"What Courage Truly Is"

Brooke's Story

© 2005 Marilyn Havner Walker, MS  

Brooke saw her red light coming from miles away.  She just never believed she would actually get to it.

In Brooke’s words, “Pete had been sick for a very long time.  He'd had his first by-pass surgery (a triple) in 1977 when the procedure was fairly new and experimental.  Ten years later he had a heart attack and his second by-pass surgery – this time a quadruple.  Medications, angioplasties, diabetes, carotid artery surgery; stroke; a second carotid artery surgery; amputations; kidney failure with accompanying dialysis; and more amputation followed until he simply couldn't beat the systematic break down of his body and organs.  Even after 22 years of serious medical issues, I never expected Pete to die.”

This lack of anticipation of death, even in the most dire of circumstances, is typical for an individual facing a loved one’s final days.  Dealing with long separations due to hospital stays, long-term medical issues, and a diagnosis that includes the word “terminal” – none of it takes away the shock experienced when that final breath is actually taken.

The day Pete died Brooke spoke to him around noon, after he returned to his hospital room from a dialysis treatment.  He hadn’t felt well and couldn’t talk on the phone.  Brooke assured him she would be there after work, and then called their daughter, Jeanne, to discuss the fact that a hospital social worker said they would be discharging Pete and wanted to know where he should be sent.  After an earlier amputation they had been lucky: They were able to build an addition on to their home that included a bedroom and handicapped bathroom with a ramp so Pete could get in the house.  Brooke believes that being able to come home gave Pete more time and also enabled him to see his first daughter married, and meet his first grandchild. 

In spite of strong feelings of foreboding on that day in late October 1999 neither Brooke nor Jeanne went to the hospital.  A couple of hours after Brooke spoke with Pete Pete’s physician called Brooke at work.  He said he was sorry but Pete had gone into cardiac arrest and they tried to revive him (in spite of a “Do Not Resuscitate” order) but they were unable to.  Even at that moment Brooke did not grasp the finality of what the doctor told her. 

“Are you telling me he died?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he replied.

She fell into a co-worker’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably. 

At the time of his death Pete was alone except for a team of medical personnel.  The decision to not go to the hospital after talking with Pete the last time is one of Brooke’s biggest regrets that she wrestles with almost daily.  “Perhaps he would not have died alone.”

Pete was a large, imposing figure.  A solid six feet two inches he had a big voice, which he frequently used to air his opinions on any topic, and a ready laugh.  He knew as much as there was to know about deep sea fishing as anybody and he frequently treated friends and family to fresh-caught tuna grilled over charcoal.  Pete knew how to enjoy life.  That made it all the more difficult as his health deteriorated.

Through years of illness, many life-threatening ones that Pete somehow defeated, Brooke thought Pete would survive.  He never asked, “Why me?”  He never complained.  He simply accepted what he had to and taught those around him that life does not end with illness or amputation.  “He taught us to trust in God and not give up until there is no more fight within us.  He showed us what courage truly is.”

After Brooke’s initial uncontrollable sob she didn’t cry for a very long time.  She teared up many times, but she didn’t really cry until long after Pete’s funeral.  She got teary when she called Jeanne and gave her the news and Jeanne said, “I’ll be right there.”  She got teary when she called her sister and asked her sister to go to the hospital with her, and she got teary when she called her other daughter, Carolynn, and her son, Peter, and asked them to come home from Arizona. 

Since Pete’s death Brooke has gone on with her life … working, changing jobs, planning for weddings, welcoming grandchildren, hosting christenings.  But she cries almost daily now.  “I cry for the memories Pete is missing out on; I cry for his children's pain – they each feel they failed him somehow in his last illness; I cry because he died alone and I knew he was scared of dying; I cry because I see his smile on our son's face and hear his laugh at some stupid (and usually off-color) joke; I cry when I drive down the street and look out over Long Island Sound where we placed his ashes just beyond Charles Island where the fishing was the best; I cry when I try to explain how hard it is to no longer have him in my life.”

For a long time after Pete died Brooke was able to go to work but she could not go home right after work.  She found numerous useless items to search for and buy.  She found any excuse to avoid going home.  Eventually it stopped hurting so much to go home right after work.  To be there alone in the house they re-modeled and loved.  She no longer had a burning need to buy a specific pillow case; a pocketbook; a kitchen gadget; or the perfect $3.00 bottle of wine. 

Today Brooke is still healing, as are their children.  They are “in awe of his faith and miss his physical presence in our lives.  But we are not sorry that his suffering ended.” 

How can we best respond to friends and colleagues who lose someone they love to death?

• Let them talk.  In the passing of time others have helped Brooke by allowing her to talk about Pete.  People often say one of the most difficult aspects of dealing with the loss of a loved one is the discomfort that others portray when the loved one is mentioned.  Yet talking about him or her is a crucial part of the grieving process.  Brooke’s family and friends have allowed her to talk when she wanted but never intruded on her privacy.  They have simply been there when she has needed them.  They have listened and not judged.

• Express your sadness and sympathy over their loss.  Although this may seem like a “no-brainer” many of us simply don’t know what to say when a friend or co-worker has lost a spouse, a child or a parent.  Saying simply, “I am so sorry for your loss” is an important piece of showing concern.  Many of us also often don’t call the person or go visit because we not only don’t know what to say but we also think too many other people will be doing so.  That is usually not the case.  A mother recently commented that after the death of her 15-year-old son earlier this year not one person in her neighborhood or church called or came to visit.  When someone in our circle of acquaintance experiences a loss it is not at all about us or our discomfort.  It is solely about their grief and conveying to them that we may not fully comprehend the depth of their grief but we understand and care about the significance of their loss. 

• Remember them a month (or longer) down the road.  It is also important to realize that the significance of their loss is not likely to be fully felt for a few weeks after the death.  While many people may send cards immediately following the news, a month or so later it is as though it has been forgotten.  That is when a phone call or a card – “I was just thinking about you and wanted to let you know” – is important.

• Give them time.  Giving them time to grieve shows them that we respect the depth of their loss.  In giving them time to grieve it is most helpful to let them know you are there for them – when they are ready.  Rather than encouraging them to “get out and do things,” “come over for dinner,” or “call me when you get this message” it’s much better to tell them “I’d love to see you or talk with you and spend time with you whenever you’re ready.  You call me when you want to.” 

Brooke and Pete had 36 married years together, and 7 years before that.  Through the course of those years they went through the birth of three children, job adjustments, moves, Pete’s medical issues as well as medical issues with two of their children, and the deaths of all of their parents.  By observation Brooke and Pete were a couple brought closer together by the trials and tribulations of life.

Pete may have exhibited courage during his illnesses and hospitalizations.  But Brooke displays the same courage as she quietly faces every day, enjoying happy moments along with the sad as thoughts of Pete are always close to the surface.  Through the course of his life Pete portrayed a love of life and a zest for living.  Through the last years of his life – surgeries, amputations, a regimen of medication, doctors’ visits – he taught those he loved not only how to live, but also how to die. 

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