Christmas Came and Went

Though stressful, Christmas day was basically uneventful. My sister was here with me. We had an early lunch or late breakfast at Jack-in-the-Box, went to the cemetery, went to a movie, drove around looking at lights and then ate our Christmas dinner around 8:30 that night.

The day was truly so different than how I had imagined. Once again, instead of honoring my feelings and what I wanted, I placed another's feelings at the front of the line although my sister would probably disagree because I was more than a bit grumpy and a lot stressed. I had hoped for a day of devotion to Mother's memory, of walking the prayer labyrinth, of listening to the chimes, of experiencing the openness of all my feelings and tears, of being more in touch with my spirituality. And the list is endless, but I wanted to openly focus on Mother and the memory of our journey together.

I believe there is no such thing as coincidental happenings, so there was a reason for the way this first Christmas of my life without my Mother meandered around without any clear direction. I can only hold on to and believe God had control of the day and was with me, providing for me, giving me what I could handle and taking from me what He knew I could not handle.

Why do I feel so alone in my grief and my memories?

Cannot the weeping angel take away my tears?

Cannot the peaceful moment of her passing fill my heart once again?

If I could but stay focused on Tagore's thought that "death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come," then perhaps the tears would flow less, perhaps I could retrieve that peaceful moment.

The Purse of Tears and Comfort

Looking for a purse to temporarily use while mine is being repaired, I took an older one from Mother's closet that she had not used in quite some time. As I unzipped it, there, staring at me, lay four unwrapped sticks of Spearmint gum that had long ago fallen from its packet, two Kleenex tissues, a folded white handkerchief, a partially used emory board, three unopened packets of InstaClear eyeglass wipes, a comb, a ballpoint pen, an eyebrow liner, and an extra set of keys to her car, which was a garage-kept, mint condition 1988 Buick with only 42,000 miles that I sold in 2005.

I stood there staring at her purse and its contents, tears uncontrollably raced down my cheeks. Through tears I touched each article, trying desperately to feel where she had touched as my fingerprints mixed with hers from the past. As my vision continued to blur from the tears, I zipped up Mother's purse and placed it back in her closet.

I know her spirit continues to be with me and watch over me, but, for today, for those few moments, in the midst of crying out, I held something tangible that she had held. And, after the tears stopped, I felt a fleeting comfort cross my soul.

A Majestic Sentry

A MAJESTIC SENTRY

Feeling my mist-dampened face in the early morning hours,
I first wondered if I had wept throughout the night
As my heart broke into uncountable tiny pieces
Grieving over the death of my dear beloved Mother.

But searching the stones for any familiar name
Led me to the angel overlooking her spacious garden
And I felt her touching the spirit of each who slept
In the sloping graveyard sheltered by God’s church.

Each stone carried the briefest history of each occupant,
With dates of birth and death signaling the Alpha and Omega.
But what about the ones she loved and who loved her in return,
And the moments when smiles brightened the sunlit afternoon.

It was the memories of her life I carried within my soul,
Bringing comfort as they floated around me, gentle as the clouds;
But sometimes a memory would painfully squeeze my heart
Until I stumbled, alone and lost, in the grief of the dying.

Feeling the wetness on my face in the early morning hours,
I thought if I had truly wept throughout the night,
Then the angel had used each tear to wash away the grief
As she stood, a majestic sentry guarding this hallowed ground.



A MAJESTIC SENTRY©
Joyce E. Winslow
November 26, 2007

Good Night, Mom

Good night, Mom.

I love you.

Surely The Roller Coaster Ride Ends

To my friends who have suggested I write more, thank you.

As you know, I have been in a "funk" for a while now. If anything, it seems as though the emotional roller coaster gets higher, faster and more daring as the "known alleviating aids" lay helplessly along side the ride's track. There seems to be no place left in my life in which tears have not taken up residence. Not only have the tears moved in but they independently choose their own time.

So, in an attempt to re-focus, I have been playing around with this blog since about midnight. I must admit - having something to do seems to help. And in "doing this," I realize in the darkness of the night, the sun is shining somewhere in this world at this moment. And that is what I hold on to for this moment.

An Angel's Whisper

AN ANGEL'S WHISPER

Hearing the chimes outside your window,
Can the whisper be your voice?
Do I stay awake night after night waiting for you?
Do I push sleep aside so I will hear you calling?
Watching, waiting, listening – night after night,
Will I know, will I see, will I hear you?
Upon asking this, at that exact moment,
The chimes outside your window softly answered
And I knew I had heard your presence.
Sleep will come gently now for you are here.




AN ANGEL’S WHISPER©
Joyce E. Winslow
September 5, 2007

Threads of Love, A Journey Through Alzheimer's

Winnie Elizabeth Jones Winslow
April 10, 1923 – August 10, 2007


THREADS OF LOVE
A Journey Through Alzheimer’s

Under the cover of darkness, you were an unwelcome visitor,
And like a thief in the night, you stole a name, a place, a voice, a look, a word.
In your wake, you left vacant stares, tearful eyes unable to focus on a thought.
You came to destroy on an unseen battlefield and we had no swords to fight you.

As you marched through the middle of her life, emboldened with each new step,
You ravaged her memories of a long ago childhood and left her filled with fear.
Only after you staked claim to her body did you extinguish the light behind her smile,
And she was left in obscurity to face shadows with names she no longer knew.

Reaching out to her mother, her brother, my father – all those who had long ago died,
Mother wept because they became strangers and she thought their love for her had ceased.
Unable to reason or understand, she withdrew even more into her shadowy world,
Where she sought that one familiar voice, that one familiar face to bring her comfort.

Standing alone on the empty stage, her silent tears fell on the dusty floor of make believe
As the endless, unknown journey continued to strip away the decades of her life.
Yet, even as the battle raged, Mother saw an angel come before her in the dimness of her room
And we knew, joined together by these threads of love, I would stay and she was going Home.


THREADS OF LOVE©
Joyce E. Winslow
July 7, 2007

My Eulogy to Mother: A Loving, Gentle Education

Where do I begin?

As a child, with her recognizing my extreme shyness and shielding me?

As a teen, with me recognizing her shyness about certain things because I’m still waiting for THE talk!

As a young adult, when I questioned the existence of our Creator and about everything else while she lovingly, patiently walked with me through that “dark” stage, knowing all along, between she and God, I would return to my faith.

As a middle aged adult, when our roles began to ever so slightly shift but she so often kept trying to keep seeing me as a child although I may have spent most of my afternoon as a problem solver sitting in the jail’s holding cell with a probationer.

Today is where I begin.

Mother and I had shared a spiritual journey since the Fall of 2002. God walked with us every step of the walk, blessings were bountiful. Mother was in the middle stages of Alzheimer’s when diagnosed in April 2003, shortly after Jeanette and I had taken her to the Olive Garden to celebrate her 80th birthday.

Did she know me then? Absolutely!

For those of you who shared some of that time with us, you know we traveled up and down the roads of Brazos and surrounding counties, spending a lot of time in downtown Bryan, reminiscing about the “old” days.

You know we were Dairy Queen regulars because of her vanilla ice cream cone addiction, some of you even shared those cones with us.

We would drive through McDonald’s for senior cokes, sometimes hitting as many as three McDonald’s in an afternoon.

You knew you were welcome in her home because of that smile – O, that smile was the outward embrace of her heart loving you.

We would lie in bed laughing about so many different things. And when she would go to sleep, I would lightly stroke her hair or gently touch her face, trying to forever lock into my mind those moments so my memories would not fade as time moved forward from this day.

I spent countless hours and days and weeks and months and years answering her as she asked about so many of those she dearly loved. Finally, with time, the questions became less, perhaps partly because of memory loss, perhaps not.

And for those of us who were really lucky, we’ve got the memory of having received that special wink from her. She gave them sparingly. You had to work for it. But when she gave you her special wink, you knew she just gave you a little piece of her heart.

Did things change? Of course.

Did things get worse? Sure, but only in the last 6 or so months.

Did she still know and recognize me? Most of the time.

Did she still know and recognize Jeanette, Gordon, Tammy and Shannon? Most of the time.

Did she still talk? Just about all the time.

Could she understand her surroundings? Most of the time.

Could she feel joy, sadness and fear? Of course.

Did I bribe her with money to take 5 bites of food? You bet and she took exactly five bites and took my $20 bill.

Did I bribe her at times to take her medicine? You bet. I learned quickly she would look at me with some degree of impishness and a twinkle in her eye, take my $20 bill and then dismiss me without taking her medicine.

Could she hear your voice and have some recognition of who it was? Most of the time.

Could she tell me she didn’t like what I had cooked and could we please go get something else to eat? Absolutely! No question about that one.

I think what most folks don’t quite understand about Alzheimer’s is that the person is still there, still present, still wanting to hold on to life, still wanting to be held, still wanting to be loved, still wanting all the things we all want everyday. That’s all Mother wanted.

Did she know me when she began going Home? You bet. When I told her I loved her, she looked me right in the eyes with the most knowing, loving expression and I knew she was saying, “And I love you, too.”

God loaned Mother to me to care for her during this journey we shared. I took care of her the best and most loving way I could, always with God’s help. When He wanted her to come back home, I walked her to that bridge and God took her hand to travel the rest of the way.

So often Mother would ask me when she was going home?

On Friday morning, August 10, I held my Mother so close, kissed her a final goodbye and told her, “Momma, you’re going home now.”

The Unknown and the Unknowing

Where does one begin in this unknown and unknowing journey?

I begin August 10, 2007. It is with the deepest of love and respect that I have walked this journey with you, my dear sweet Mother. It is with this same deep love and respect that I now watch as you and God begin the final part of this journey. You are going Home and I am staying here. You have blessed my life. You have nurtured my spirit. God loaned you to me for a while. I did my best to take care of you for Him.

Winnie Elizabeth Jones Winslow
April 10, 1923 – August 10, 2007

Winnie Elizabeth Jones Winslow, 84, of Bryan passed away Friday, August 10, 2007 at her home. Visitation for family and friends will be from 6 to 8:30 p.m. Wednesday, August 15 at Memorial Funeral Chapel in Bryan. Services will be at 10 a.m. Thursday, August 16 at Memorial Funeral Chapel. The Revs. Dolores Gilbreath Felker of Jonah Overboard Ministries of Houston and Marie Nutall of the New Jerusalem Missionary Baptist Church of Bryan will officiate. Interment will follow at Bryan City Cemetery.

A fifth generation Texan and Bryanite, Winnie was born in Bryan on April 10, 1923, to Horace Otto Jones and Agnes Elizabeth Kubicek Jones Messina. The first time her parents met, Horace was teaching at Goodson School and Agnes was one of his students. Winnie's father, an attorney who served as Brazos County Clerk and District Clerk, was also the Brazos County Surveyor whose surveys were used as the basis for all Brazos County maps. Her father died when she was 13 months old, and her mother later married Anthony "Tony" Joseph Messina. Winnie grew up on the Messina farm along the Brazos River near Smetana and had a special bond with her Grandpa Messina. Winnie's great-grandfather, John H. Jones Sr., and her great-great-grandfather, Dr. Thomas J. Wootton, and their families were among the early settlers of Brazos and Robertson Counties. On September 20, 1941, Winnie married Ben J. Winslow, who was serving as a medic in the U. S. Army, 2nd Medical Battalion. Prior to being sent to Omaha Beach on D-Day, Ben was stationed at Camp McCoy in La Crosse, Wis., where he was joined by Winnie and their daughter, Jeanette. After he was sent to Europe, Winnie and Jeanette returned to Bryan where they awaited his return. After his return and almost four years after Jeanette was born, they had another daughter, Joyce.

Winnie was educated at Smetana School, Stephen F. Austin High School and McKenzie-Baldwin Business College. She was office manager and accountant for her husband's commercial construction company and later retired from The Eagle. A devoted wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, Winnie was a lifelong student of various religions and philosophies. She was an avid reader, writer, genealogist and gardener. Winnie will be remembered most for her commitment to her spirituality, her engaging smile, her "green thumb," her special recipes and cooking skills, and, particularly in her last few months, giving her family and friends a special wink she learned from her daughter Jeanette.

Winnie was preceded in death by her husband, Ben J. Winslow; father, Horace Otto Jones; mother, Agnes Elizabeth Kubicek Jones Messina; stepfather, Anthony "Tony" Joseph Messina; and brother, Horace "Wayne" Weldon Jones.

Survivors include her daughters, Jeanette E. Winslow of Houston and Joyce E. Winslow of Bryan; three grandchildren, Gordon Boswell and wife, Debbie of Pearland, Tammy Boswell Kosub and husband, Kenneth, and Shannon Boggess Muse and husband, Jason, all of Katy; six great-grandchildren, Abigail and Blake Boswell of Pearland, Texas, Ashley and Kyle Kosub and Madison and Haley Muse, all of Katy, Texas; one brother-in-law, Jack E. Winslow and wife, Ruth, of Franklin, Texas; and numerous cousins, nieces and nephews.

Pallbearers are Jason Muse, Buddy Haney, Richard Hubacek, Doug McKee, Del Rowe and Billy Ebner.

The family would like to express its thanks to Hospice Brazos Valley in Bryan, with special thanks to Dinah, Emily and Laura for their love, kindness and compassion.

Memorials may be made to Hospice Brazos Valley in Bryan, 502 W. 26th St., Bryan, Texas 77803.