Third Letter to Libby

On September 1, 2016August 1, 2019 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized4 Comments

Hey Libby,

Well, I guess you know by now that your mom is no longer down here on earth, she was ready to leave but she is really going to be missed. I am assuming that death looks completely different from your perspective than it does from here; you guys were probably eating and rejoicing at a banquet while were crying at a funeral.

Meanwhile, back here on earth (more specifically Flintstone) one of our cats (Gato) ran away and so now I’m down to just one cat (Ring). You know that I never really wanted a cat anyway and its obvious that Ring doesn’t really like me either, but our two granddaughters are fascinated by “Kitty Kitty” so I keep buying cat food and putting up with the dead critters that she and brings up on the porch.

Speaking of things that smell, how old is that cereal in the bottom of the pantry?

As you can see by the picture (unless photos get blocked up there) we had some fun with your car, actually it was Jerod’s idea to lift it, put on big tires, a winch, a luggage rack and some cool pink graphics so we could raffle it off to help build the playground that we had talked about.

Between raffling your car, donations, chili suppers, bracelet sales and corporate sponsors we raised over $80,000 for the playground. Maybe you’ve seen it just south of the church? Wait, I forgot, you never liked for me to give you directions that involved North, South, East or West…… just look between the gym and ball field where the gravel parking lot used to be, you can’t miss it.

Although many of the children who play on the Libby’s Living Legacy playground never met you and can’t fully comprehend the amount of work involved, they do know two things, it’s Miss Libby’s Playground and it is there because “Miss Libby loved children”.

I told you in my last letter about our 40th reunion of Chattanooga Valley High School (GO Eagles) coming up soon. The organizing committee for our reunion will hold a silent auction and donate the proceeds to your playground but its been a struggle getting everything together especially since you were the one that organized all of the reunions in the past. Do you have a file somewhere with all of that stuff in it?

As I mentioned above Nathan and Bethany have given us two two gorgeous granddaughters, Elizabeth Joy and Lydia Grace. I often daydream about you interacting with them and how many kisses you would have given them by now. The problem is, I’m loosing my ability to imagine your reactions when I see the girls do something new and different. That could be good, I guess, if it means that I am progressing further through the grieving process or it could be bad if it’s just old age.

Elizabeth was two years old in June and her mom and dad have been showing her your picture and telling her about her grandmother “Gibby” (That’s my name for you, again from one of my blog posts, maybe you saw it?). The girls will know what their grandmother Gibby looks like from all of the pictures and when they are old enough to read some of these stories, they will learn about their grandmother’s character, beliefs and love of others.

You would be very proud of our boys, they are doing great and both have been very supportive as I have struggled to regain my equilibrium for the past two and a half years. Jerod took over a lot of responsibility in the company which helped to keep me out of the mental hospital (so far). Nathan has started his residency in Murfreesboro and for the first time since kindergarten at CCS there is no more TUITION!

Did you ever write down your beef stroganoff recipe? Not that I would cook it because except for some fried bologna for a sandwich and scrambled eggs for Elizabeth, I haven’t used the stove. Don’t even ask about the oven, it’s as clean as it was the last time you saw it.

Everyone here misses you terribly, although they don’t come right out and say it to me. I’m sure its because they are concerned that if they bring your name up it will upset me or maybe “set me back”. Who knows, maybe they are right, besides no one wants to see a grown man cry.

Speaking of crying, are there really, “no more tears” in heaven and are the streets really made of gold or is that just a metaphor?

I guess my dad has had time to fill you in on the recent happenings in our little circle of friends and family. But then, again, you should know that dad had Alzheimer’s during his last two years here on earth so you may want to double check his facts since he was known to say some outrageous things just before he left here and most of them only happened in his head.

I’ll say bye for now.

Love you more….

Barry

On January 3, 2016January 3, 2016 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

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An ambulance ride on New Years Day landed Libby in Erlanger Hospital, but her stay lasted much longer than any of us expected. It took some time but the doctors were able to control the nausea, however they could not stop the crushing headaches which caused Libby to spend a lot of time with a damp rag draped over her eyes in an attempt to block out all light and stimuli.

The oscillation between good news and bad news increased in frequency and amplitude beginning that first day of 2014. One of Libby’s doctors told us that the new experimental drug that she had recently started was likely the reason for her headache and nausea, “Therefore,” he said with medical confidence, “As soon as the side effects from the drug wear off, this little girl will be going home… probably tomorrow”; fantastic news that I relayed to friends and family as soon as the doctor left the room.

Before that good news got three “likes” on Facebook things changed. Helen, Jerod and I were all in the hospital room as Libby rested beneath her rag in an attempt to fight off yet another headache. A nurse was in the room taking vitals when Libby began jerking violently, her eyes fluttered and rolled back in her head and then her body went limp. The nurse fumbled nervously for the call button and reported a code blue.

I felt useless as the room quickly filled with medical staff coming from every direction, a doctor began barking orders to the Rapid Response Team while we shrunk into a corner unable to see Libby. I remember thinking to myself, “Surely it’s not going to end like this, I haven’t even said goodbye!”

Following the initial flurry of activity, the team seemed to be doing very little to actually help Libby until one of the nurses asked, “Mrs. Gilley can you hear me? Mrs. Gilley do you know where you are?” Silence. Seconds later she asked again, “Mrs. Gilley can you hear me? Do you know where you are?” Then a very small, sweet voice from within the circle of white coats and blue scrubs said, ” I know that I’m in my hospital room…but I don’t think I have met any of you.” After some nervous laughter from the medical team Libby, a little stronger now, continued, “Why are all of you in my room? Did I do something wrong?”

Over the next few days the seizures increased until Libby was having as many as five a day and the Rapid Response Team responded so many times that they were soon on a first name basis with us all. Then as the seizures became almost routine we stopped calling the team or even the nurse and I eventually learned to handled the seizures myself.

At the time I could not have imagined anything worse than watching Libby have a seizure and pass out but then toward the end of the week Libby seized while her mom and sister were visiting and although I had done my best to prepare them both, it was difficult to look in her mother’s eyes while trying to coax her daughter back to consciousness.

Later that night Libby’s sister, her mom and I made the decision to call in all of the family in on the next day to see Libby, for what we all believed would be the last time.

“OK, Now I Remember—— What I Forgot!

On August 29, 2015August 29, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized1 Comment

As Libby’s hair began to grow back following the chemotherapy, her once dark hair came in solid white and began to curl into hundreds of fine little ringlets perfectly sized to wrap around a pinky finger. Soon after the goose down hair started growing those same damaged hair follicles began producing thicker and darker hair, now capped with those fine, curly, white tips. Libby was not accustomed to change in any form, especially when it came to her hair, so she was slow to embrace the new look and unwilling to be seen in public without one of her wigs.

Nathan, Jerod and I were commenting on the unique and attractive look of Libby’s hair one Saturday night during one of our planned family nights. Embarrassed by the compliments and the attention she was getting, Libby got up from the couch to go start dinner but after standing, she awkwardly stepped sideways, and nearly passed out as three sets of hands gently guided her back to her seat. A combination of residual chemo drugs and radiation treatments often affected Libby’s balance and rising quickly from a seated position increased those odds.

Even after a diagnosis of cancer, which made us all reevaluate our priorities, it is embarrassing how quickly each one of us became overly busy with life. In fact we all became so preoccupied with our own lives that we had to schedule family nights at our house. This particular night was planned to be a simple meal around the dinner table, but after the light-headed spell subsided, we convinced Libby that riding in the truck to and from St. Elmo and sharing a pizza would probably net us more family time than cooking at home.

Noticing the time and worried that the restaurant would soon close, we hurriedly gathered up to leave. Libby never liked to be rushed when going anywhere, so it she became anxious as I hustled her toward the truck glancing back over her shoulder. “What are looking for? I asked, “I don’t really know, ” Libby answered, “it just feels like I’m leaving something”, then after making one last unsuccessful sweep of the room, we left for the restaurant.

Mr. T’s Pizza is our favorite pizza place located just a few miles from our house in a condensed little area of St. Elmo, TN with several intersecting roads, pedestrians, tourists and restaurants all within walking distance of one another. Libby flipped down the sun visor on her side of the truck as we approached the restaurant so she could check her makeup in the small mirror, a move that always obscured my view out the passenger side of the truck. Then, just seconds into her primping session, we all heard the scream.

I instantly hit the brakes, anticipating air bag deployment and bracing for impact; I was confident we were about to crash, then, after several seconds, during which time no one died, I asked, much louder than was necessary, “WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?” Libby calmly turned toward me with an awkward, sheepish grin as she flipped her wrist to close the sun visor/mirror combination. Cocking her head to one side and shrugging her shoulders she said in a soft voice, “Now I remember what forgot!”

Still in shock over the scream, angry and confused, I whined, “What did you forget Libby?” She turned her shoulders a full 90 degrees to look straight at me and then Libby struck a pose while pointing to her head in a gesture which was supposed to make it obvious why she was upset. Libby’s eyebrows (okay, what used to be her eyebrows) were raised and her head cocked to one side as if I should be able to guess what was going on without any hints. Dumbfounded, we all three stared at Libby and at one another without venturing a guess as to why she was so upset. Eventually giving in with disgust Libby said, “My hair guys! My hair, I can’t believe none of you noticed! I left my hair at home, I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”

I probably should not have laughed as hard as I did but we had seen her so much without the wig that it never crossed our minds that she had left it. It was so traumatic to Libby that later she equated the experience to the nightmares common in young school-age children who dream of going to school but forget to put on clothes.

The boys and I pulled out all of the stops to convince Libby to go into the restaurant including but not limited to: “Mom you look great. There are only a few cars in the parking lot. No one will know us there,” and finally, “No one else has a hair do like yours”. Hunger pains and a compromise finally convinced her that we had to eat somewhere. The compromise was that we would go to Pizza Hut instead of Mr. T’s because in Libby’s words, “I don’t know anyone who goes to Pizza Hut anymore, but if we go to Mr. T’s we are sure to see someone we know.”

That day was a turning point in Libby’s post cancer treatment life and a huge boost to her self-confidence because the next morning Libby went to church for the first time ever without a wig and she made short hair look awesome.

Prepping for the Future

On May 31, 2015May 31, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

Like most 19 year old boys I was immature, self-centered and rarely thought past the upcoming weekend. It wasn’t until Libby and I started dating that I slowly began considering the feelings of others (okay, just Libby’s feelings, but progress nonetheless). Even after our marriage, I really didn’t think much about the future, that is until the day we brought our son Jerod home from the hospital and I finally had the thought, “Wow, I now have a person to take care of for a long long time” I realized that I and my income would be needed for another 22 years or so, maybe even longer if we were going to have another child.

Life expectancy charts suggest, and a walk through a nursing home will confirm, that women usually outlive their husbands by a significant margin. Those actuarial numbers concerned Libby and I both and we wanted to make sure that she and the boys could make it if something ever happened to me. Once again, with maturity being forced upon me, we began making preparations for my probable early departure.

Libby and I often discussed investments, insurance and possible credit needs, even going as far as putting everything in her name including all utilities and loan payments so she would have a good credit rating. Libby maintained her teaching certificate and we eventually paid off our debts so that she could stay in the house at least until the boys left for college. We succeeded in our planning so well that I often joked to friends that I was worth a whole more dead than alive, a statement that was always good for a laugh from everyone except Libby.

During those discussions I would talk with Libby about managing the finances, house maintenance and property upkeep. We even had conversations about whether she should remarry or stay single if I died, but Libby always said she would stay single if anything ever happened to me. I always insisted that it just made practical sense for her to re-marry for variety of social and economic reasons, “Besides” I said, “After the boys are gone you will be lonely.” We eventually agreed that time and circumstances will often change the best laid plans, so the marry / not marry question would have to be a decision that she would have to make later, at which time I would be unable to cast my vote in the matter.

Libby then turned the tables and asked me the question that every married man dreads; saying, ” I know that you think I should re-marry, but if I die first would you re-marry?” I’m not sure how it happens in other households but, I knew if I answered the “would you re-marry” question with a yes, it would be followed immediately by question #2 “Who would you marry?” and if I were able to successfully dodge that question she would hit me with, question #3 “If none of my friends were married, which of them would want to marry and why?” Now, every guy who has been married longer than 3 days knows this is a lose/lose situation. If you answer question #1 with, “No way, I would never remarry, besides I already have the best” then you stand a better than average chance of avoiding questions 2 and 3 and the argument that would inevitably follow.

We kept working our debt reduction and we did such a good of establishing Libby’s credit that a few years ago I was attempting to buy a vehicle for our company and I decided to take advantage of some low interest loan money available through the local automobile dealership. Even though the company was making the purchase, the dealer ran a personal credit check on me and the young credit manager came back into the room with a distraught look on his face as he said to me, “Mr. Gilley I’m not sure how to tell you this but, like, your credit report is not very good.” I told the baby-faced manager that it was easy to explain since we bought everything in my wife’s name. “Oh yes your wife”, he said, ” I’m glad you mentioned her because I, like, ran her credit report as well and she has really, really good credit!” I told the credit manager, “That doesn’t surprise me because, as I said, we have been trying to keep her credit rating high “. Still confident that the credit score he had in his hand told him everything that he needed know about me, he said, “So, like, if you can take these papers home and have your wife, you know, like just, co-sign for you then we can complete the sale.”

I must admit that the whole process was a blow to my ego and it made me feel like a school boy being instructed by the teacher to take a note home and have it signed by my mom after getting caught talking during class. I thought about walking out, or talking to the owner in an effort to regain my dignity but in the end I decided to “man up” and do the right thing. I swallowed my pride, took the papers home and asked Libby in best little boy voice, “Miss Libby will you sign my note so I can get me a bright shiny new truck to play with, please, please, please?”

Our Family Grows

On April 12, 2015April 17, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

After several years as an early childhood educator Libby was well on her way to becoming a well respected and even admired teacher in every school in which she taught, my career with Olan Mills, however, was another story. Libby and I had talked about starting a family and I had quickly realized that a photographer’s salary was not going to provide sufficient support for a family, especially if she decided not to go back to work. After some serious discussions with Libby and lots of prayer, I quit my photography job and enrolled full time in the engineering program at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga six long years after graduating from high school.

To help with finances while I was in college I had as many as five different jobs at one time including free lance photography, a bottled water delivery business, construction and solar panel sales. Four years and a lot of sleepless nights later I would graduate from UTC attending commencement exercises in the spring of 1986, but not before Libby announced a commencement of her own.

During my junior year in college Libby became pregnant with our first son Jerod and he was born in November of my senior year. On Monday after Jerod was born I skipped class with plans to hand out bubble gum cigars to my professors until I found out how much a box of bubble gum cigars cost, that’s when I decided that I would hand out the “real” cheap cigars wrapped in blue cellophane proclaiming “Its a Boy!”. After all, the guys had Phds, so surely they knew the hazards of smoking. In hind sight I should have destroyed the empty cigar box because Libby found it and was not happy with my choice.

I had always marveled at Libby’s ability to fall in love with the students that she taught and become absorbed in their lives far beyond the classroom. I had never before seen such a capacity to love so completely and so quickly, but then we had our own and she fell in love more deeply than ever before.

Our family was not the only thing changing; during my second year of college I began working for a small construction company designing and building earth sheltered houses, installing storm windows and other energy conservation materials in houses. I enjoyed the work and as the small company began to grow we began designing and building more commercial projects and soon Libby and I took out a second mortgage to buy stock in Construction Consultants Inc.

When Jerod was nearly two years old, Libby gave birth to our second son Nathan and seemed as if everything was going perfect for us with two healthy boys, a growing business, a great church, great friends and a close family. Life was good and we often commented to each other and to our friends that were indeed blessed. Then we received a call from the hospital.

The phone rang late one evening as Libby listened to the caller I watched the life drain from her face. Libby quietly hung up the wall phone and starred into Nathan’s eyes. When I asked her who was on the phone she told me that one of the nurses who had been in the delivery room when Nathan was born had called to say that we needed to bring him back in for additional tests. The nurse went on to tell Libby, in a very matter of fact tone, that one of Nathan’s screenings had shown some abnormalities which indicated mental retardation and we needed to make plans to bring him in for additional testing to see the extent of the retardation. Libby and I had just gone from most amazing high to the deepest low in minutes and for the remainder of the evening Libby could not be consoled as she sat in the living room floor cradling Nathan in her arms and sobbing.

Jerod must have sensed the uneasiness in the house that evening because it was difficult to get him to sleep as I spent most of the night in the guest bed next to Jerod’s room because he was so restless. The next morning I found Libby still in the living room holding Nathan praying and sobbing. I never asked if she got up early or stayed up all night because I was in a daze as well. After breakfast I dressed the boys and got them ready to go the hospital while Libby called the doctor’s office to find out where the test would be performed, but when the nurse looked up Nathan’s chart she said there had been a mistake and someone was supposed to call us back to let us know that there had been a mix up in the lab and Nathan’s test was fine.

Libby was not happy with way that the hospital staff handled the situation and that may have been the most angry I have ever seen Libby in our 35 years of marriage (at someone other than me). Libby was a bundle of emotions as she was simultaneously relieved, irritated, ecstatic and frustrated.

If nothing else the episode demonstrated to us both how precarious the good times can be and how quickly things can change, a lesson that we would continue to be taught many more times in our life.