Monday, February 27, 2017

Carol

My dearest friend Carol died unexpectedly last Monday.

On Mackinac, a huge accomplishment for us:)

I'm upset as I found out days later, and devastated to have lost one of the kindest souls I've ever known.  I'm worried about her Kitty, as I don't know who might take her, and I know Carol loved that cat more than anything else in the world.  My head spins knowing the mess that is left behind, and knowing I can do nothing to help after twenty-two years of helping.

It's also among the most bittersweet moments of my life.


 

I met Carol at church when I was newly pregnant with my oldest child.  She was different; her style choices indicated an attention to detail that was eclectic compared to most people's.  Within minutes of speaking with her you knew she wasn't like everyone else; she was challenged with mental illness her entire adult life.

Manic depressive and paranoid schizophrenic.  Let's drop the pretense and be open about mental illness; these are the chronic diseases she battled everyday I knew her.  We get coy talking about illnesses and diseases of the mind, tiptoeing around the subjects as if they are something to be ashamed of or feared.  Medications made a "normal" life possible for her up until this past year, when she suffered heavy setbacks.  Over twenty years I watched her tackle obstacles most people would consider to be nothing; my pride in her accomplishments was nothing compared to the lavish love and joy she brought my family.

Our early friendship was marked by going out to lunch every other month or so; she frequently was "up north" with her father and I saw her on trips to town.  She was one of the first visitors to the hospital when I had my babies, every Christmas and birthday she wrote poetry as a gift.  I remember the first time I realized how special she was to me; it was a few years after we had met.  About four months had gone by since I had seen her, and as we sat chatting I it dawned on me what a marvelous friend I had in this unique woman.  She was grateful to God for the life she led, even though it was frought with family drama.  Her mother and both of her older brothers also shared her diagnosis; her mother refused medication, as did one of her brothers. Her father, a highly successful businessman in his day, was resigned to simply keeping the peace.  Carol was his companion in this; together they kept hidden the destructive tendencies of the family they both loved.  As she shared more of her story I was amazed by her incredible fortitude to stay positive; her older sister, Claudia, had been murdered by her husband as a newlywed.  That incident was the one that sent a then-healthy Carol over the edge; she spent almost a decade institutionalized.  Modern medicines made life outside the hospital possible, I met her about three years later.  She couldn't drive, and had regular anxiety attacks when going somewhere new.  Her faith in God sustained her as she daily dealt with situations that would have driven others insane, she would joke it was good she already had problems as it made her more empathetic to her family's problems.

As her father aged, she took on more responsibilities; his vision loss prompted me to bring up driving to her. Surprisingly, she still had a valid driver's license.  She had gotten it at 16, and had faithfully renewed it every four years, even though it had been 30 years since she had drove.  For a year she prayed and pondered it, I had her start saying "I am a good driver and can help my dad by driving."  She reluctantly agreed to a lesson; I will never, ever forget driving with her while her mother sat in the back seat yelling obscenities at us.  Carol and I chuckled about it for years; her mom insisted a cop in Detroit had taken her license and we needed to hunt him down...among other things!  After that first lesson we had several without her mom in the car, less than a month later I received a call in the early morning hours.
 
"Katie, I just took Dad to the hospital.  He has pneumonia and is in ICU.  I was able to drive him there."  As I exclaimed my pride in her and concern for her father she replied, "but I came home and my mother is dead.  I think she fell down the stairs."  Rushing to be by her side, I had no idea of the horrors I was about to see.  I arrived shortly after the sheriff's office, and walked into her home for the first time.  

I almost didn't see her mother in the crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs...as she was partially hidden by trash.  Mountains of hoarded objects and debris filled the house to past waist high; the smell hit me as I hugged my friend.  I had visited her up north, and knew her home up there to be clean and neat.  I knew this was her mother's mess, and compassion for what she had dealt with swelled.  Over the next few days I helped her find a place to live, and make sense of the mess.  In the months to come our church family cleaned out the house, local businessmen helped her fix it up to sell.  Her father died a few months after her mother, and she decided to relocate to the north; 12 hours away.

Carol visited about four times a year, and we always saw her when we vacationed on Mackinac Island.  Her anxiety over the boat ride prevented her joining us on the island, over the years I decided to build her up just as we had for driving (she became a good driver and could navigate the 12 hour trip between her up north home and our hometown with ease.)  Three years ago the day came when she boarded a ferry to the island and we held each other tight as she fought her mind.  Stepping on the dock we laughed and laughed, overjoyed at her triumph.  She was able to join us again two summers later, in 2015.

 Girls only:)

With the kids at the Fort.

 Us posing in the bathtub at the Fort๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

 
 The Princess and her Aunt Carol.

My children all adored their aunt, who showered them with unique gifts they treasured for the novelty factor.  Almost all came from thrift stores, and reflected her eclectic tastes.  She was generous with her love and attention, and they enjoyed her company.  She was a godly woman who showed them truly how to trust the Lord in every situation, and to be happy regardless of lot in life.  While we moved to Arizona six years ago, she never forgot a birthday or Christmas, and always made my children feel special.

The news of her death hit me after a 60 hour work week launching Ride, and unexpected news that had saddened me greatly just two days before.  I was stunned; I had just been thinking I needed to call her that very week.  We hadn't talked since Christmas, and I knew she was struggling.  The past year she had slipped, and was suffering greatly.  Being in Arizona I did my best to encourage her from afar, even as I was dealing with the end of my marriage and the upheavals in my own life.  Learning she died on Monday when on Sunday I had actually told myself to call her and had then forgotten crushed my heart...in her hour of need I was too busy.  I called the King, who had loved her like a sister and who had admired her father highly.  He reminded me of her struggles, and of the Blessed Hope.

 Aunt Carol and the Princess, being silly many years ago.

Jesus.  Our Savior.  He had welcomed her with open arms, as did her father, her now-whole mother, and yes, her sister Claudia.  In heaven our Carol was reunited with her family, and they were well.  Carol was free from the struggles and chains that had held her captive, with those she loved and cherished the most.  As I shared with my children the news their beloved aunt was gone, it came up that they just knew she was hunting down my late sister Jenny and the Knight in heaven  to tell them about the family back on earth.

Carol had fought the good fight, fighting harder than most of us will ever know.  She has finished her race.  Heaven's gain is not my loss, for I will always cherish the memories and love she shared so freely with us.  May her life struggle with mental illness be held up as a standard that it shouldn't be stigmatized.  Rather, we should all love as freely as she did.

Rest In Peace, my dear sister and friend.  I will miss your listening ear, your gentle encouragement and your daily triumphs.  I will miss our adventures we always had when we were together, and how you loved my children as your own.  I look forward to the day we shall dance down the streets of gold, praising God for all He has done.  Until then, I shall remember the good and miss you always.

 
Update:  Carol died of natural causes.  Her heart simply stopped on February 16th; a welfare check on Monday, February 20th found her deceased.  So that call I didn't make on Sunday?  Would not have mattered.  Hopefully we will be able to have a service celebrating her life in Adrian soon; over 1000 people have read this post.  I am humbled to share the story of a much-loved woman by so many and do not feel I've brought her justice.

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