OK, so you probably haven’t even noticed that I’ve been gone for the past week, but just in case you have, I promise, my excuse is good. My former mother-in-law, my kids’ grandma and a woman who is in many ways like a mother to me, is at the end of her 10-year-long battle with cancer.
It all started in January 2000, when Rachel and Andie were just a year-and-a-half old and the family found out that Carmen had ovarian cancer. The tumor in her ovary had burst, spreading cancerous cells all throughout her abdomen. Carmen’s prognosis seemed relatively bleak, though her doctor kept reminding us that people are not statistics and every individual is different. I remember her friend, a long-time cancer nurse, telling us that in her experience, we would be lucky to have Carmen for another two years.
The mother of six — my kids’ dad is the oldest — Carmen’s youngest, Kirk, was only 8 at the time. “I just want to live long enough to get Kirk out of the house,” she told me on more than one occasion. A noble goal, I agreed, but secretly I thought it was unrealistic.
But that’s Carmen for you; unrealistic, full of hope, always looking for the positive in any situation. It has served her well over the 17 years that I’ve known her, from her proclamation that her twin grandsons, born at only 24-3/4 weeks of gestation, would “be fine” (they were), to her stubborn determination to get her youngest child through high school before she left this world (she did).
We’ve had multiple scares with her over the years as her cancer came back numerous times. Every time, she cheated death. She dwindled down to nothing but skin and bones and made us all draw our collective breath in fear that this time would be the last, but looking back now, I see that there was always a strength about her, a strength that seemed to say, This isn’t going to get me yet.
This time is different. That energy has finally faded away, like glistening raindrops in the sun. Not that she isn’t still strong, but it’s a different kind of strength, a quiet, reflective inner peace she demonstrates, knowing that she won’t be with us much longer. Her eyes, sunken from her prolonged fight, are still bright in her translucent face, and though she seems almost to be floating somewhere above us much of the time, already halfway to the next life, she’s still there to pat our backs and give us her love as we take turns shedding tears over our impending loss.
It is truly a tragedy that the world will be losing Carmen. She is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known and despite the fact that she could have so very easily (unwittingly, of course) made me feel like I’d never measure up as a wife and mother in comparison to her, she never did. Instead, I found myself trying to emulate her strength, her peace, her faith and the way she treated everyone with sincere love, care and respect. She taught me some of the most valuable lessons of my life, simply by her example. There is no way that I would be the person I am today without her having been in my life.
A little blog post is not even close to enough room to describe the loss of her in our lives. She has been an inspiration, a blessing beyond measure, a mother and grandmother unlike any other. I cannot begin to adequately express the sadness we feel upon losing her, nor the peace of knowing that she won’t be suffering much longer, that she will soon be in a better place and that our lives have been all that much more enriched because of her presence in them.
And so we wait for her final curtain, for the goodbyes we’ve been saying in our hearts for years, for the end of an era and the beginning of a new one in which we will tell each other stories to keep her memory alive in our minds, as well as in the minds of those grandchildren who will never have the chance to know her in person.
We love you, Carmen. You have touched many lives, more than you probably know, and your legacy will live on. Heaven will be a happier place with you in it.
Your entire family has been on my mind constantly this past week. It does seem so sudden–even though it has been 10 years and she has seemed so close to death before and the rest of us thought we were prepared. However, the finality of death is never something we are prepared for, as I found out with David’s grandparents. Thank God for eternal life with Him in Heaven. I can already see Carmen holding all of the babies and children in heaven and still teaching them of His Love–for all eternity.
Love you!
Laura
Love and prayers going out to your family and Carmen.
Sarah, what a wonderful tribute you have written about Carmen. She is an amazing women, and I have always enjoyed visiting with her. I remember the first time I met her, at her house for a right-to-life meeting. Thomas and Kirk were young toddlers. Carmen is always so kind to everyone.
Thank you, Robyn. That’s so sweet of you.
Thanks, Laura. I agree — Carmen will probably be holding all the babies and children in heaven and teaching them. Cody said recently, “Grandma knows more about God than ANYONE!” =)
Thank you, Lori. I appreciate that.
Eesh, I’m bawling, and I never do. What a beautiful tribute. She sounds like the woman we all aspire to be. I wish you and the family well, and smile for you too, for the many blessings it seems you have received from her. How fortunate for you (and her) that you got to spend this time with her. Hugs to you all.
Thanks, Rosey. We have indeed received many blessings from her, which that makes it all that much harder to say goodbye!
Sarah, I commend you for the beautiful tribute to Carm (as we called her), my daughter-in-law. Being alive means being the best person you can be and Carm has done that. She’s my hero in life.
Thank you, Grandma Rausch
Sarah, thank you for this tribute to Carm, my sister-in-law. She’s a beautiful person all around and you said it all, just as it should be said. You do wonders with your words.
I saw your darling kids a couple weeks ago at the ranch. Some of us played dominoes! Was fun!
Again, thank you,
Deb Owens
You have a wonderful talent for expressing your true heart…this was the most beautiful thing I’ve read to express one’s feelings towards another human being. It sounds like Carmen was as lucky to have you in her life as you were to have her in yours. I’m glad she lived long enough to reach her goal and raise her youngest child. Not everyone is as fortunate as her. Prayers to you and all the people who Carmen touched during her life.
Thank you, Cherie. That means a lot to me. I appreciate your kind words.
Oh, Sarah, I had no idea you guys were going through this. What an incredibly difficult time for your family. My Mom had had ovarian cancer too, so I can relate to strong and determined woman who simply seem determined to beat the odds.
May God be with you and your children as Carmen heads Home.
Thanks, Jenny. I appreciate your thoughts.