My 2012 Summer Tour of the Rooms

A year ago I went to a workshop on change, not by choice, but I was glad I attended. Probably the thing I remember the most is “The Rooms” of change. At the time of the workshop, I thought was okay with life; I was in the 1^st room, the Contentment Room (which was modeled after the bedroom). Last May, I was quite proud that I faced a major change in my younger life and figured that any more major changes were up the road a ways. What I didn't know was that before summer semester would end at the University of Utah, I would be in the 2^nd room, the Denial Room (modeled after the living room). My mom’s health was declining; I would hear reports from my siblings that she was losing weight. I don’t remember anger or being upset, but I was in denial; probably out of fear. My brothers went home to see my mom, but I didn't  I used the excuse that I didn't like riding in my brother’s car during the summer. (it doesn't have working air conditioning system). But in reality, it was probably more me being in denial and probably because I was tired of the tension that my oldest brother would cause. (Mike is housebound by choice and my mom was his full time caregiver.)  I am not sure when I moved to the 3^rd room, the Confusion Room (modeled after the kitchen). I was becoming hopeful, even though I was still asking questions. I had my moments of disappointments, but I was making progress. By mid August, I was listening to my siblings. My mom was having problems eating and Mike was frustrated because she wouldn't eat. He was sure someone from church or the neighborhood was poisoning my mom. My youngest sister was on vacation with her family and in-laws in Southern Utah. On August 11^th, Mike phoned me in a panic; he was fearful that Mom would not make it through the night. Apparently she wouldn't eat what he fixed for her and he must have noticed the weight loss. He told me that her legs were thin as sticks. While I was calling neighbors of my Mom, I called my sister who was wrapping up her vacation at her in-laws in Bountiful. To my dismay, I found out that Mike had called her. She was shaking as I talked to her. Apparently Mike had made Mom tell her how bad she was. So Laura’s family changed their plans and left for Idaho first thing. Laura ended up staying with my mom while her husband and son headed home to Washington (the state, not the capitol). Before Laura took Mom back to Washington with her, my Mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 Non-Hopkins Lymphoma. Right before her first and only chemo treatment, Mom said her final good bye to Mike. That Friday night, Laura and Mom caught up with Mary, my oldest sister. Mary had flown into Boise from Seattle to help Laura with the driving. Mom did manage to eat on the way to Seattle. But she was exhausted. Shortly after arriving, Mom had to hospitalize. She was too weak for anymore chemo treatments. In the next few weeks, I talked to my sisters and Mom more than I had all summer. Even though Mom couldn't talk, I was able to hear her voice or grunt. I counted my blessings when I remembered the sacrifices Mom made for me. Labor Day weekend, Mom had another difficult time, but again she made it through the night. A week later, her health improved and she was moved from the hospital in Auburn to a care center in Enumclaw. During the week, I moved to the 4^th and final room, the Renewal Room (which is modeled after the bathroom), but I probably still had one foot in the Confusion Room. I was energized and feeling relief, even though I knew Mom would probably reunite with Dad soon. Shortly after Labor Day, I made plans to visit Mom in Washington. An hour before my flight took off that Friday, Mom took her last breath. At first I was little angry, not because Mom didn't wait until I got there, but I couldn't feel Dad’s presence like I usually did when I needed comfort. While I was boarding I felt Mom’s presence. Apparently she wanted to take one last flight with me and that was comforting. (We traveled together a bit.) While in Seattle, my sisters and I made phone calls and made funeral plans. When I got back to Salt Lake, I semi-went back to work and prepared the speech for my sisters. Mom had assigned them to give her life sketch during the funeral. Then on Friday, my brothers and I went to Idaho, my first time in two years. It was refreshing, but sad. Mom was laid to rest in Paul, Idaho. That Sunday morning as my brothers and I returned to Saturday, I looked at Mom’s smiling face on my iPad and silently cried out to her to help me out as her personal representative (or executor of her will). I was back in the Confusion Room.

I took this picture the Friday before my brother called in panic. When I woke up that following morning, I saw the magnet with this quote and I identified with what Hugh B. Brown said. It continued to be a comfort to me for rest of the summer and beginning of the fall semester.