Oy

This moment of silence has been brought to you by my dear friend Oy.  

my little friend from Thailand, whom I worked with for seven years.  

who would tell it to me strait.  

who was always telling me I looked tired.

she always had a genuine smile on her face.

always.  

she could catch me making a mistake at work before I even knew it.  

she was always right.  

she was my constant lunch buddy.  

a constant chatter box. 

we talked a lot of our babies.

we talked a lot about day-to-day life. 

she fell into motherhood so easily.  

she was so proud of her McKinley.  

and so much looking forward to meeting her Jayden.

So many things I'd like to remember about Oy.  But, more than ever, I wish I would just see her walking around the corner at work...on her way back from one of her MANY potty breaks.

The story goes like this:  At 36 weeks pregnant, she went into the hospital due to some bleeding.  An ultrasound clarified placenta previa, and then she started to bleed again.  She then had a C-section.  She got to see her little baby boy and give him a kiss before he was taken to the NICU for a little fluid in the lungs.  I'm told she had a very satisfied look on her face.  And then...she lost a lot of blood, had many, many people working on her, and after nine hours, her body just couldn't handle anymore.  It feels so trite listing the details of a life ending in one small paragraph, but I tell the story because I think it's human nature to ask how a story ends, and if you're reading this, then you ought to know.

This week has been rough, with a roller coaster of emotions yet to come.  I'm struggling to really grasp that she is gone, and struggling to envision her missing out on so many moments in her children's lives, and struggling with how her family's future will play out.  Each day, as I drive to work, my stomach churns the closer I get.  I feel physically ill.  And with all the many things running through my head, trying to sort it out, and make some sort of sense of any of it, in the end, the only closure I have is this:  times of incredible sadness truly bring life into perspective.  As many times as I've played with Jude and thought, '"why I am I so lucky to be here, enjoying this moment?"  All I can answer is that I am.  And I am so very thankful for it.

These are some poems that my friend and coworker Sue wrote about Oy and Oy's death.  I think they are amazing.

Change In Plans

"Bleeding again--change in plans"

She says silently,

The contracted text message

Brimful of possibilities,

Questions,

Alarms.

No word, no sign,

No breaking of silent air,

The electronic haze

Loaded with emptiness--

Have you heard

Or not heard?

Waiting, wondering

Wonder of wonders--

Worlds without end--

Whirling stars of hope,

Planets awash in plangent music

With no notes.

In an instant, the message received:

The sudden sublimation

Of her soul--

Sweet silver vapor

As Body turns to Spirit,

Soaring up and away

With New Plans.

Reason

"I believe"

she said,

"that Everything 

Happens

for a Reason."

Belief: Acceptance that 

Certain things are

True or

Real.

Reason: An Explanation

or Justification

of an Act

or

an Idea.

Can you believe it?

If so, 

Can you accept it?

Is it true,

or real,

or justified?

Neither belief

Nor unbelief 

Will change 

the True 

or the Real.

We hold fast

to her Hope:

Everything

Happens

for a

Reason.