The New Normal.

So, hi. As you know, this past October has been absolutely life-changing. And not in the best of ways. I feel like a lot of you deserve a "what happened", because everything was so sudden. And maybe a bit of "how are we doing at the moment" thrown in for good measure.

October came with beautiful leaves, amazing weather, and high expectations. Mom was to receive her last chemo round, and we were hoping to finally move forward with the treatment and getting rid of that tumor. We excitedly made Dad's 60th birthday plans, we started to think about Thanksgiving and traveling to VA , and even Christmas plans were in the works, since it would be the first time in a long time that Lauren would be home for both. Mom worked a full week, and on Friday, she dozed on my couch, with Collin cuddling up and watching Sesame Street. When it was time for her and Dad to leave, I helped her down the driveway and into the van, saying, "I love you", "thanks for watching the boys". This would be the last time I'd really see her.

Saturday, Steve and I took the boys to the pumpkin patch, with strict instructions to take lots of pictures and tell Mom everything about it. We got home, and I uploaded everything, called Mom, and we went through the shots of the boys picking out pumpkins in cute matching shirts. She was tired, and had some trouble catching her breath, and we assumed it was because she was due for her transfusion on Monday. That evening, I called her one more time, and Collin jumped on the phone. "Hi!", he said. "Did you get a pumpkin Collin?" Grammy asked. "YES", he said. Then he yelled, "BYYYYYE!". He tossed the phone to me, and trotted away. This was really the first time he had talked to Mom on the phone, and it was a big deal. "Alright Mom, we're going out tonight." "Yes", she said, "Have fun, and stop thinking about me tonight, I'm fine!". "I love you Momma". "I love you Sweetie". That was it. The last thing I said to her.

8:30 that evening, I got a call from Dad saying he was following Mom up in the ambulance. She needed an emergency transfusion, she was too weak. I told him not to stay too late, to get some sleep, and call me with updates. He called throughout the evening, they were waiting for tests and Mom was just...so.....tired. Dad stayed until 3 that morning. Sunday, at 3:30, he received the call that changed our lives. Thinking it was a prank call at first, he realized that a doctor with a heavy Indian accent was saying, "Your wife is in grave condition, you need to come up now." Dad called me at 4 am. I was so confused....Lauren's phone was off, saving minutes.

At this point, you realize the importance of 4 am friends. I called my Megan in CA. I called Gwen 10 minutes away. I called Robin who had lost her mom to cancer. I begged them to pray...to pass it on to others. Steve made sure I left the house wearing a bra and clean underwear, and snacks in my purse. I was escorted upstairs at 4:30 in the morning, to the CCU, where Dad and his pastor waited. And then the doctor sat with Dad and I. Talking. Explaining. My father continued to write down the names of medication and procedures, because, when you're in shock, you go through the motions. The doctor said words like, "cardiac arrest" and"breathing tube", and I thought for sure I was on an episode of Grey's Anatomy, and that this was all a big joke. Finally, they took us to see Mom. Well, I think it was Mom. I mean, the wristband said Virginia Kiessling, but that small, frail woman, with tubes jammed down her throat, and monitors hooked up, and what felt like 5,000 bags of drugs hanging about, pumping into her body...in no way could that be Mom. Dad was out in the hallway making calls, and the doctor looked and me and kindly said, "Does your Dad understand what's going on. Do you? Do you know what I'm trying to tell you?" I knew in my heart of hearts what he was trying to tell us, but nothing was sinking it.

By 5:00 am, I was frantically making calls-my pastor, our close family friends, Mom's co-teacher...I still couldn't get ahold of my sister. My uncle arrived. By 5:30, friends were pouring in. Seriously, 5:30 in the morning, and Dad and I had a posse that would rival any rock band.

I didn't get Lauren until 7ish...it was agony. It was the worst phone call I would ever make. "Put Justin on Lauren"...I gave Justin instructions as Lauren sobbed and shook. Seriously, I never want to do that again. But I never needed her so badly. My sister. I need my sister. Give me my sister.

Hours passed...people prayed...stayed...held our hands...cried...sat with Mom...cried some more...my friends would bring me water and coffee...taking my phone out of my hands and charge it when I couldn't figure out how to do it. The afternoon came, as did the sweet nurse. Explaining to us our choices...knowing Mom's choices. Life support was not to be continued much longer. But why? What happened? What caused all this?

You know that stupid plastic stent that was inside Mom, helping the bile flow freely? It had become infected. Her white blood cell count was so low, there was no way to fight it....septic shock...liver failure...the amount of air around her organs was insane-pushing up her lungs, not allowing her to breathe. A stupid, plastic tube. Because of stupid cancer....

Dinner time we made a decision, with the doctor's help. We'd wait 24 hours, give the antibiotics a chance to work, then the next morning take Mom off life support. Dad hadn't slept for 3 days. We needed sleep. A chance to catch our breath. Dad, Lauren, and Justin stopped off at my house to give the boys hugs and love and then went home. I collapsed in bed.

At 3:30 am Dad got a call, saying it wasn't going to be long. At 4:05, after just 24 hours, Mom passed quietly in the morning. She took the decision of ending life support out of our hands. That was a gift. I called my "4am" friends again. Kevin Bennett came to my house at 5:30 am and just let me cry. Shock doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling.

The week went by in a blur. It's very surreal to be picking out your Mother's urn. What box should we pick? Wood? Pottery? Big? Small? SERIOUSLY? Dad sat in the funeral home, proofreading her obituary. SERIOUSLY? Her wedding rings were in a small plastic jar, and Lauren and I discussed what we could wear. SERIOUSLY? Was this happening? They took us down to see Mom one last time. She was there on a stretcher, with a quilt on her. Small, frail. Gone. Her spirit, her joy, gone. A hollow shell. We said our goodbyes, and Lauren and I looked across the lawn, at our high school, bustling with kids. So weird.

More days spent going through pictures, saying thank you's to the oncology staff....i ventured into her classroom...hugged teachers...cried on her desk.  The house was in a state of suspended animation. Dirty clothes...a toothbrush....Mom's stuff everywhere. My contacts stayed out for most of the week-just glasses that covered red rimmed eyes. The viewing was a thursday. We had 500 people show up...shower us with love and hugs. Still wasn't sure I was there for Mom...I'm sure she's in the bathroom, and we're really here for Gran or Gramps...People cried on us, and we didn't know who they were, because that's Mom's job-whispering in our ears who they are, and how we know them. Our apologies if we didn't see you or thank you. Everyone left, and we stood there...with Mom in a box. Dad carried her home. Put her on the table, because she likes to be the center of conversation.

We took awhile to plan the Memorial. We wanted it to be perfect-wanted it to be a celebration of Mom's life, and what God did in her, and through her. Her legacy. My Megan flew in from CA to stand with me. Mom's best friends flew in from around the country. The memorial was perfect. Amazing. If you were there, you know how it was. God's presence was so thick and heavy, it oozed over us, covering us in protective love. God is good.

I went to Megan's that night...two minutes from Dad's. We spent the night, loving on each other, pretending that Mom wasn't dead, and that Megan hadn't lost 3 babies. We drank White Russians, and sculped clay, and battled large spiders in the bathroom. It was perfect.

And now? Now our new normal begins. Every day I have to learn how to live in a world without my Mom. I will my fingers to stop dialing her, I beg my heart to stop hurting long enough for me to function. I hold my boys tight, and think about what she's going to miss in their lives. I talk to my sister, our texts fill each other's phones. I need her so badly now, I can't breathe. She needs me. I've always wanted this, our relationship to be like this...but not because of this. She's alone in Harrisburg, not sleeping, and grieving. Justin is steadfast by her side, and promises to drive her down every weekend if need be. She's baking a lot.

And Dad? Dad is trying to figure out how to live without his soul mate. His best friend. I write down tv show times and channels, because that's something Mom would know. He's cutting out coupons. I promise that my pups can spend the night with him. He eats leftovers and runs errands. He's getting a part time tutoring job and anxious to start playing music a little more for fun. He watches the boys in the afternoon, and the house is once again filled with sounds and screams of little boys. He LOVES phone calls and meal dates. Just saying.

We miss Mom. So, so much.

But I still believe this. I believe that God is a GOOD God. He's amazing actually. He loves me, and my sister, and my Daddy, so, so much. He continues to show us His goodness daily. I will never stop singing His praises.

He gives and takes away. My heart will choose to say. Blessed be His name.

Amen.