Sunday, September 5, 2021

Life with Pauletta

 


Losing your best friend is a confusing thing, a frustrating thing, a heartbreaking thing.  It’s like having a part of your heart torn out that you can never mend.  I’ve had so many emotions running through me the past week that I thought writing it out would help.  Writing clears my heart and mind of clutter…but this is my second try.

Pauletta and I walked through life together for 24 years.  We walked through the valleys and mountain tops of each other’s lives.  Now where to start?

First Grade – Lev met Pauletta’s son Tyler, and it wasn’t much later till he asked to spend the night with Tyler.  Not knowing them – and being a super protective parent, I wasn’t going to say yes till I met them.  She called and we talked on the phone for a while, but I still just couldn’t.  But then one Sunday, she and her whole bushel of kids showed up at Canton Baptist – where I was going to church.  Her, her husband, Tyler, a stepson and a stepdaughter.  It wasn’t long after that I said yes to let him go home one Sunday afternoon and back that night.  Now, at that time I wasn’t going to church on Sunday nights, but since I had to pick Lev up at church, I went.  She kept me going thereafter on Sunday nights too.

And we'd talk on the phones - a lot of times it was the same conversation.  "Did you know there's a field trip tomorrow?"  "No! I didn't get a form."  And then she'd either copy it and fill it out for me, or she'd get me one if it was over a weekend.  And report card day, we made sure both of us knew! LOL! Our boys were boys!  I can remember us adopting each other's punishment methods more than once!  We made those boys write Bible verses until I was sure they'd start hating the Bible.   

I’d sit by her in church and I had my King James Version bible, which at the time was the only version I’d read.  She was reading NKJV and of course, I was frowning on that.  She kept telling me – if you can’t understand what it says, what good is it to read it?  Then one day she comes to church with a big bible – still in the box, a marker, a set of highlighters for the Bible, and gave it to me.  It was a Spirit Filled Life NKJV Bible.  I still have it. 

Not but a week or so ago I felt the need to pull it out and just see if I could find anything of her in it.  When you love someone and you know they’re leaving you, you desire anything of them to fill that hole.  I found the front page where she’d filled out that she gave it to me.  I cried.  I found a marker of the 10 commandments she’d bought for all the kids there at Canton – and later we found out they’d left one of the commandments out! LOL! I gave her lots of jabs over that! LOL!  Then I found a wooden Bible market that says “INTEGRITY” on one end, and then “Lord, who may dwell in your sanctuary? He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from his heart and has no slander in his tongue” (Psalm 15:1-3). This was significant to me at that time because I’d just done something that hurt two people.  I said something that wasn’t true, and I don’t to this day know why I did it.  But it hurt several people, and I will never forget it.  Even at that point, lying in the hospital sedated, she was correcting me. 

That’s one of the things I loved about our relationship.  We were BRUTALLY honest with each other.  But we both would take it.  In a way, we were mothers to each other.  We held each other accountable for everything.  And let me make one bad move – and she’d be the first to call me. I’m going to miss that most of all.  Her honesty was flawless. 

I would miss church one Sunday night and even before she got home she’d be calling me.  It would go like this: Me: Hello,  Pauletta: “HEATHEN!!! WHERE WERE YOU TONIGHT?”.  And no excuse was good enough, and I knew it.  Oh but then when she missed – you know I got to call her HEATHEN too!

I remember one Sunday night that she loved to talk about.  We were sitting on the FRONT ROW - right in front of Brother Paul Cannon.  The boys were a seat or two behind.  Her boys were doing something she didn't like - I can't remember.  We got up to sing at the beginning of the service, and she leaned over to me and said, not as much of a whisper as 'indoor voice', "Hand me your belt!"  With the command she gave I knew I'd better do it.  I took it off standing there, and slipped it over to her.  She darted out of that pew, took Tyler and Little Phil out of their pews and out the door!.  A few minutes later, the boys came back in front of her huffing that 'I just got my butt whipped' cry, and sat down.  She sat down right beside me again and slung that belt back to me.  I didn't know whether to laugh or move far enough away she couldn't reach me!

Little things along the way she would teach me, and I would give her advice too.  Our children had the impact of both of them on us because we both felt obligated to mother them.  I remember one night that Tyler came home with Lev, and that Sunday morning we were going to bring him to church.  I opened his backpack to be sure he hadn’t missed anything and – just a pre-teen maybe 8 years old – he’d put some of Lev’s new shirts in his backpack.  Oh my goodness I inflicted fear in that child that day.  I remember making him sit on the stairs till we got ready to leave and telling him I’d never trust him again.  I was consciously trying to put some fear in him.  Then we got to church and of course we were late.  I eased into Sunday School right behind Pauletta and Big Phil.  She turns around and says quietly, “How’s my boy?” I whispered to her “He tried to steal Lev’s new shirts this morning”.  She sat there for all of 30 seconds before she darted up, went and pulled him out of Sunday School, and whipped his butt!  She was a strong mother and stepmother.  In later years she would talk about how she didn’t do a good job; she carried a lot of guilt.  But I’d tell her over and over, kids get to a point in their life when they must make a decision to do right or wrong because it’s their life and we can’t live it for them or direct it.  She did her best.

We did all sorts of things together.  We’d take the kids to see Bible Man (I didn’t know there was such a thing till she told me!).  We’d take them to see the Power Team, a bunch of muscle bound guys who were evangelist.  We’d take them out on their boat.  But most of all – we always took them to church.  Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night.  And if there was something special we could do, to get all the kids down to Canton together, we’d do that too.  Jessica Whitten was the brain of that operation most of the time.

One time we were going to have a sleep over and Jessica planned it to be a Luau.  She and Dennis built these little huts with paper leaves on top for the kids to sleep in, and we had water balloons, a kiddy swimming pool, movies, popcorn, you name it.  It was a blast. 

Pauletta never failed to bring up one of these events though! Oh my gosh, I’ve made some big mistakes in my life but this one had me in tears.  We had the pre-teens in the group in a sleepover, and before bedtime that night we were going to do a “Fear Factor” thing.  It was my idea (rolling my eyes now).  So, we lined them all up against the wall in the basement.  The deal was who ever could go through all the tests we had would win.  We started with biting down on a lemon and not wincing.  Lev sat down at that point, and a few others.  Then I had a can of Beef Hash that I’d relabeled as dog food.  Oh, there were a few that I thought were going to absolutely barf! I remember one little gal that turned literally GREEN!  But she did it.  And I remember one of Lev’s friends taking the bit and saying “looks like corned beef hash!”.  LOL!

I’d had this idea while making homemade ice cream just a few weeks ago.  When you put salt and ice together, they get EXTREMELY cold.  I remember putting my hand in it and I just couldn’t stand it after a while.  So….I did it.  I gave each one a piece of ice and sprinkled salt on top of it and told them to shut their hand.  If they could stand it, they would stay in.  One young boy said to me “My ice is gone”.  I opened his hand and there was a huge WHITE BLISTER!  Pauletta saw it and she screamed “Open your hands! Open your hands!”  Then the kids all started crying, running to the water to wash their hands off.  I still remember one little girl, the one that turned green, crying so hard.  I just cried with them.  I couldn’t do anything about it at that point.  The next morning when everyone came to get their kids I had to tell them what happened.  That was so horrible.  I missed church that Sunday morning because I knew everyone was mad.  I was told that Wednesday night that one of the nurses at the school was asking who did this down at Canton.  They were all going to see the nurse. 

Pauletta NEVER let me forget that.  We’d be talking and if anyone else was there, she’d make me tell the story, and then she’d laugh because I cried with the kids.  The morning after when they were all waking up and their hand hurting, she told them all to “Suck it up! You’re killing Mrs. Faithie!” Those sweet babies would come by and say “Mine doesn’t hurt Mrs. Faithie.” But I knew it did.  Even years and years later when Lev was a teen, she had me telling the story one night and I found that one of his friends was in that group – and I didn’t even remember him being there.  He had a scar on his hand from it to prove it.

Pauletta was always there when I needed her.  One morning when Gabby was about 3 years old, I took the kids to my Moms to stay.  They stayed with her and my dad while I worked.  When I got to the door I found out that my dad had been very depressed, to the point that they had called my pastor to come see them (not wanting their church to know about it).  I knew he needed treatment so I left the kids there and went to get my brother.  While on the way I called Pauletta, told her everything and asked if she could keep the kids.  5 minutes later I get back to my Moms, and there she was – in her Pajamas, loading my kids into the car.  She had my kids for three days, and would call every night to see how Daddy was doing.  I asked one night, “Do you want me to come get them”? and she told me – “No, they’re happy here. We lock them in the closet for an hour a day and whisper to them under the door – WE’RE YOUR PARENTS! WE’RE YOUR PARENTS! They won’t even recognize you when you get here!” LOL!  And sure enough when I got there, Lev is playing with Tyler, and Gabby is sitting in the floor watching TV.  She turned around and said “Hi Mommy” and turned right back to the TV! LOL! They both loved Pauletta. How could they not?

We’d talk on the phone often late at night.  I remember one night watching the Blair Witch movie.  I never watch horror movies because I know the Bible says to think on things that are pure and good and true and there’s nothing good in fear.  But I sat there alone one night and watched in, and was so terrified to go to bed that I called her crying one night around 11.  She laughed so hard at me, and then prayed with me.  At this point I’m crying just remembering it.  Dear God, who will pray with me now when I’m afraid? Who could I ever open up to like I did her?

Back in the years when Gabby was a just a toddler – so I’d say maybe the year was around 2000 or so.  She became involved in the Walk to Emmaus movement.  It was a Christian retreat weekend where men would go one weekend, and then women the next.  She went on weekend 24 I believe, and then sponsored me on weekend 25, which was an overflow weekend.  They had too many women sign up and couldn’t get them all in, so they did Walk #25.  It was very secretive as to what it was about.  That was mostly so that each person could have a unique experience with God without any expectations or set thoughts.  So secretive in fact, I almost chickened out.  Then she told me just relax, “would I make you do anything you wouldn’t feel comfortable with.” LOL! I should have said “Yes, of course you would!”, but I didn’t.

That weekend, on a Friday night she came and got me and drove me to the church in Hoptown where it was being held.  On the way she told me that I shouldn’t be alarmed when they bring a goat into the church, and everyone rides on it – and I should too.  I was appalled! A goat? That’s the sign of a sinner in the Bible!  And when I got done getting outranged, she laughed her butt off at me.  And then says, I’m just kidding, but there is one thing you’re not going to like, but just keep and open mind.  I agreed to do so.  That weekend brought me closer to God than anything else in my life.  I’d been saved in 1971 after my family was in a car accident.  I know I was saved that night in my Momma Pearls house.  But I never knew and understood the deep, eternal, love of God until that weekend.  At the end of the weekend we are all given a chance to say something about the weekend.  I remember getting to the mic, and bursting into tears saying “God loves us sooooo much!”.  I looked at her and she was bawling!  That was one of the most loving, life changing things she ever did for me. 

A few years later she sponsored her Dad to go.  One of the most heartwarming memories I have of her and her Dad, Paul was when Paul go to the mic at the end of the weekend, burst into tears, and told her he loved her.  She ran forward from the pews in that little church and hugged him.  Her heart was leaking out her eyes! I still smile just thinking about that.

It was either during that time or later that she decided to go back to school to be a nurse.  She was going to HCC, and doing well, but would sometimes tell me she didn’t think she’d make it.  Then came the time for her to take her nursing test.  She failed it.  I tried to call and her husband said she didn’t want to talk to me.  Well, now that was tough on my heart!  I let it go for about 2 days and that Monday morning I was going to be working in Murray.  I made peanut butter fudge, her favorite, the night before and showed up at her house that morning unexpectedly.  She opened the door in her nightgown, and I just held the peanut butter fudge out to her.  She cried and cried, and I hugged her as tight as I could.  She let me in and we talked about it for a couple of hours.  It wasn’t long after that when she re-enrolled in nursing school, but this time in Madisonville.  She passed the next test and I was there to see her pinned. 

She told me many times after that day that it was God’s will for her to fail because Madisonville made her a better nurse.  She was a wonderful nurse too! She was my nurse later in years when I had my gallbladder taken out.  Of course, I joked with her about her rude bedside manner, and she threatened to give me another shot!

I remember her calling me several nights to tell me what horrible things she’d seen that day as a nurse.  Some of them were funny, some of them crazy, and some made her and me cry.  She was so excited when her twin sister Paula went to nursing school too. I kept telling “Please don’t work at the same hospital, seeing two of you would drive some of the patients insane!” I think they actually did work at the same place for a little while.

Years went by and they were offered rent free living for going to her in-law’s church.  Her Father-In-Lew was the pastor.  They were in debt and this was a way to recover.  So they moved into their house on the lake, and they left Canton and went to that church.  I was heartbroken.  But what was I to do about it? I knew they needed to get out of debt.  But as time went on she and I didn’t talk as much.  When we did I could tell she wasn’t happy there.  She didn’t have a good relationship with the in-laws.  We grew apart, but still would call each other every time something went wrong or we needed advice.  Admittedly, I called her most because I was miserable without her.  But we made other friends that filled that gap.  Jessica Whitten became my go-to for all my worries.  I was blessed to have Jessica come along at that point in my life.  We were both missing them.

Time went by and 2007 hit.  My first divorce.  I fell into depression. My parents had shut me out because I was a divorcee.  Pauletta called me up often.  We talked, cried, and we laughed.  She saw me through it and so did Jessica.  That year I started going to Trigg County Baptist, where Pauletta was going – and eventually Jessica too, my sweet Uncle, and others.  It felt so much like a family there.  I remember when church was over we would all gather into the center isle and talk for so long the preacher would have to tell us it was time to go home!  So then we’d talk in the parking lot. 

I don’t like to talk about 2008.  I hit an all time low in my life as a mother and as a woman.  I let a man enter my life who told me he was a pastor and a southern gospel concert organizer.  Yet in months to come, after being married to him for 5 weeks, I found he was dangerous.  I remember sitting at a Bible Study we were doing at my house one night, and knowing that her mom had committed suicide when she was a little girl, he said that people that commit suicide don’t to go heaven (that’s false by the way).  The look on her face at that minute will ever be stuck in my heart.  One night he said to me at the dinner table one night “I could own you.  I could own your retirement, your car, this house, everything.” That was just one of several threatening statements.  The divorce was settled the next week. But for some crazy reason, I kept trying to figure out where I went wrong, what had I done?  I was then a failure on two marriages in my parents’ eyes.  I’d brought him into my home, and he’d tried to rule my own children.  I had hit a disgusting, spirit breaking rock bottom.  I saw a counselor after that for several months.

Pauletta and all my friends would call me up during that time and tell me he was no good.  I just wouldn’t listen.  Finally, after a 40 day fast from breakfast and lunch, God revealed it.  Exactly one year from the date I first met him, I told him to never come near me or my kids again.  Pauletta’s words were “Well, it’s about damn time!”.  I can still hear her voice saying it - and she was right. 

Just days after that I remember going to her house with some friends to bring in the new year.  That house was special. She and Philip had built that house themselves.  In the walls they wrote Bible verses all through it.  I always thought what a cool think that was to do. 

In 2009 I met Don.   She was as excited for me.  Don is a good godly man who would lead me closer to God.  When I asked one of my friends about him, he answered “He’s a good man.”  I always thought, what an odd thing to say about someone, but now I know just how much of a good man, which was more than I could imagine.  Pauletta knew him and his daughter from Emmaus Weekends and Chrysalis weekends. 

When we got married I left Trigg County Baptist and we went to his church in Hopkinsville, Calvary Memorial.  I didn’t get to talk to her as much, but we tried to keep in touch.  Sometimes it would be months that we wouldn’t talk or more.  But when we got to talking it was as if we’d never been apart.  Eventually the drive to Hopkinsville for church got too long, and we realized we weren’t able to serve that far away.  So we came back to Trigg County Baptist.  At that time the church was really small.  Pauletta and Philip were two of a hand full that lasted through the church dwindling down.  We were so distant when I came back that it took a while for us to get close again – like weeks, but not months. 

Several things in Pauletta’s life were hard.  Losing her mom when she was just a kid.  Her first divorce. Her son constantly getting in trouble.  And then there was her step son’s grandchild.  I can’t remember his full name, but Philip was part of his name.  He was born premature, and never made it home from the hospital.  I remember praying for that child so many times in the days when he was in Louisville.  She’d call and give me and update, and I’d pray some more.  She was so attached to this tiny little baby boy.  When he did pass, she was hysterically crying.  I could barely make out what was wrong.  She, and the entire family were just soaked in grief and pain.  I went down to see her once they got home and took her some more Peanut Butter Fudge.  She broke into tears and hugged me tight. 

And then there was her beautiful granddaughter, Eliza.  She loved that child with every inch of her heart.  It was so cute how Eliza looked just like Pauletta’s baby pictures.  She was playing with Eliza often, having her come over, doing Grandma stuff, and so happy.  Then Tyler did some things that got him sent away for a long time. Eliza’s mom didn’t want her child to have anything to do with anyone near Tyler.  I can sort of understand that as a mom.  But all Pauletta ever wanted was to be Eliza’s grandmother.  She loved her so very much. I remember a year or two ago she called me crying and someone had sent her pictures of Eliza from some ball game or something.  She was so happy to see her but was so miserable not to be able to just be near her.  She told me at that time “I just want to die!” and I told her “No, you don’t.  One day she will be old enough to make her own decisions and she’ll come see you.”  Nothing seemed to make the pain go away, and I learned not to ask about Eliza.  It was like scratching the scab off a wound. 

Then came her divorce from Philip.  I won’t go into all the details, but she loved him.  At that time she thought he was the love of her life, but God had better things planned!  She left him because she had to – not because she wanted to.  Philip took some turns in life that she knew she couldn’t go down with him.  So, she moved to Paducah with her sister for a while, and then got her own place there.  She was so proud to have her own little apartment.  She bought an aquarium and fish, and even got a cat!  Yeah, I called her cat lady and talked about liter box smells a lot! LOL!

She dated a bit during that time.  Just different guys she would meet.  She wasn’t serious about any of them until one came along.  That would be her husband of a little under 10 months when she went to Jesus.  Michael was good to her – and she made sure I knew it.  She was always sending me a text like “Michael is washing my car!” “Michael is cooking dinner!” “Michael ran me a bath!”.  It was so good to know she was happy again.  And it was so much fun to kid her about robbing the cradle too! Michael is 10 years younger than her (but as he put it, he has an old soul).  Every chance I got I would tease her about it.  They were together for quite a while before I started asking “When are you going to marry him?” And he had asked her, but she just was happy like it was.  She was 2 for 2 at that point.  Two marriages – two divorces.  But over time Michael won.  He became the true love of her life, and she said so. 

She was cooking in their kitchen and singing to the song “Crazy” by Patsy Cline.  Michael came up behind her on his knee, and said something to her like “Am I crazy to love you?”  (I probably got the words wrong).  Of course, she said yes.  I owe a lot of gratitude to Michael for the way he loved her.  Painting her toenails, driving her to work when it snowed, and just being there for those long days when working as a COVID nurse was just too much. 

Her sister Paula got sick about that time.  Paula was diagnosed with liver disease, which just happens to be what Pauletta had.  I remember her crying because Paula was in such terrible shape.  She would go to Paula’s house and help her do things she couldn’t. Paula, having been her twin, was her lifelong friend – for every single breath.  I can remember when Paula would call and their voices were EXACTLY alike.

Losing Paula was something I honestly worried that Pauletta would not survive.  She truly wanted to die and said so many times.  She would talk to me about “when I’m gone…” stuff and that scared me.  One night she called, crying her heart out and said “Every time I think of something I want to tell her, I just cry because I can’t.  I’ve lost my sister!”  I told her to consider me her sister and call me anytime she even thought of Paula. 

During the months after that we talked a lot more often.  I’d text her during the day and I’d get “I’m at work. Call you later.” And she’d call me and I’d send her a preset message.  But often, when we had a chance we’d call the other back before the end of the day.  We wanted to be there for each other, and we were.  I remember her going through Paula’s laptop and finding so many pictures.  She’d send me some, and she’d cry when I called her about them.  And we’d talk till the tears went away.  I could never leave her crying, and she wouldn’t leave me crying either.

I’ve seen those little trinkets several times that say something like ‘sisters at heart – not by birth’.  She truly was that. 

Pauletta always loved dogs.  That’s why I was so surprised when she got a bird instead.  His name is Pedro and he’s a cockatiel.  She hasn’t shocked me many times in this life - but a bird - that was a shock!  About that time we got our little dog, Lollipop.  I’d call and talk to her about  my dog, and she’d talk about her bird.  Then someone found a little chihuahua on the side of the road, and knowing she once had one, they brought it to her.  His name is Peanut and he’s a little fella with big personality.  She really loved him, even though she would often complain about his puppy ways, LOL!  I remember Don and I going to see her and Michael after they moved to Benton and taking Lollipop.  Peanut was all about being Lollipop’s ‘boyfriend’, and she was scared to death! 

It wasn’t long after that when she would call I’d notice something she called “Nanny Belle Syndrome” after one of her ancestors.  She would just forget things – like important things, and things that we’d talked about before.  It wasn’t like her, but we were both getting old. 

We’d talked for years about going to the nursing home together.  It would have to be a nice one – one that didn’t smell like pee – she would tell me.  And I would tell her that when she got old, I’d steal her desert at the nursing home and tell her she ate it.  With “Nanny Belle Syndrome” she’d never know the difference! LOL!  After a while, I got to believing we would make it to a home together.  Me being 7 years older than her, I never expected her to go first.  Never until the early part of 2020.

In early 2020 she sent me a photo of her legs after she’d worked a twelve-hour shift.  Her ankles and toes were purple, and her legs were swollen like an overfilled balloon.  I didn’t think much about it except to tell her to stay off her feet (lol, she was the nurse…but I needed to mother her when she hurt, that’s what we did). 

As COVID went on she would call me and talk about the 3 layers of clothes she had to wear when working the COVID ward, and the face mask and shield.  She was miserable, sweating all day, coming home with a heat rash, and her skin would be sore from it.  Some days she would call me and tell me about the patient she had to watch die.  I remember the last one I heard of was an older man that had no one.  He had no relatives or friends.  She sat there with him and held his hand when he died.  It really touched her that time. 

When I caught COVID I called up my COVID BFF Nurse and asked what to do.  She told me what to take and would call and check on me.  I got over it in the normal number of days.  It was nice to have her checking up on me.  I always knew she loved me.  We’d never hang up the phone without saying, “I love you.” And “I love you too.”

I’m horrible at calling people though.  After being on the phone all day long at work, I just don’t want to be on a phone.  She called me one time – it was in 2021 – and I saw it was her.  I answered, “Hey what’s up?” And she said loudly “YOU SUCK AS A BEST FRIEND! DO YOU KNOW THAT?” She was right too.  Not until after she was gone do I realize that I didn’t appreciate our relationship enough.  I didn’t appreciate her enough.  After that I started setting reminders to call her, and would.  I’m glad she said that to me when she did. 

During that time she was still forgetting conversations we had and small things, still swelling up, and then one day told me she was having tremors so bad in her hands she couldn’t sign out at work.  I’d tried for more than a year to get her to go to her doctor.  For goodness’s sake, she worked with them!  The straw that broke this camel’s back was a text she sent me one day.  Her BP had gotten to something like 190/100.  I scolded her for not going to a doctor then, and she said she was going to keep a record of her BP and then go see the doctor.  It was months later she finally gave into going to the doctor.

Fast forward to July when she finally went.  Her doctor did some lab work and sent her home, only to get the results and have her admitted to the hospital for more lab work later that week. Then he scheduled her for a liver biopsy. 

She went into the hospital on 8/18/2021 for the biopsy.  Once she was out, she called.  She told me “I’m not going to make it.” And then told me that her stomach was swelled up and hard like a rock, and that she didn’t feel good, she was weak.  I cried and told her right then “Don’t you die on me!”  When she hung up she said the usual, “I love you!” and I answered “I love you too! Call me when you can.”

Later that night they took her back into surgery and found three liters of blood pooled in her stomach.  And yes, she had liver disease too.  They kept her under meds for pain for days after that.  She had a mid-line incision from her breastbone past her navel.  She was in pain.  A couple of days later and they intubated her and put her on a ventilator.  She was in ICU and I couldn’t go see her.  Her husband Michael kept me updated with her status as the nurses and doctors would call him.  They were giving her blood, and platelets.  The second week they cut back the pain meds trying to wake her up. A few days before she passed they started dialysis on her, and it seemed to be a turning point.  The nurse said she was nodding her head in answer to questions.  I was so happy to hear that – just elated!  Then the next day I heard that her eyes were still closed, but her eyes were moving.  I got even more excited.  My friend was coming back – she’d be coming home I thought.  I knew she’d have to have a liver transplant and possibly be on dialysis, but she’d be there.  She’d still be there.

In the early morning hours of September 1, I got a phone call from Michael.  He said “This is it.  She’s in cardiac arrest.”  Pauletta had a DNR, so we knew they couldn’t do anything at that point.  I cried in those hours, prayed, and begged God, and finally fell asleep.  Not long after that I got the second call, “Pauletta went to be with Jesus at 2:54 AM.”  I was numb at that point.  It didn’t seem real.  I worked the next day to keep my mind off it, but in the afternoon hours, I couldn’t think of anything else.  And that’s continued for over a week now. 

Tuesday afternoon will be her visitation service.  I’ll have one more chance to look on her face.  But I know she’s not there.  It’s just a body, and empty body.  Her soul is with Jesus, and one day I will be too.  I can just see her standing at the gate when I come in and saying “Well damn, it took you long enough!”.  To which I’ll reply “Shut-up woman! I told you not to smoke!”. 

She would tell me when I got onto her for smoking, “I’m going in the rapture!”  This past week while reading about the rapture I saw there were two flights out.  The dead in Christ will rise first, and then those that are living will be taken into the clouds too.  I just wish I’d had the change to answer her “I’m going in the rapture!” with “Yeah, but do you want the early flight or the late one, huh?”  That’s just the way we were.

I love you Pauletta.  Always will.

 

 

 

 

 


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