did, gave me compassion, tolerance, empathy, a greater ability to forgive

and the capacity to love more than I would have ever known.

There are gifts in tragedy when you allow your heart to be changed for the better.

There are things that can only be learned through adversity.

And I am thankful for them.

But yeah, letting go is hard.

It takes awhile to mold a life into something new.  It can be strange and unrecognizable.

It can be scary and lonely.  Oh so lonely.

A feeling like “NOBODY knows what I’m going through”.

And sometimes that is true, because we all grieve differently, but the same.

When we are in that bubble it can feel like you’re the only person on earth that’s ever felt this pain,

or been through this situation.

The kind of feelings that make your heart literally hurt.

The hurt making it hard to breathe.  But we must remember to breathe.

And all I can say to Val, is BREATHE.

God will give you breath just when you think you can’t breathe anymore.


Take it moment to moment.

And give it all to the Lord… Although you may feel that you are left to drive this ship alone, He will take the wheel for you.

Just like Val’s husband, Wayne said,

“the only thing he could control was the present. He found peace in the moment by not worrying about tomorrow. By not letting the fear of the unknown get to him.”

One foot in front of another… take it slow.

And let yourself feel whatever it is you need to feel in those moments.


As an outsider it is often hard to find the right words to help the suffering.

Even when I myself have been through a similar situation.

But don’t just say nothing out of fear of not saying the right thing…

say anything.

Don’t be afraid to speak, because sometimes it is hard to speak themselves.

Then let them speak when they need to… and then listen, and listen, and listen some more.

And let it be still and quiet when it needs to be.

Sometimes nothing at all needs to be said, but just to be there… in body.

If you can’t be near your loved one in body, be there in spirit and prayer.

They will feel it and it will buoy them up.


I pray for Val and her sweet children and hope you can do the same

for her and those who are suffering.

I pray for her strong, brave boy, Caeden, that stood by the side of his father’s bed

and held his hand just as I did 19 years ago…

with no choice, but to say goodbye.

This is the part of the story that grabs me and throws me back in time like a ton of bricks.

Except I was 17.  And I said the same things as this strong little 6 year old…

“Totally normal and calm… told him he loved him and that everything was going to be okay…”

I remember holding on to my father’s hand with a super glue grip… repeating “I love you”

over and over and over again.

It was the last time I would get to… face to face.  Hand and hand.  And I didn’t want it to end.

But I had to say goodbye and let go.  Hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

(And I’ve been through a heck of a lot of hard things)

Having to let go of the dreams…being Daddy’s little girl,  graduation, wedding days, grandchildren…

Dreams and things  you feel die along with them.

Having to let go of my Daddy… but not of his spirit or the essence of him.

That will live on in Caeden’s own life too.

Letting go “in body only.  Only.”

It is the physicality, the presence of the loss that can keep you reeling.


But now’s a time to hold on to so many other things…

LOVE.

Each other.  Faith.  Memories.  HOPE.  Gratitude. Photographs.  Family.  Legacy.

New memories and new moments.

Sometimes newness doesn’t feel so good, but it will eventually.

And hold on to the things from that person which will live on inside of you and in your actions.

You are not alone.  Not ever.

Nobody said it would be easy, but oh so worth it in the end.


Go hold a loved one a little bit closer and in honor of  Val… enjoy the moment.


::::STAY TUNED FOR AN INCREDIBLE WAY TO RALLY AROUND THIS DEAR MAMA (click on link)!!!::::


Let it shine… especially for others today,

Dana

May 3, 2012 - 9:27 am

admin - Oh, Pam. You just gave me the goosies. I wish I would have seen this earlier. I hope it could comfort your cousin in some way. And I”m sorry for your losses. I can obviously relate. And I have a dear friend who is losing her battle to cancer right now as well, and it is very hard. I don’t like the word “losing” at all because she fought a REALLY courageous fight and did not “lose” if you ask me-she’s a winner and God knows it. It’s just her time. I guess God needs the good ones for something else. I’m so glad we met as well. Please come say hello anytime, my friend. xo

March 5, 2012 - 2:39 pm

Pamela Bates/Mercantile Muse - I neglected to mention that I will pray for strength for val and her family. I’m sure they could use it at such a difficult time.

March 5, 2012 - 2:38 pm

Pamela Bates/Mercantile Muse - Well Dana, I think we met exactly when we were supposed. Funny how that works. I just lost my godfather two weeks ago to pancreatic cancer. Knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier. This man was like my second dad, a huge part of my life and my heart has been so heavy. Throw in the fact that I got home from his services to find that my friend, who is like a sister, has cancer it’s been a very challenging time. Add to that some more insult to injury that I won’t get into, but suffice it to say really hard stuff, and I have been feeling the same as you. Give it up to God. It’s all you can do with the things that you have no control over. So glad that we’ve connected and I really appreciate you sharing the story of losing your Dad. I’ll be sending this link to my cousin, I think it will give her some comfort. Look foward to getting know you better. Be well, Pam

February 17, 2011 - 8:51 am

Dawn studdard - Beautiful Dana….truly inspirational for anyone who finds them self hurting from disease, tragedy, or any of the things life throws at us. Thank you for sharing.

February 15, 2011 - 12:01 pm

admin - Hi, Angie! Thank you for your awesome comment… So well put. I took a peek at your non-profit and I think what you’re doing is wonderful! It’s so good to keep our minds focused on the things we CAN change, instead of what we can’t. That’s exactly what Jami is trying to do, by putting on this fundraiser… she felt so helpless being so far away from her dear friend, Val. Jami is a REAL good egg. YAY for women making a difference, no matter how big or small. It all matters!!! 😉 xo

February 15, 2011 - 9:24 am

Angie Dewey - What a beautiful post. There is so much {LOVE} in this world and I am sure that Val is feeling it from all different places.
I too have seen alot of people that I love go through and suffer from the evil thing we call cancer. I started a non-profit in my own attempt to fight the disease. It makes me feel like I am able to do something when I often feel as though I have no control over everything.
Thank you for such a wonderful post and for sharing such a personal story.

xo

February 14, 2011 - 7:25 pm

admin - Dax!!! What an awesome surprise! Thank you so very much for your kind words… seriously so nice. There were so many good things about him that I choose to remember. And funny you mention roadshow… we are about to start rehearsing for a huge cultural event with the youth, and I’ve been thinking about that and the Dance Festival a ton!!! 😉 And just so you know, I draw strength from your family as well who has SHINED through adversity!!! Way to go Ross Family!!! 😉

February 14, 2011 - 7:10 pm

dax - Dana, such honest and touching words. I have good memories of your dad; he was the best road show director ever. I’m glad you are able to put your loss into words and share it with others.

February 12, 2011 - 1:01 pm

Monika - I love you, girl. Sitting here with tears for you, tears for Val, tears for all the hurt in this world that is out of our control.

February 11, 2011 - 5:51 pm

admin - Oh, T. I honestly had no idea I would start getting replies like this. Whatever fire is burning in me just comes out without thinking of the after effects. Thank you 100 times over for your kind words and for always, always being so darn sweet. Really, how do you do it? And yes, it is time to put this good energy into Val and her children and hope for healing and love to pour out to her. It is times like this where I am so grateful for what I went through, so I can empathize and be there for others. I would never trade it. It has helped me become who I am. It is just life. Things happen. And all we can do is love one another, be there for each other, and carry one another’s burdens when we can’t do it ourselves. Love you, hon! ;)xoxo

February 11, 2011 - 3:51 pm

admin - Sara my lady!!! I LOVE you girl!!! Thanks for always being such a ray of sunshine. I miss talking to my Boxsta. 😉 Thank you. I hope it gives just one person hope, maybe even Val someday… knowing she’s not alone and will be okay. Rally on ladies, rally on! MWAH!!!! XOXO

February 11, 2011 - 3:01 pm

Tracie Grant - Yes, a mean, terminal disease is a mean, terminal disease. Losing someone is losing someone. And it’s hard and no fun.

I’m sorry, I thought you knew about Steph. She has stage III rectal cancer. She did one round of chemo last fall and surgery in November. She’s now doing chemo until June. All things considered, whe’s doing very well. Working when she can, and being as classy as ever. Franklin Covey is being very good and working with her, too. She’s totally amazing.

Mean diseases touch every life at some point. *sigh* Good to have the gospel to help us get through the losses and challenges!

Love ya! ~Tracie

February 11, 2011 - 2:51 pm

Sara - Your words will hit home with so many as they have with me. I can’t stop thinking about Val and her sweet family. Thinking of you too today, Dana. Let’s rally! xoxo

February 11, 2011 - 2:09 pm

admin - Stephanie King??? Oh, no! What kind does she have? Isn’t it sad that it come to this… “what kind does she have”? Ugh. Too much of it in the world. I’ll be writing more about my other friends soon. I should clarify that my dad had AIDS, not cancer. But the deterioration and suffering through a terminal illness is all the same. All the other stigmas that came along with AIDS in the late 80’s, is not. A whole other issue/post in itself. The links in the post tell a tidbit of it. Thank you, sweetness! 😉 Much love to you!!!

February 11, 2011 - 1:58 pm

Tracie Grant - Wow…wow…really important post. So true. Trying to get Stephanie King through her fight — terribly hard. So sorry your dad and Val’s husband lost their fights. Wow…wow…such an amazing post. Much love.

February 11, 2011 - 5:45 pm

admin - Absolutely, my friend! Shine on and Let it shine are my “MANTRA”/tag lines if you will for my biz, well, and I guess for life in general. It is taking on such a deeper meaning for me and I have big plans of giving back with it when I have the capacity. Thank you for your kind words. It seems like someone else’s life when I put it into words sometimes, but it is definitely very real. And I’m so grateful for it all… truly. And for you for always being such good peops. 😉 Had no idea I’d be crying today, but then again had NO idea y’all would come and say such dear things. XOXOXO

February 11, 2011 - 5:29 pm

Julie Tyler - Thank you Dana for sharing! I vividly remember those days surrounding of your loss– You’re right. Nobody didn’t know what it was like for you. We just knew it hurt.
I love your bright optimism and love that pours out of you. It keeps me smiling! SHINE ON is right! Can I borrow that from time to time? XOXO

February 11, 2011 - 5:26 pm

Taryn - Dana,
I truly admire you. I admire your strength, your words, your soul, your spirit and so much more. You have a rare ability to capture all that you are passionate about through your INSPIRING words and GORGEOUS photos.

I remember when your dad passed. I remember feeling so much sadness, knowing that you were going through so much pain and grief. You were so brave Dana. Thank you for sharing your story and I will continue to keep your family and Val’s in my thoughts and prayers. She is so blessed to call you a friend. :-) XOX!

February 11, 2011 - 5:15 pm

admin - Oh, Brooke. You just made my day responding so quickly and so sweetly to this post. I’m not used to putting it all out there on the web (and my Mister thinks it’s a wee crazy) but that’s just how I roll. I’ve never been afraid to talk about anything (it has made me stronger for it really), because I always hope by being open, it will help someone in some way. Thank you for sharing and being such a sweet friend. MWAH!!! xoxo

February 11, 2011 - 4:45 pm

brooke - oh this is so touching ms dana.. i am so sorry for the loss of your sweet dad and for val losing her husband. What a difficult thing to do. Your words are beautiful my friend. xo

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