Marie Dean: A Woman
of Courage
Marie Dean – there are many words that could be used to
describe her. One that immediately comes to the forefront is courage. Theodore
Roosevelt once stated, “Courage is not having the strength to go on; it’s going
on when you don’t have the strength.” Mom is one of the most courageous women
that we know.
Unless you really took the time to peel back the covers, you
wouldn’t truly understand the wonderful woman that she was as her life’s
journey was filled with unexpected twists and turns. Her health problems began
in her early thirties when my Dad was told he would be a widower and single
father in a short time. She proved the doctors wrong time and time again! Over
the years, she battled interstitial cystitis, Reynaud’s Disease, scoliosis,
stenosis, arthritis, two horrible knees, mesh embedded in her intestines,
multiple surgeries, and the list could go on and on. The need to be comfortable
and out of pain is something no one understands unless they have been in that
condition. In her later years, her
mobility was deeply affected by these issues. We would often hear her say, “If
I stop moving, I will lose what I have and what I have is better than nothing.”
She displayed courage and always put one foot in front of the other.
We have found many buried treasures in our parents’ house
over the past 3 months. One of the
things we found was our Mother’s journal.
In her younger days, Mom was an outgoing, fun loving individual, full of
life and spunk. But on the inside, she was often faking it, trying to fit in,
dealing with a lack of confidence and self-esteem. It wasn’t as easy as she made it seem. Unless
you walked personally in her shoes, which none of us did, we will never fully
understand the struggles and pain that she endured for many years. Through it
all, our Mom was someone that put her loved ones, family, and friends before
her own needs. Our Mom was a woman who
loved hard and would give anyone in need whatever she had to offer. Our Mom was a devoted wife and parent. In her younger years, our Mom was the life of
the room. Our Mom was a woman that was proud to be a preacher’s wife and was
devasted by the fact that she couldn’t physically care for him when he became
ill with Parkinson’s. Our Mom was someone
that was accepting of her children and our journey and discoveries in
life. She loved hard and she loved
unconditionally.
Mom not only had our family, but she had 6 brothers and
sisters that she loved dearly as well.
Her 4 brothers have passed on before her, but her two sisters
remain. Gail, her older sister who she
admired and looked up to dearly; and Margie, her twin, someone that she shared
life with in a way that few get to understand.
All three of them had a very special relationship that is seen by few. Mom’s
last wishes were that her sisters knew that she loved them. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” were
her words for them.” The love we saw and
felt was so pure and so unfiltered, it made our hearts smile just to hear them
speak together. Mom loved her
grandchildren. Oh, how she was so proud
of the 6 of them and one great grandchild.
We just wish they would have known her in her younger years before
chronic illnesses invaded her full of life personality.
Since May, her courage was forced to flourish. She lost our
father, moved into an Assisted Living Facility, had a knee replacement, went to
rehab, and went back to the Assisted Living Facility. Never once did she
complain. However, each day she would plead and beg the Lord to be with the
love of her life, Sam, again. She missed him so much. Faithful, endless love.
While we thought she was turning the corner to a more independent, mobile
lifestyle, life’s journey took another unexpected turn.
People handle their last days in many ways. Some are scared.
Some are reluctant. Some are in denial. As for our Mom, she embraced her
transition with excitement. Her transition did not come without pain and tears,
but she faced each day with courage. Mom knew where she was going and where
things were headed. She was going to
heaven. The neurosurgeon said she’d be lucky live 2-3 days after the fall, which
left her paralyzed from the neck down and impacted her breathing ability. She made it 16 days. About day 9, Chris had a very enlightening
conversation. Mom starting saying, “God,
why are You not coming for me? I’m
ready!” She would repeat this over and
over. Chris interrupted and said, “What
is He telling you, Mom?” She said, “He
is telling me my body is not ready”. Chris
said, “Is He still coming?” She said, “He
will be here soon!” Then she proceeded
to say, “Chris, He died for my sins and for your sins!” Then she proceeds to sing, “Jesus Loves Me,
This I know”. As you can imagine, the
tears flowed uncontrollably….until in typical Marie fashion, she stopped and said,
“What’s for breakfast? I have to
eat?”
And at the end of her life, we think she clung to that
survival instinct that got her through all her ailments, illnesses, and
diseases. How else does someone live 16 days without food and water when the
surgeon says she will be lucky to survive 2 days? Her outer body failed her,
but her heart was strong. Oh, how we
wish we had her heart!
These past few months have been brutal, as we have both
become “adult orphans” in a short amount of time. Our cousin, Ryan Foster,
wrote these beautiful words that summarize the events of the past few months:
“Our parents’ generation is a shift that is ending. Slowly
but surely, they are all finishing their work here on Earth, and they are
heading home. Just a few left now, sweeping up, closing out the shop, and
locking up in the evening after a long busy day. Like any other bright place
that was open for business but is now closed, some parts of the world will be
lonelier. We will miss them when they are gone and will remember them with
longing and love. But they are going home where they are welcome, where there
is peace and rest after troubles and long labor. My Aunt Marie has finished her
shift. She has laid aside this world and has been reunited with Sam. What an
amazing and joyful reunion!”
There is no doubt that she was met with a warm welcome by my
Dad and an abundance of other loved ones. While our hearts will grieve in ways
we could never imagine, we will hold on to the courage that Mom taught us to
have to navigate this dark season. Thank you, Mom, for your unconditional love
and faithfulness. We are blessed to call you our own. Until we meet again, you
will live in our hearts and through our actions. Godspeed, our beautiful,
courageous Mother.
P.S. We hope that there is a hair pick and hairspray in
heaven! We are sure the angels already know that they better not get your hair
wet!
