I'll Follow You Into The Dark

"Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go.  
Acceptance is a small, quiet room." 
- Cheryl Strayed, Author of Wild

At this point, many of you have already heard the latest on Paul through Facebook. For everyone else, here's the scoop:

In my last post, I mentioned we were spending Easter with Paul's family in Wisconsin. But as our two-week visit approached its end, it became more and more evident that Paul wouldn't be making our return flight to Buffalo.

So the three of us are staying at Paul’s childhood home in Oshkosh, Wisconsin where he has entered Hospice care.



We have long considered making Oshkosh Paul's final resting place on this Earth. After observing his almost immediate "release" when the decision was final, I can say with a fair degree of certainty that we chose correctly.

At various points in the last month, every one of Paul’s seven siblings traveled home to spend some precious time with their brother and each other. In true Coleman form, we enjoyed boisterous meals rounded out with a minimum of three to four protein choices. Ingrid bonded with her cousins. My sisters-in-law made sure there was never a shortage of Paul’s favorite cookies (oatmeal raisin, for some reason).

There were things back in Buffalo, though, that needed attention. So I boarded my return flight solo, the empty seats on either side of me stinging reminders of the rotten week ahead. 

Originally, the plan was to hit up Orlando after our Wisconsin trip. But instead of scoring autographs from Elsa and Anna, I would be spending the week selecting tasteful memorial cards and scouting out prime burial plots. 

Whichhave you ever done that? Shopped for burial plots, I mean. It’s weird, right?! I’d compare it to house-hunting with your real estate agent, only slightly less cheery. 

“Well, The Good Shepherd Hill has the most scenic treeline, which will be lovely in the summer months. But then you can purchase a package deal if you go with the plots around Ascension Bell. Depends what you’re looking for.”

So. WEIRD.

I fully expected to be wiped out after my cemetery tour. I had anticipated feeling a little drained after drumming up an obituary draft with our funeral director.

What I was less prepared to hit me so hard was the realization that the three of us would never be together in our little home again. Relics from Paul’s last few months in our house were like little knives to my heart every time I discovered them. Things like pill bottles tucked behind picture frames and vials of holy water resting on his bedside table.

It was gutting to see the recliner he’ll never sit in again, the bed he’ll never sleep in again, the flannels he’ll never wear again. Maybe that's dramatic, but as someone who weeps while putting baby clothes in storage, well, you can see how troubling this is for me.

But I survived. I accomplished what I needed to accomplish. Now I'm back in Wisconsin, and we are exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Paul’s days oscillate from “semi-tolerable” to “well, this is the pits.” Some days he can stomach a 20-minute jaunt around the neighborhood in his wheelchair. Some days he can’t get out of bed.

Tearful moments are often followed by welcome stretches of peace. I can only attribute these tranquil periods to the many prayers and well wishes being said on our behalf. That or my meds are triggering some choppy mood swings. Hard to say. Let's go with the former.

Thank you for being with our family in our sorrow. Your continued prayers and kindnesses mean more than I can express 
adequately here. 

30 comments:

  1. Liz i think of you all everyday. I was always amazed by what a strong devoted couple you are. There are no words to say how much you've both impacted my life.. Marion palliative care Roswell Park

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    1. Thank you Marion. Paul was blessed to have you on his team at Roswell. We are so grateful for all the ways you helped Paul (and me) to keep on going.

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  2. I’m so sorry. Nothing more I can say. x

    - Crazy Cancer Lady

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  3. I'm so sorry, Liz. I hate it all so much for you. You are each in my daily prayers.

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  4. Prayers for u and ur family I follow ur blogs and posts it's all so crazy and sad I'm truly sorry u and ur family r going through this all wishing u all the best ♡

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    1. Thank you so much Jessica. That means a lot. I so appreciate you reaching out.

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  5. This is so beautiful and heart-wrenching Liz. We are so grateful that you are where you're supposed to be and are praying constantly for Paul and your peace and strength. We miss you and love you guys so much.

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    1. Miss you too! Thank you guys for the constant prayers and for all of the help and support you've given us through the years. Love you.

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  6. Liz...we are praying for you - for strength and peace. I'm so sorry you have to go through this.

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  7. Our hearts are aching for you, Liz. We do continue to keep you and Paul and your family, in our daily prayers, too, for peace and strength.

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  8. Your honesty is beautiful. Your fight, inspiring. Your focus, unwavering. Thank you for being so strong in sharing your experience. Reading your thoughts narrate the unspoken pain of so many, allowing for even a moment's catharsis for those stuck under the weight of a thousand bottomless sorrows. Prayers, peace and light for your beautiful family.

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    1. Thank you for your kind, encouraging words. They are such a comfort, and I really appreciate you reaching out.

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  9. Thank you for sharing this very personal journey, Liz... please give Paul a hug from me and remind him how much the Paul family loves him ❤️

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    1. Will do, Nancy. You guys have always been such a steady source of support for us, and I am so grateful to you for that. Thank you.

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  10. God bless you, Paul, Ingrid and all those who love you. May you feel His Presence through this journey...

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  11. With you in prayer in this difficult time - Emily

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    1. Thank you for your prayers, Emily. They are much appreciated.

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  12. Your writing touches me every time. <3 I love you Liz, thanks for being the biggest bravest soldier of us all.

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    1. Thank you Mary. Sometimes I worry that my writing is TOO open or upsetting...but I'd rather be honest than insincere. Love you.

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    2. God has given you a beautiful gift, Liz! thank you for sharing it with all of us, and giving us such a great example!

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  13. Never give up. We're here fighting with you.

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  14. Your family is in our prayers and thank you. Your post make our own journey with cancer a little easier.

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    1. Thank you for the prayers. I am glad to hear that our shared experience makes the road even a little easier for you.

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  15. Liz I am keeping you and your family in my thoughts!! The unconditional love and strength you have for your family is inspiring!

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  16. Oh Liz...I am reading this and wondering how you're doing. Your writing is truly special. (It's not too open or too upsetting.) The love you and Paul shared shines through. Thank you for sharing about these difficult, deeply personal times. I hope you keep writing, and I hope doing so helps ease your pain a bit, or rather gives you a place to "put" it for those minutes you spend writing. Sending love and light to you and Ingrid. My sincere condolences to you and all Paul's dear ones.

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