Bad Night

I am notorious for bad timing and some would say bad choices. That some would be Joe. How many times did he just shake his head after I had one of my patented "Holland" fits? Those fits usually either followed or resulted in a bad choice. Tonight however, there isn't a fit to blame for anything. Tonight is a result of a bad choice of something to pass the time. That choice? Browsing through all the photos on my iPad. What are most of those photos of? If you said Joe, then you would be correct. I didn't intend to look at photos of Joe but rather initially started looking through the photos I had on my iPad in an effort to get rid of photos that I didn't need or want to keep. However, I documented many of Joe's doctors appointments, chemo infusions, emergency department visits and hospital stays on my iPad. From early during the time of his surgery all the way through the last 23 months. It's like a photo dairy of the changes that Joe went through. Why was this a bad choice? Besides that it brought on a rather intense episode of anxiety, but this episode is in the same week when I do not have a counseling session. Jennifer was going to be out of town most of the week so I opted last week to just skip this week and schedule for next week. It seemed like a good idea at the time. (hint: bad timing) So rather than just sit here continuing to cry and carry on, I decided to start writing.

Tons of thoughts going through my head. Some about Joe during the time of his illness, some about the times before. Some about when we first met. Some about the life we had planned that will never happen now. Joe used to tell me time and again that he had waited his whole life for me. I used to just laugh and say "sure you did". But in reality, I know that he really believed that. I know that he loved me so incredibly much. I felt it every day and I still feel it. Maybe that is why it hurts so much. I know that we had something so incredibly special and rare. I remember the day I told him I loved him and the look on his face. We were standing in the kitchen of my house in Hope Mills after Hurricane Floyd had come through and a tree had come through the roof of my house. That day, he drove down, without letting me know and just showed up. Why, because he knew how upset I was over the damage and even though he couldn't help with the roof, he could be there and help calm me and hold me. I looked at him that day and told him I loved him. He stood there and tears ran down his cheeks. Tears of happiness. He had waited for nearly a year to hear me say it. Such was his patience.

Another thought that keeps coming and coming into my brain and I can't seem to get it to go away is an example of my bad timing and a bad choice. On the night that Joe died, instead of following my usual Sunday night routine of getting the trash together first by getting the downstairs trashcans dumped and then going upstairs to our bedroom and bath, I chose to not go upstairs since we had only been home from the hospital for 2 full days and there was hardly anything at all in the trashcans upstairs. So rather than going back upstairs, I gathered the trash downstairs, took it out to the big trashcan and rolled it out to the curb. Why didn't I go upstairs like I usually did? Maybe Joe was struggling and I could have done something to help. Maybe I could have delayed what I know was inevitable, but he might possibly still be here with us. Why did I make the choice to change my routine that one night? That's one bad choice I will never have the opportunity to correct. That's one matter of bad timing that I will regret for the rest of my life. I discussed this will my counselor and even discussed it with Joe's mom. My head can come up with reasons but my heart can't. I've been told by those that I've talked with that more than likely, there would have been nothing I could have done. Joe had a DNR and DNI order. I could have called 911 until the cows came home but they would not have been able to do anything once he stopped breathing or his heart stopped beating. Some have said it was Joe's choice to die when I was not in the room. That he would not have wanted me to be a witness to his death. That he waited until I was out of the room. I try to take comfort in that but so far it hasn't helped.

So I looked at photos. Photos from the years before his diagnosis. Photos of us together oblivious to what the future held. Photos where we thought we had all the time in the world. Photos where we had no idea what the future actually held. Photos after diagnosis where Joe continued to smile and try not to let on to how scared he actually was. Photos where Joe's smile covered his fear for what my life would be like after he was gone. He loved me. He worried about me. Some nights when we would go to bed, a big sadness would come over him and he would cry. Each time I would ask why he was crying he would always say he was worried about me. So selfless, so loving, so Joe Lupton. He used to ask me why I loved him and my answer was always the same thing: You are the best person I have ever known. Truly a good person. Never having a bad thing to say about anyone. Always looking for something positive no matter what might have been said or done. Always forgiving. Always seeing the best in everyone. I can only remember one occasion when he couldn't offer complete forgiveness to someone. On that occasion, I was livid, having a "Holland fit". He was angry but rather than resort to yelling and carrying on. He handled the situation with poise and in a truly Joe Lupton like manner. The occasion: A student had stolen his credit card number and gone on an internet shopping spree. She was caught. The school only gave her a slap on the wrist but he did press criminal charges. Of course, the justice system didn't do anything either but Joe got the last laugh. A very classy one. Of course she did have to leave his class but during a drama in class performance "talent show" type of production, she had chosen to sing a Broadway tune. Others had planned to sing and Joe had offered to accompany them on the piano. But he told the drama teacher up front that he would not play for her. I guess she didn't believe him, but Joe was a man of his word. When she stepped up to sing her song, Joe just sat there. Stone faced, yet looking her in the face. Hands at his side, never touching the keys. She tried it a cappella but not having someone to accompany her left her warbling all the wrong notes. Joe came home that day with a little satisfaction. Not revenge, but just happy that he had held firm and not given in to the pressure from the outside. The school nor the justice system had helped him, so he helped himself. This story may not paint a saintly picture of Joe, but then he wasn't a saint. Just the best person I have ever known and I expect that I will ever know.

I hope everyone who might be reading this had the chance to spend time with Joe. If so, you have your own stories. I have heard from hundreds of people: friends, students, parents of students, co-workers and family. All have their own stories and memories and they usually involve Joe doing something really good and having a positive influence on them. His influence on my grows stronger everyday. He may be gone but he still is changing my life. I wish with all my heart that he was here and our lives were changing and growing together but that wish will not come true. All the tears that I continue to shed don't change anything except exhaust me. I have learned one lesson from today though. Don't pass up the opportunity to see the counselor regardless of how I may feel at the time. Just because I feel pretty good on the day of a session, doesn't mean I will feel the same the next week, or even the next day. If the opportunity is there, take advantage of it.

So what lies ahead this week. Of course 3 more days of work and then on Saturday I will venture to Greenville for Brittany's 14th birthday dinner. I plan to go early so I can visit with Joe's mother and have lunch with her. That way we will get to spend most of the day together before going out to dinner for her birthday dinner. His mother is of course still having trouble dealing with Joe's death as is to be expected. We talk regularly and the phone calls seem to help us both. If I can help her and she can help me, then it is a win win situation. Besides, Joe would be so happy to see us getting along so well.

Ok, i've typed all that is coming to my head. I'm tired and should probably turn in. Maybe sleep will come soon. If not, then there will probably be a p.s. attached!

I continue to be very grateful to everyone who continues to reach out to me offering prayers and support. I would like to once again thank everyone at PGUMC. If people think I'm a mess now, I can only imagine what I would be like if I didn't have so many people at church helping me. Another thing for me to be thankful to Joe for: introducing me to PGUMC.

(it's late and I have not proofed this so please forgive the bad grammar or misspellings)