Tim has a new pet in heaven

Smokey, Tim's pet, had to be put to sleep Thursday, December 20th. She was 16-1/2 years old and we'd had her since she was about 6 weeks old. The last week or so she'd gotten to feeling bad, didn't play with her companion and niece, 14 year old Misty like usual, didn't really want to do anything except lie down, and then the last couple of days Smokey didn't want to eat. I don't know if she was even drinking anything. I took her to Hewitt's Animal Hospital and veterinarian Amanda Lewis examined her, drew blood, then x-rayed her. Smokey's belly and chest cavity seemed to be filled with fluid, so they drew some off with a syringe. It was all blood. She was extremely anemic and had lost a lot of weight. The vet couldn't tell me where the blood was coming from, just that Smokey was extremely sick. There just weren't any good options. The probability was that a tumor was eroding a blood vessel in her abdomen. At her age, exploratory surgery would require a specialist in Columbia to perform, and even then there was a low likelihood of finding something treatable. The only kind, compassionate thing to do was to put her to sleep.

I was so horrified and grief-stricken that I just broke down. I called Shelby and she came down to be with Smokey and me, we held her and talked to her, stroked her head and told her she was my pretty girl, and the vet gave her an injection. One little breath and it was over.

I had thought maybe Smokey needed insulin again or perhaps an antibiotic, but nothing really too serious. She'd been so strong, so beautiful, except for a supposedly benign growth on her lower lip -- now I have to wonder if that growth was indicative of other internal growths or tumors. The vet had told us several years ago that it wasn't anything to worry about, it probably wouldn't heal up if they tried to remove it and it didn't interfere with Smokey eating or drinking.

Smokey had been Tim's pet for the last several years, always sitting on top of Tim's talking book machine on his desk (where it was warm) or in his lap. After Tim died, Smokey grieved right along with me. She wouldn't even get up on his desk, although I left the book machine there for a while before returning it to the Library for the Blind. She wouldn't go into his office and sit on his windowsill or anything, just seemed to revert to me, wanting to be in my lap if I was in the living room, or by feet if I was in my office.

Last night I could hear Tim telling me how beautiful Smokey is - is, not was - and that she's strong and healthy, able to go in and outside at will, looking all around her new home and getting used to being there. In my mind several months ago I'd seen Tim running across a field, playing with his white German Shepherd Star. Now I'm seeing Tim petting Smokey.

Misty came and sat in my lap Thursday for almost the first time, even before I took Smokey to the vet. She seemed to know that Smokey was sick. Misty had never wanted to sit on anyone's lap before, although she would sit by my side on the chair or down by my feet in the recliner. And she usually sleeps on the bed beside me. From Thursday afternoon until now, she's quietly, softly walked from room to room, looking for Smokey. I talk to her and try to play with her as much as possible.

She and Smokey had sort of a stand-offish relationship. They chased each other around the house, spit and clawed occasionally, but then would call a truce and lie down near each other. Smokey usually let Misty eat first, although sometimes Misty would just back up and let Smokey get to a food dish first. Misty was the offspring of one of Smokey's sisters and they were shaped alike, medium sized, sleek, Siamese type -- Smokey's mom was a full-blooded seal point.

I really miss having Smokey but if there are pets in heaven, and I'm sure there are, then she and Tim are back together.





Smokey was solid black, Misty is solid gray.

Visions

Ora Lee has had several "visions" or hallucinations lately, seeing Tim, Theron, and her mom standing together and looking over at her, as if to say, we're waiting for you. It's not unpleasant for her, rather sort of comforting. She never sees her dad or anyone else, for that matter. But these three people are those who have loved her the most and who she has loved the most, here on earth. I have no doubt that they are indeed waiting to welcome her.

There will be a lot to do, see and absorb when she arrives there. I don't think she has any idea of just what excitement and joy she's in for at that moment, but she is looking forward to it more and more these days.

After being in the hospital three days again last week for more IV treatment with Lasix (third time in the last month), she returned to health care at Bethea on Saturday evening. Bryan and Sam, T.C. and Olivia, Angie and Liam, as well as Dale, were all there. The "Come to Bethlehem" event was going on at Bethea and Dale was very involved in that so it was good that Bryan and everyone else were there.

Ora Lee has now signed a DNR order - do not resuscitate. She says she is tired of hospitals, and since there is very little they can do to help her now I can understand that. Her kidney function has gone downhill a lot in the last month and she is having more and more problems with fluid retention, including around her heart.

Tonight is the Christmas Dinner at Bethea and Ora Lee invited John and me to come as her guests, and Dale said this morning that she was going to try her best to be at the dinner. I sure hope she can.

Imagine "Friar Tuck..."

The other night I was meditating and praying about whether heaven has any kind of entertainment... you know, plays, movies, books, etc. , and an interesting scenario began playing out in my mind.

I was totally fascinated as I was given a glimpse of a group of people talking and laughing among themselves. After watching them for a while, here's what I concluded.

Heaven is definitely not boring. There is laughter, fun, joy, playing, singing, dancing, and even drama. Serious drama and comedy!

People don't become all-knowing just because they're in heaven. Some have been there for hundreds, even thousands of years, and they still don't know everything. They have to learn the scriptures, just like we do. They have to learn self-discipline, and worship, and getting along together, and how to do certain kinds of work and assignments.

There are classes and workshops, auditoriums, laboratories, libraries, universities, archives, studios, theaters, amphitheaters, cathedrals, concert halls and rehearsal halls, low-tech and high-tech everything. All in addition to the Throne Room and individual homes and villages and rolling hills and seas and lakes and the wonderful city full of activity, both above ground and below ground.

There's continuous learning and inventing and trying-out and practicing, improving and modifying, and just plain having a fascinating, exciting and fulfilling life. Everyone's work assignment from the Lord is designed especially for him/her and changes from time to time. Nobody ever gets bored or sad.

So back to my question about entertainment. First I was given a little lesson about how some things are taught, scriptural things and historical things. Some past events are portrayed in holographic-type skits, designed and sometimes even performed by those who were there at the time.

Newcomers who want to know what it was like in the days of Elijah can go see a reenactment of his miracles, Elijah himself explaining and describing what they're seeing! Now that would be worth getting in line for.

So what does all that have to do with Friar Tuck? I asked the Lord whether all this was strictly for educational purposes, or was there ever anything fictional, you know, just for fun. For entertainment.

And then in my mind I was taken to a Robin Hood play rehearsal, to be performed by a group of folks just for their own enjoyment -- a "limited engagement." It was hilarious. Modern-day believers, most of them, had no idea what to do with some of the props. They had researched and created what looked right, but they'd never worn clothing like that and they looked so funny getting into costume.

The funniest was the fellow playing Friar Tuck -- nobody in heaven is overweight, you see, but every Robin Hood movie I've ever seen shows Friar Tuck as roly-poly. Pillows? No pillows handy. Some other kind of stuffing -- layers of clothing, maybe? It was like some skinny fellow playing Santa Claus in a shopping mall.

Everybody was having a wonderful time with this rehearsal, laughing at themselves and each other. Then I asked -- so, Robin Hood was really a fictional character, wasn't he. Here's what I heard in reply:

Well, actually there was a "Robin Hood" but he was more than one person. He was a composite character, many people written up in English traditions as just one for the sake of the story. Lots of embellishment was added as the years went by.

And the various "Robin Hoods" weren't all honest, either. Some of them robbed the rich and gave to the poor today, but then robbed the rich and kept the loot for themselves the next day. Still, the traditional story had a nice moral to it, good triumphing over evil and all.

These actors were going to play it that way, if they ever got their costumes on and started the rehearsal! One of these days I'm going to ask the Lord to show me their finished production.

Thanks Giving; "Think" Giving

Setting apart one day a year to Giving Thanks is not just an American tradition, other countries do it too, thanking God for many things - food, clothes, family, freedom, houses, cars, jobs. As I look back over the past few days, I realize that we often give thanks for what we've got from one side of our mouth and complain about what we haven't got out of the other side of our mouth. I'm just as guilty of that as anybody else.

This year Tim's mom Ora Lee was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving -- just as last year, Tim was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. It was a horribly bittersweet memory.

She was suffering from fluid retention, her legs very swollen, her heart and kidneys showing the signs of disease. That's what was happening to Tim last year. Sympathy ailment? No, she really does have heart disease and her one kidney isn't working 100% well.

Ora Lee had been in the hospital a few weeks earlier with the same symptoms, treated with IV Lasix, her medications adjusted and she was doing much better, everyone thought. She was looking forward to being with her family down at the Hemingway farm on Saturday after Thanksgiving.

But the improvement didn't last long, the same symptoms returned, so back to the hospital for more IV Lasix, more medication adjustment. She's back home at Bethea again now, released yesterday morning, but not feeling quite strong enough to make the trip down to the farm. So most of her family that were at the farm have been up to see her instead, which works out better for her.

In the back of my mind, I can't help but remember last year, and the "thinking" is requiring some discipline. The Lord (and I believe Tim) keeps telling me, just get through it and get past it, and the way to do that is by frequently reminding myself, "Look forward, not back."

I went out this afternoon, planning to go to Hobby Lobby and buy a few plastic or silk poinsettias to take to the cemetery, but they're closed on Sundays. Good for them. So I went to Toys R Us instead and bought Liam a birthday present. He'll be 3 on December 11th. I got several stuffed toys - a gray life-like, life-size bunny rabbit, a solid white one, and a soft stuffed Ratatouille toy - Emile the Rat.

I'll send Liam one of those (probably the gray rabbit) along with a card and a check so Angie can use the money to help with his birthday party. I'm not sure what I'll do with the other toys, but they were so cute I couldn't resist. Especially Emile!

I remember a stuffed life-like, life-size dog (terrier) I got one year, and how much that one toy meant to me. I'm not sure how old I was, probably still in grammar school. I talked to him like I would a person. Dolls didn't seem life-like, so although I enjoyed playing with dolls, that stuffed dog was a bit more important. I have no idea what happened to it over the years, but I thought about that dog and his being very life-like in size and appearance when I saw the bunny rabbits.

Liam has so many toys he probably won't really appreciate this one, but I'll like thinking about it being there in his collection.

Last year, Tim got a chance to talk to Liam on the Tuesday before he fell on Wednesday, although the conversation between Tim and 2-year old Liam was a bit hard to understand. He'd had a birthday party and Tim was asking him if he'd had a good time, that sort of thing, and Liam chattered away in 2-year old.

Tim was very glad he'd had the chance to talk to him on the phone, because we had not been able to go down there. Tim was simply too sick still for us to drive to the beach.

This year Tim can see Liam, he can even attend the birthday party and watch for himself how much fun he has, and that's something I can think about with a smile.

I do give thanks that I know where Tim is, that he's healthy, very busy, observing and interceding for me, for Angie and Vernie, Bella and Liam, Ora Lee and all the rest of the family, and that we're still a team.

That's always something good to think about.

It's hard for me to look forward to the holidays...

I'm having a hard time looking forward to the holidays suddenly. Christmas decorations are going up in the stores, some even went up before Halloween. Now Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is coming up and suddenly it's hard for me not to be sad. I'm having to work at it.

Whenever someone asks me how I'm doing I try to always say "I'm doing good." And that's usually true, whether I feel good physically or emotionally or not, my spirit is usually okay. I know the kind of life Tim has now and in some ways I'm very jealous. He has no worries and no pain. He has so many friends and family to spend time with, besides having Father God, Jesus, and Holy Spirit to "bum around with." And he has quite a lot to do, varied activities and assignments that are fascinating and wonderful.

Last year this time Tim was having more and more trouble physically, his heart and breathing were giving him more and more problems, and although he tried really hard to always be upbeat and cheerful, I knew he didn't feel good. He developed a cold, unlike him, in the week before Thanksgiving. That turned into bronchitis, then severe congestive heart failure and he was admitted to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving. He actually had a heart attack in the ER waiting to be admitted.

I do not want to spend these days remembering all of that. I want to think about how he is NOW, who he is with NOW, what he is doing NOW, and most of the time I succeed. It helps that I can talk to him, and the Lord lets me know some of Tim's activities these days.

Yesterday afternoon I went to visit Harold for a little while, for an update on his recent photography workshop / trip to the Outer Banks. Afterwards I went and took a couple of photos of trees around town that I liked, then drove to the cemetery and took several photos of the newest flowers (fall colors) I'd put in the vase. I could just hear Tim reiterating that he doesn't like that place!

Recently I made him a promise not to spend much time there, and not to spend much money on flowers in the future. Maybe just when the seasons change I can change the main colors of the arrangement, use the basic greenery and just add a few new ones each time. Eventually, maybe give up even doing that. We'll see.

I promised Angie that I would join the Cox family for Thanksgiving dinner the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving dinner I will be at Shelby's. I am trying not to remember last year's miserable holidays and obey the Lord's - and Tim's - reminders to look forward, not back.

He means well...

The other day an elderly gentleman who has been a typing customer for many years came by to pick up some work. When he was leaving he made a comment about my hair. It was a little longer than I usually wear it and he said he liked it that way. He'd never made any kind of personal comment before so that surprised me. He usually justs asks how my cats are getting along, pays me for the typing and leaves.

Then he added something about eligible gentlemen probably admiring long hair more than short, or something equally irritating to me. I realized that he thought he was being courteous so I just smiled, wished him a good week, and he left.

I did find his attitude offensive, however. I never think about Tim in the past tense, I think of our relationship as a long-distance marriage -- really long-distance -- but ongoing. If that feeling ever changes, then those kinds of comments won't annoy me, I guess.

I spent some time Saturday with Ora Lee out at Bethea. I had bought her a pay-as-you-go cell phone of her own so she could return Dale's to him, then I programmed her family phone numbers into it. I showed her how it worked and it should be easy for her to use. She's now in her own private "Dorm" room with her own belongings, and except for having to use the wheelchair to get to the dining room, seems to be doing much better. She's supposed to be getting a motorized scooter to help her get around by herself. We'll see how that works.

Autumn and orange flowers

I went by the cemetery a couple of weeks ago and checked the summery yellow flowers I had put on Tim's grave. Some were beginning to deteriorate. The brown sunflower centers had become detached from some of them and others were beginning to fade. I took them all out of the vase and turned the vase over, leaving the marker empty of flowers temporarily. I was thinking, fall will soon be here, it's time to put some new ones in anyway...

Suddenly as clear as a bell I could hear Tim say, "Please don't spend a lot of money on more flowers to put out here."

I reminded him once again, "Honey, they aren't for you to look at, they are for other people. Remember what your mom and your Aunt Betty said?"

They had expressed the same sentiments I had, that it looks like people don't care when gravesites have no flowers, or if the flowers haven't been cared for in a while. Even if the families do care, the appearance is that they don't. I just don't want to give that appearance to any visitors.

"Well then, just buy one or two orange ones and use the others that are still good, put them back together and that should be plenty. Okay? Please?"

So I said okay, and that's what I did. I only threw away a few of the flowers after all, the ones that had come apart. Most of the others still looked okay and all of the greenery was fine. I went to Hobby Lobby one afternoon soon after that, picked out a few pretty autumn orange flowers, came home and made a new arrangement. This time I did a better job of getting the stems together, then took some tin foil with me to fill in around the bottom of the vase and drove back over to the cemetery. I like this arrangement better than the yellow one and it should last a good while.

I know Tim really doesn't like that place. I know it's not the kind of scenery he's seeing these days, which is spectacularly beautiful. In my mind I try to visualize what kind of landscape surrounds his new home, but I'm quite sure it's far more gorgeous than anyone here on earth can possibly imagine.

Still, now and then the Lord prompts me to see the beauty right here on earth, and as I see the leaves beginning to take on their fall colors I am so grateful for it. All those greens! All those browns! All those golds! Those sprinkles of orange, and yellow, and red among the greens and browns. How lovely the fall can be.

And all the multitude of shades of green, brown, gold, orange, yellow, and red -- the Master Designer planned every one of them, created them in His mind first, then brought them to life here on earth.

Recently the Lord asked me a question: Have you ever considered leaves? Well, no, not really. Then the thought came to me -- how many different leaves are there in the world? How many shapes? Colors? Shades of green? Type of edges? Sizes? Textures? Thickness?

I started thinking about leaves. Some are pale green, some dark, some are dull and some shiny. Some are thin and some thick, some very large, some very small. Some have sawtooth edges, some are smooth and straight. Some are delicate, nearly transparent. Some are leathery, others velvety to the touch. From broad magnolias to tiny ferns, God designed leaves in an infinite variety then gave them to us. And that's just an infinitesimal fraction of his creation...

He pointed all this out to me that day. He designed, created, and gave these to us, to me, to notice, look at, enjoy, and give Him the glory for. And I do, I am grateful for God's beautifully designed creation all around me, even the artificial likenesses of His autumn flowers and leaves in the vase on Tim's grave marker.

Iceland, without Tim

The end of July, Hans asked me if I would like to go to Iceland. Not just to see Iceland, but to be aboard the Logos II while it was in port there for two weeks. I said yes, and on August 15th I flew out of the Florence airport on my way to Rekjavik. A connecting flight in Atlanta, another one in Boston, then on through several time zones up to the "Top of the World," the "Land of Fire and Ice," the "Land of the Midnight Sun." It was an adventure, to say the least. I have started writing some things down - see my regular website for those stories, www.bettecox.com.

I took the above photos (four merged into one) while standing in the parking lot of the Iceland Coast Guard Station in Rekjavik, just a couple of blocks from where the ship was berthed. It was a clear sunny day and I took the pictures one right after the other, but for some reason unknown to me at this time, the lighting on each shot was slightly different. I still like it.

All the time I was there whether on the ship or off, I could sense Tim with me. The Lord spoke to me a number of times, explaining various things I was seeing, elaborating on what I was seeing or thought I already knew. It is a beautiful, small island nation full of touristy sightseeing spots, such as the geyser, the volcanic section, the places where the tectonic plates of Europe and North America meet, the Blue Lagoon full of geothermically heated hot water, the glacier, and lots of lavender-looking hills. You get a sense of those in this photo.

I was wishing Tim and I had been able to travel together, but I realized that he was seeing all of these interesting things and experiencing the island for himself not limited or hindered in any way. I didn't have to try to describe the indescribable to him, he was perfectly able to take it all in with all his senses! And maybe not for the first time...

So I talked to Tim as I walked around (not out loud of course), talked to the Lord, thanked God I was able to be there, that I had obeyed Him when he told me the first of the year to go get a passport. He created this beautiful place as he did so many others. Man hasn't been able to completely mar His handwork, and it's His pleasure to share it with me.

I believe there will be other trips, other beautiful places God has made that I will get to visit in the days ahead. And I believe Tim and Jesus will be right there with me, wherever that turns out to be. How neat.

No title, just thinking

I re-read my last post and thought I'd jot down a few things. On Tim's birthday Angie, Liam and I ate lunch with Ora Lee in the dining room at Bethea. That was Angie's idea, coming up for the afternoon. She brought Liam because Bella had somewhere to go, and besides that Liam is a happier traveler, usually. He's such a happy little 2 1/2 year old, friendly to everyone who came by the table. And a lot of people at Bethea did come by the table, stopping to greet Ora Lee and telling her they were so glad to see her back in the dining room. She had been having her lunch in her room in the Health Care wing nearly every day. But I think Liam was one big magnet too, it's not that often that a small child comes to Bethea for lunch. He seems to thrive on the attention and really behaves excellently.

The next Wednesday (July 18) was Ora Lee's 88th birthday, and she wasn't feeling well enough to go back over to the dining room. Her back pain had flared up again so she was staying in her room for meals. But a variety of people came by to see her and to wish her a Happy Birthday during the day. Angie came back from the beach, this time bringing Bella and Livvy (Olivia, Tim's niece) with a birthday cake Livvy had baked.

I went to see her after work and Ora Lee's sister Betty and her husband Harold were there. Ora Lee had saved some of Livvy's cake for us so we enjoyed it with her. We had a nice visit, and since then I've called her to see how she's doing. She is still doing physical therapy and Dr. Richey says he wants her to stay another few weeks, because her back pain is still bothering her quite a bit.

I'm sort of glad July is coming to a close... it's been very different not having Tim here to celebrate these special occasions with us. As I wondered if birthdays are celebrated there like they are here, I seemed to hear Tim say "And how! Not just physical birthdays, but spiritual birthdays." Well, the Bible says the angels rejoice when someone is born again.

Now those are parties I'd love to see -- friends, relatives, angels, Jesus and everyone celebrating. Thinking about that makes these July birthdays seem a little less sad indeed.

Happy July Birthdays to Tim and to his mom Ora Lee

Wednesday, July 11th Tim would (will) be 61 years old, with some gray in his beard but very little if any in his hair. In his family there are several birthdays in July, pretty close together, so they have been celebrated together the last few years down at the family farm outside of Hemingway.

On July 18th Ora Lee will be 88 years old. Right now she's spending a few weeks in the Health Care wing at Bethea, taking physical therapy and getting her strength back after a bout of back pain. She is feeling much improved this week and is able to get around better, even going back to the main dining room for lunch the other day.

It's hard to believe so many months have passed since December 15th. On the 11th I will celebrate Tim's birthday, probably just here at the condo. And on the 18th I'm sure a lot of the family will help Ora Lee celebrate her birthday. I know Tim will be joining in from heaven as we sing Happy Birthday to her!

Ora Lee still has an assignment to finish up down here, prayers to pray and phone calls to make and notes to write, things that only she can do to make that difference in someone special's life.

I'm so glad I took the camera with us that Sunday before Tim died, when we went over to visit Ora Lee at her duplex apartment at Bethea. I took a picture of Tim and Ora Lee together (see above) and it came out very well. It has meant a lot to her and it does to me too.

Well, that's enough for this post. Happy Birthday in advance, Honey. I wish you were still here in person to celebrate it, but I know the kind of parties they have in heaven outshine anything we could put on down here!

Mama

It was a lot of little things that did it. Something I saw about the National Cemetery here made me think about Mama.

I thought about Mama refusing the grave-site for daddy there when he died because there could be only one plot per family. She bought two side-by-side cemetery plots at Mt. Hope.

Other little things made me think about Mama some more.

Tonight I thought about the recurring bad dreams I had for years, nightmares really.

In 1970 Mama disappeared, vanished off the face of the earth. She left all her stuff in the house and her car in the driveway. No-one knew where she could have gone. Frantically we searched but years went by without a trace of her, no letter, no sighting, no word at all.

In my dreams I searched, going from house to house, person to person, even to neighboring towns, all without success. In one dream I was staying at my grandmother's house when Mama left, and I was devastated when I realized she was gone without leaving any indication. In another dream I was at her house, going from room to room searching for some clue but finding none.

I refused to believe my beautiful talented mother would simply abandon my brother and me and disappear willingly like that. She had grandchildren that she adored. She couldn't have left them voluntarily. And in my recurring nightmares I looked for her everywhere but never found her.

The fact is, she did abandon us. She did leave voluntarily. In June of 1970 Mama died, and for many years I had those nightmares of searching, and searching, and not finding her.

Tonight I cried for her again, missing Mama, missing Daddy, and missing Tim, still feeling abandoned but understanding us all much better.

I might cry again one day but they will be tears of self-pity, selfish tears. Not tears of anger, resentment and bitterness like they were in the past. And they will be short-lived, because I know that they are together now, these dear people I loved and still love.

I don't have to search for Mama any more, she and Daddy are together. And Tim is getting to know them as the days go by.

Six Months

Yellow Flowers
Friday will be six months since Tim died. Yesterday I took my camera to the cemetery to take several shots of the grave marker and the yellow flowers I'd put in the vase some days ago. I wanted to check that the flowers weren't blown away by the storm the other night.

When I got out of the car, it was as if I could hear Tim say, "This place is creepy, all these graves for people who aren't actually dead..." I understood what he meant.

If Jesus was their Savior, they are more alive today than ever, enjoying the beauties of heaven and the wonder of His presence, as well as the fascination of whatever assignment they have now.

I told him, "I never thought about it that way. Anyway, I'm not doing this for you, remember. I'm doing it for other people." I checked that the flowers were okay, then took my photos and headed to the grocery store. Time for cat food and kitty litter again.

As I pushed the cart up one aisle and down another, I passed by things I don't buy for Tim any more, but this time it didn't bother me so much. I looked at the fresh fruit and wondered what kind of snacks Tim nibbles on these days. Ice-cream flavored "grapes?" Cheese-flavored "canteloupe?"

And what delicious things does he have for breakfast, lunch and supper in heaven -- bacon-flavored "oranges?" Scrambled egg-flavored "apples?" Grilled chicken or green bean-flavored "bananas?" (In addition to oranges and apples that taste like oranges and apples, of course.)

Tim is okay, much more than okay, really. And we will be okay, too, his family who still miss him so very much.

What is Wrong With People?

For many weeks I did not hear from Mrs. x or Miss y. or Mr. z after Tim died. I saw some of these folks at church but they didn't get close enough to ask how I am doing. If I headed their way, instead of a greeting, they offered a nod. Sometimes when they saw me, they even turned away and walked in a different direction. Having a death in the family gives you a dreadful germ, like the plague, I guess. Even in church.

I did get in the face of one young fellow that Tim and I used to be friends with. I asked him how he was, since he didn't ask me. He sort of stammered, then apologized for not having spoken to me in the weeks since Tim died. He actually had the guts to tell me "I didn't know what to say."

I think I know his problem. Like so many of our Christian friends, he had prayed for Tim to be healed. But Tim died. Was it a failure of his prayer? A failure of his faith? Was everything he believed wrong? Instead of seeking answers, he avoided the questions by avoiding me.

Some people acted like they're afraid death might be contagious and maybe I'm a "Typhoid Mary." They sent me a card but they wouldn't talk to me in person.

I discussed this with several pastors and elders at my church, suggesting that perhaps we need a grief ministry. Somebody to insure that newly bereaved members aren't left to grieve alone in the weeks and months to come. But nothing was done. It's as if a bucket of fried chicken and a basket of flowers is enough - "Everybody's too busy, somebody else will probably do it, it's not my job, if you think it's a good idea then you do it," etc., etc., etc.

Things have improved in recent weeks, I'm glad to say. Most people seem back to normal, greeting me and asking how I'm doing now, seeming genuinely interested again. So I tell them, forgiving their earlier behavior.

And I have decided to make new friends, do new things, go new places, and try not to take that avoidance behavior personally. Because I don't think it's personal. I think it's fear. What a pity.

"If you've done it to one of the least of these, you've done it to me..." needs to be taken more seriously. I am praying that I myself will take that verse seriously, no matter what Mrs. x or Miss y. or Mr. z does or doesn't do.

Anniversaries should still be celebrated

May 14, 1960, in the early morning hours between midnight and daylight, my daddy (Harold Whitten Motte, Sr.) died of a heart attack the week before he was scheduled to have open heart surgery at the Medical College Hospital in Charleston, SC (now part of the Medical University of South Carolina). I was a high school junior and had been to the Junior-Senior Prom at McClenaghan High School. I came home, went in to kiss him goodnight and never saw him alive again.

I usually just mark the date in my mind when I recognize it on the calendar. I haven't actually been to my parents gravesites in some time, never taking flowers for their graves, as I have been doing for Tim's. (Actually I took some bright yellow flowers out to his grave this afternoon; yes, yellow. I actually found a baby yellow begonia for the house last weekend, too.)

I have never thought of my parents as being at the cemetery... until Tim died I had always thought of them as being far, far away in some blurry expanse of clouds, doing something peaceful and restful. And dull and boring.

Mother died in 1970 so daddy was already there, maybe getting a home ready for them to share, I thought. What else was there for him to do? I had no idea. Now I realize that they are both very busy with work assignments and learning opportunities, and also enjoying music, praise and worship as they did here on earth.

Oh yes, I'm sure they're participating in music somehow. "Daddy sang bass, Mama sang tenor, me and little brother would join right in there," the old song goes. I'm not sure if daddy really sang bass, but he played a banjo and sang with a barbershop quartet off and on.

I don't remember ever hearing mama sing but she did love music. After he died she taught herself to play the piano, playing a variety of hymns for her own enjoyment. She taught a children's Sunday School class and loved to teach the little kids some gospel songs and choruses, so I guess she must have had to sing them herself. I bet she continued practicing in heaven, playing the piano while daddy plays banjo - or some new instruments they have discovered along the way. And I bet Tim plays his French horn or sings right along with them.

Imagine all the instruments ever invented throughout all of human history, plus some still yet to be discovered here on earth, all being used to glorify God. Not all played at once, but in combinations small or large, glorious melodies and harmonies. I don't believe all music in heaven is necessarily religious but it must certainly all be wonderful. Love songs. Folk tunes. Maybe even beach music, that would be a blast!

Some weeks back I had a mental image of a great pipe organ with pipes of crystal, not metal, and I could almost hear that sound. The depth and height of those octaves can't be duplicated on earth! I played a big pipe organ for some years, and I still get a thrill from hearing those deep rumbling bass pipes and the high, high flutes.

This week I had a mini-vision of a different kind of piano among all the musical instruments in heaven. Instead of the soundboard and strings being encased in a wooden box, these strings were completely exposed in a large separate frame. There were far more octaves than on my Baldwin Acrosonic. The player sat in front of the keyboard facing this great frame of strings across a short distance, maybe a few yards. As a key was pressed, a grouping of strings for that note was struck by the hammer. It was still a piano sound, but what a sound! It makes me want to find an inventor and have him construct one for me, here and now.

This past week as I realized it was the 47th anniversary of daddy's death, instead of visualizing a boring, cloudy expanse, I visualized daddy, mama and Tim in a noisy concert hall full of fun and laughter, music and melody, where fabulous pianos, crystal pipe organs, gold and silver French horns and every other imaginable and unimaginable instrument is being put to good use. Think what those rehearsals must be like!

So I celebrated that date a little differently this year, entering into their marvelous musical joy and excitement. As I'm sure you can tell, I no longer think of heaven as a dull and boring place.

Begonia

No, it's not yellow, but it does have green leaves... And no, it's not in a cement planter, it's in a flower pot up on a stand. But I see it every day as I come and go, water it and talk to it a bit. I tell it "You're such a pretty plant, a pretty flower, bloom, bloom, bloom." We'll see if I can keep it healthy during the spring and summer.

I went to the cemetery and collected the red, white and blue silk flower arrangement from Tim's grave. Still in place and intact, it looked pretty good despite the several windy rain storms in the last few months. I noticed scattered flowers from other arrangements here and there that had blown off the stems but none of mine seemed to be missing any blossoms.

The large red ones had faded somewhat (as expected in our South Carolina spring sunshine) but the white and blue flowers still look like new. The styrofoam I had stuck the stems into had broken into several chunks, though. I definitely need a more sturdy base. A wire form, maybe? I'll make another trip to Hobby Lobby for flower replacements and see if one of the staff there can suggest something.

Even though Tim won't care if there are flowers at the cemetery or not, I think I'll keep some there for a while, for other people's benefit.

The present arrangement will go into a vase to keep here at home, faded red flowers and all. Actually, I like it. It was my first attempt at silk flower arranging and I did a pretty good job if I say so myself.

Heartstrings

I read two newspapers every morning, our local (Florence) Morning News and the State Paper. I make a mental note of events going on within driving distance and ask myself -- do I want to make the effort to attend this? Usually I answer, no, not really. Not enough.

Some are things I know Tim and I would have enjoyed, like town festivals. Some are speakers, singing groups, sometimes plays; perhaps I would enjoy it, perhaps not. But getting the motivation to actually go there, do that, is the hardest part of this daily decision-making process.

Yes, I have the time. Yes, I have the money to buy gas and tickets to get in. Yes, I have the interest, sort of. But no, I don't have the inclination, motivation, gumption, get-up-and-go to actually do it. Too many remembrances are attached...

I think of all the events Tim and I attended together over the last 24 years or so. (We would have been married 22 years on Christmas Day, 2006.) When we first started dating, he was a member of multiple boards and commissions across South Carolina, community based health organizations or civic groups.

He owned his own car, even though he was blind. He said it was always easier to get someone to drive him to a meeting if he had the car, and that was true. I started driving him from meeting to meeting, and we got to know each other better along the way.

One in particular was a speaking engagement to an ADA (diabetes association) meeting in Beaufort. That one took many hours of travel to and from. Because I was driving him, I often got to sit in and listen to whatever was going on, even board meetings. That was quite interesting and educational for me.

Tim was a state board member of the South Carolina Chapter of the American Diabetes Association and over the years I came to know several other board members. After attending Crimestoppers of the Pee Dee board meetings with Tim, I eventually was invited to become a board member also. We did that together for about ten years.

Full Gospel Businessmen's chapters in both South and North Carolina would invite Tim to give his testimony, and he sometimes would sing with soundtracks as well as speak. One song he especially liked to sing was "He Didn't Lift Me Up to Let Me Down." I loved to hear him sing.

Tim's solo singing ended after his heart bypass surgery. His voice box was damaged by the airway down his throat and he went from being a tenor to a baritone. After he recovered from that surgery he didn't like the way his voice sounded and it was way more of an effort to do it. Pretty soon he stopped singing with backup tapes. But he played his french horn for church services, refocusing all his breath and energy into worshiping and praising the Lord that way.

And we kept on traveling, Tim attending or speaking at lots of meetings and me driving sometimes, or us taking in festivals and conventions and concerts sometimes.

I'm not interested enough in traveling alone, I guess, to go to many of those things by myself. I can still talk to Tim as I drive, talk to the Lord, listen to good music or tapes in the car, but it's not the same. Maybe one day, but not yet.

So I'm finding new things to do, things we never did together, places we didn't go, events we didn't attend. These don't bother me much and they are becoming part of our new NOW life together. I see people and places from the viewpoint of how Tim might be seeing them (he actually is if I ask him to). It's fresh and different, with no backward looks, no reminiscences of past occasions that remind me how much I miss Tim's physical presence.

Like my grand-nephew Jesse's Little League baseball games. I went to a mid-season playoff game this morning, sat with his grandparents Harold and Mary Lois to watch him play and enjoyed it. No twinges of grief and sadness, no remembering the last time Tim and I did this, because we never did this, and it was okay. It was really okay.

Tomorrow I'm driving down to the beach. I plan to attend church with Tim's daughter Angie, her husband Vernie, 5 year old Bella and 2 year old Liam. I will have lunch with them, hang out for a few hours and then attend Bella's dance recital at Coastal Carolina University at 5:00 PM. Tim and I did go to church with them one Sunday last year but we didn't attend Bella's last dance recital, I don't remember exactly why right now.

The last time I drove to the beach alone was Christmas Day, ten days after Tim died, to have lunch with his family. That was very, very hard. I'm counting on tomorrow's drive to be easier.

And I'm counting on all tomorrow's events to be okay, too. Tim and I will see them together. He will be able to see them! It will all be new and fresh, and it will be okay. Really okay.

Perspective

Where you stand makes a difference. If you stand too close to someone when you talk, they back up. Their personal space was invaded. But you can see someone better from close up, right? So you want to be fairly close when you're talking, especially if you don't want to be overheard or if you're in a noisy environment and want to hear better too.

The same is not true of perspective. Being too close skews everything, distorts everything. You can't see the "big picture" if you're too close to the Person. Event. Issue.

It's been over four months since Tim died, and my perspective has changed. A little distance from the event has done that. Sharpened it, actually. Increased my focus on some aspects of the person, the event, and the issue - life. Past, present and future, the ongoing NOW life of Tim that stitches them all together in one fabric. The NOW life of me myself.

A couple of times during these months as I have talked to the Lord and to Tim, I searched through photos of Tim and picked several to keep on hand in the kitchen and office. It's easier to talk to Tim when I'm looking at a photo and visualizing his face. And I came to realize just how physically tired and ill Tim was last December.
When I asked the Lord what Tim looks like in heaven, he directed me to a couple of photos from the 1980's. One was our wedding picture. One I pulled out yesterday was taken in the parking lot at Creekside, where Tim is leaning against his Cutless Supreme and smiling as he looks directly at me holding the camera. Except that he has more hair now, this is pretty much what he looks like.

Comparing that photo with the last December photo, it's easy to tell how tired Tim had become. He's not tired now, though - he's full of energy and enthusiasm, interest and excitement. He tries to stir up more of those attributes in me these days, get me out of my physical, emotional and spiritual lethargy in the mornings. "Up and at 'em!" I'm not a morning person but I'm trying.

My perspective on our NOW life together is gradually changing, and I'm having fewer lonely, self-pitying afternoons. Less intense ones. I find reasons to do something, go somewhere outside of the condo in those times. Sometimes I save up errands so I can do them later in the day, the worst time of day for me. And then I ask Tim to go with me when I leave the house.

As I drive down roads and streets and walk around in stores, I look at these places as he is looking at them. Some of these he had never seen before and my descriptions of them in the past had been very skimpy. It's hard for me to try to describe something "on the fly" as we drive or walk pass. Now Tim is seeing for himself those streets and stores and commenting on them. Pretty. Crowded. Junky. Busy. Interesting. Expensive. Hmmmm. Now I understand, he says.

Then as Tim describes his present-day life and activities to me I try to visualize his environment as he is looking at it, and my perspective of life and eternity changes too. From time to time the Lord gives me a glimpse of what is ahead for Tim, for me, and for the world. He enlivens my perspective! He expands, widens, broadens, deepens it, yet focuses and clarifies it, like letting me examine a wide-angle high resolution photograph with a magnifying glass.

Keep things in perspective, people say. They usually mean don't go overboard, don't take things too seriously, don't be a fanatic. My changing perspective might require some or all of those, considering what lies ahead.

Colors of spring, colors of life

This week I've wandered through three stores looking at pot plants, thinking I would put a planter box on the cement pad outside my side door -- that's the door I use these days, the one in Tim's office. There's a plastic chair and a garden statue of the child St. Francis (a Christmas gift) there now, but I'd like to replace them with something bright and cheerful, a planter box full of colorful spring, summer and fall blossoms. Colors Tim would like.

I asked Ora Lee one day what Tim's favorite colors were growing up. I always picked out colors of shirts for him according to my tastes, blue, red and white, or maroon mostly. But as I thought back to the clothes he owned when we first met, I thought he probably had preferred yellows, tans and greens. Sure enough, that's what she said. In fact, he owned a bright lemon yellow sports coat and a pair of grass green slacks one time. We finally gave them away several years ago because he'd outgrown them.

So I planned to look for bright yellow plants and a heavy (too heavy to steal) rectangular planter for them. I first went to Forest Lake Greenhouses and slowly walked around, admiring all the red begonias and pastel petunias. They had a few yellow chrysanthemum type flowers in small containers but nothing struck my fancy. Their only oblong planters were plastic and lightweight, too easy for someone to pick up and carry away. Most were round and most were plastic. I decided to keep looking.

Later in the afternoon I drove over to Lowe's, parked near the garden shop and perused their selections. Skimpy. They had less yellow offerings than Forest Lake. Yesterday I made my way out to the new Home Depot. The few other shoppers seemed just as disappointed as I was, frowning as they looked around. Aisles and aisles of sameness, shelves and shelves of more sameness. The only thing that drew my attention was outside, a display of two-toned yellow petunias, something I'd never seen before. If I had been able to find the planter I had in mind, I might have purchased some of those but their planters were plastic, too. Most were round, too.

Again I came home without a flower or a pot to put it in. As I pushed open the door and stepped into the house, I could clearly hear Tim speak to me.

"You're the one who's going to look at them," he said, "why don't you get a color you like? They have lots of those. And it doesn't matter if the pot is plastic or plaster, round or square, just get something you'll like seeing whenever you come and go. Since you use this door all the time now, you'll see it every day and you'll remember to water it."

He was reminding me of the plants I've put at that door in the past, how they usually died from lack of attention. Lack of water. He reminded me that he has plenty of other flowers to look at where he is; he won't care one way or the other whether the ones I put there to look at are yellow or zebra-striped.

Okay, since he put it like that, maybe I'll go back over to Forest Lake and take another look. I will ask somebody to help me pick a hardy outdoor plant that can survive through the summer.

One day this week I wondered what Tim was doing, and he said he was taking a few minutes to simply enjoy heaven's beautiful colors. I tried to imagine what that was like but it's impossible to do. We take colors for granted, shades of blues and greens in sky and ocean, reds and golds in trees and flowers. But in heaven there are colors we've never seen on earth!

For so many years Tim was blind. Now he can see colors! And far more colors than I see, some that don't even have names, nothing I can use to compare them to something I'm familiar with. What an interesting, exciting, wonderful way to spend a few minutes. I'll think about that when I go back to find a flower pot for the door.

Some folks don't want to understand, I think

I got another phone call this afternoon wanting to know how I'm doing, a gentleman with a very sympathetic tone to his voice expecting to hear me respond with self-pity, I'm sure. He seemed disappointed when I didn't. When I tell some people that I'm really doing fine, they seem puzzled and even annoyed. They seem to think I am not missing Tim as much as I should, I'm not as sad as I should be, not the loving spouse/widow I should be. They don't get it. And I don't like having to try to explain and listen to their doubtful expressions in reply.

Tim's physical body is gone, but he's not gone. He's not dead in the true sense of the word, he's more alive than I am. He can go more places, see more things, do more activities, and understand far more than any still-on-the-earth-in-this-life Christian can possibly understand.

I certainly do miss Tim's physical presence with me, but I am really doing fine most of the time. Late afternoons and evenings are the worst times of the day for me, when the aloneness seems to be stronger. That's when I talk to the Lord about it, talk to Tim about it, and it's much better.

Yesterday I went to the grocery store and almost got through the trip without thinking about all the stuff I no longer buy. I did point out to Tim that my tastes in breakfast food have changed, that I mostly eat cereal these days, not much in the way of bagels and cream cheese. He seemed to be telling me that I needed some variety, so I went ahead and bought some of those. We'll see how long it takes me to eat them... I didn't see anyone I knew and I was grateful for that.

I did skip the Powers family reunion, though. I left church after Sunday School with intentions of picking up some Kentucky Fried Chicken and heading to the reunion, but the more I thought about it the less inclined I was to go. I realized that Uncles Charlie, Mike and Palmer and families were going to be there and I would have liked to see them, but I just couldn't do it.

So I just came home, cooked myself a pot of chili, ate lunch, watched some TV, worked on emails, did some blogging, and read a lot. I don't know if we had the small group last night but yesterday was very stormy and I had no inclination to drive in a lot of wind, so I didn't.

I find myself not wanting to do much when the weather is bad, just hibernate with a book and an old television movie or something. The clouds are mostly gone today but it's still pretty windy and the windows rattle with it. So I haven't done much today either, just a little work on a client's typing, a little email, a little blogging, a little reading, a little news on TV...

I'm glad I know Tim is having a blast, learning, doing, anticipating. Knowing about all that is the reason I can truthfully say I'm doing fine, most of the time.

Day of Resurrection

There are a lot of people in heaven who have already been resurrected from the dead... that is, they already have a new physical body combined with their spiritual body. Enoch walked with God and was not, the Bible says. I take that to mean he was taken bodily into heaven without having to die and be resurrected first. Somebody must have been there to record that, else why would it be worded that way?

So was Elijah. And we know Elisha saw him as he left, being escorted in a grand fashion. Then, in the book of Matthew we read about the many, many saints who were raised from the dead along with Jesus, and who were seen by a lot of people in Jerusalem and no doubt other places before they went along with Jesus on into heaven. I believe these were the saints who believed in advance in the Messiah who was to come. The cream of the crop of the Old Testament, Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, the prophets, and quite probably John the Baptist.

So, there are quite a number of people in heaven who already have a physical body. Wonder how their abilities, their activities, their assignments differ from those who only have spiritual bodies and no flesh?

Questions like these come up regularly in my conversations with Tim and the Lord in the last several months. I do receive answers to my questions, but those are recorded in a quite private place for the most part.

But about those believers in heaven who have physical bodies already... sometimes you read about "angel" appearances on earth, bringing warnings or encouragement or instruction or assistance in some form. Because they appear and disappear, they are believed to be angels and not humans. But Jesus appeared and disappeared at will, after his resurrection. These appearances may just be incognito earth-assignments for David, or Abraham, or Daniel. Who would recognize them these days? Of course, they may also be angels.

Sometimes I am envious of all the exciting, interesting, challenging, wonderful activities Tim is involved in now, but the Lord reminds me that patience is a virtue and reassures me that my future assignments here on earth will blessed, interesting, challenging, and are necessary.

Thank You

Dear Friends,

I'd like to thank you for all the expressions of love and sympathy Tim's family and I have received since his death on December 15th (2006). Many folks have asked if Tim died as a result of all the health problems he'd had over the years and that's partly true, I guess. (See The Tim Cox Story)

Tim fell here at home on Wednesday, December 13th and broke his left leg close to the hip. On Thursday they operated to fix the leg and he had a heart attack in the Recovery Room. Although the doctors did everything medically possible to save him they could not get his blood pressure back up to anything near normal. Tim's tired heart finally just gave out and stopped on Friday afternoon.

Psalm 91 was given to Tim's mother by the Lord as an encouragement many years ago, and it promises long life to those who set their love upon the Lord. Tim was only 60 years old and that's not really a long life to most people. It certainly didn't seem long enough to me. But for Tim whose body had undergone so many attacks and challenges over his lifetime, it actually was.

Tim was the most courageous, kind, loving, and determined man I ever knew. He was my very best friend almost from the moment we met. Only my Lord Jesus Christ has ever been closer to me, and I miss Tim dreadfully. But today Tim can see, has both his legs, all his fingers and a strong heart, and I believe he is experiencing the greatest of joy with his Lord and with those who arrived in heaven before he did.

Some have said he's playing his French horn with the heavenly orchestra, others have said he's probably water skiing or driving his 280Z (if there is a way to do that in heaven), dancing, playing tennis, telling funny stories and all those other things Tim loved to do at some time in his life on earth. His daughter Angie said he's probably already been elected President of some group, organizing ways to help somebody else! They may all be right.

And he is meeting and greeting family and friends who went ahead of him, especially his grandmother and his dad, but many others who Tim loved. Tim's spiritual gifts included helping a multitude of other people and encouraging everyone he knew whether they were close friends or new acquaintances. I told someone that Tim could make a friend out of a wrong number, and that was true. He even put one lady who had dialed the wrong number on hold, then used our business line to get her the right number.

When I am tempted to feel sorry for myself, my heart hears a little voice telling me to "Look forward, not back." I am striving to do that, to look forward as I work to make the Lord — and Tim — proud of the way I live my life from this point.

A number of people have asked me about the Family Memories column. Actually, my writing it was Tim's idea in the first place. I think he would like for me to continue so I'll try to get back to it in the very near future. If you ever met Tim, would you let me know? I'm making a little collection of the various ways people were touched by his life.

In the meantime, Tim's family and I wish to say a heartfelt thanks to you for all the expressions of love and sympathy we have received. With gratitude and prayers for a blessed 2007 for us all,

Bette Cox

I use different routes these days...

March 19, 2007

The strangest things happen occasionally. I'll start to drive down a familiar street and realize that the last time I drove down this street Tim was in the car with me. Then I can't make myself continue down that street. I'll turn off somewhere, go a different route, even if my destination is one where Tim and I had been numerous times. There's just something about remembering that last drive on this street, this block, that gets to me.

The first time I went to buy groceries was like that. It was very hard. I no longer had to purchase certain things that Tim liked, that I previously bought just for him. My shopping list was much shorter, truncated, just as I felt my heart was. Pushing my cart down certain aisles became nearly impossible and I just didn't buy some things that day.

Last night as I drove home from my small group meeting I deliberately went the long way around, just so I wouldn't feel that same horrible aloneness when there should have been the two of us in the car.

For a similar reason I no longer use the front door to my condo much. I could, but now I park the car near the side door that Tim and I never used together because it has a step. I don't need the handicap parking space close to the front door so I just park near the side door. Entering the condo this way doesn't trigger fresh memories of the last time Tim and I went in or out of our condo together, and that way it doesn't trigger fresh pain.

Strange, the things I do to keep that pain at bay, the pain of Tim not accompanying me when I leave the house. Even though I went many places, many times, by myself in the past, it's those times we went in and out together that are still too fresh, too tender in my mind.

I know Tim can experience my comings and goings along with me, and he can see where we're going now where he couldn't before. Sometimes the Lord lets me hear Tim's reaction to seeing the inside of a place we'd been but he'd never seen, like Lowe's, or the Mall — cluttered. Jumbled. Noisy he knew, but splashy, junky, cluttered he didn't know. I was never that good at describing all the stuff you find in places like that. His reaction to those places is funny, really, like a kid sometimes turning up his nose at spinach, yuk - why on earth do you want to shop here, I can almost hear him say. Well, I'm used to the junkiness, I don't even think about it, I tell him.

It's just that his physical presence was so much a part of my life. It's something I want back! But not want back too, if it meant Tim wouldn't be well and whole and able to see and do everything he can see and do in heaven these days.

I know one day this hurtful aloneness feeling will be gone. It just comes over me sometimes and I use whatever means I need to get past it.

Bette's Website

All former material on this blogsite and Bette's other blogs has been transferred to her website www.BetteCox.com.

This blog will be dedicated to Bette's thoughts and reactions following the death of her beloved husband, Tim C. Cox, on December 15, 2006.

Thank You is a letter Bette wrote to the community following Tim's death.

Several of the following are special posts about Tim. One is an article Bette wrote about Tim several years ago, titled The Tim Cox Story. The Cool Dozen is an article Tim wrote himself, about an adventure he and several friends had on Black River the year they graduated from high school.

Please visit Bette's website to read her Family Memories newspaper columns, her short stories, humerous online novel, Bible studies, opinion pieces and other writings, www.BetteCox.com.

The above photograph was taken by Bette in their living room the Sunday before Tim died.