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

Made Perfect…

On March 25, 2016 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized3 Comments

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“But Honey,” I whined, “What does it matter if every single tassel on the stupid rug is pointed in one direction ?” The drama was repeated nearly every time I vacuumed the throw rug in the living room because, apparently, the tassels of the throw rug need to be “combed” into one uniform direction by the beater bar of the vacuum cleaner. To be clear, just in case the sarcasm didn’t work, I don’t like vacuuming and I definitely don’t like combing the tassels, which is what lead to more than one serious debate.

Ever since Libby and I were married I teased her about her perfectionist tendencies; whether she was remaking the bed because I allowed the sheet to hang over the edge one inch more on the right side than it did on the left side, or making sure the tassels mentioned above were “combed” before the vacuuming was finished. Libby lived by the old adage, “If its worth doing, its worth doing right”. While I, on the other hand, was blessed with no such tendencies.

Even though I teased her about being a perfectionist by calling her Miss Perfecto on occasion (okay, a lot, I called her Miss Perfecto a lot) Libby was way too humble to believe that anything she did neared the level of perfection and she certainly didn’t like for me to joke that she was perfect.

One day toward the middle of March while taking care of Libby, I was trying to determine what she needed and I asked, “Does your back hurt?”….”No”…” Are you cold?”…”No”… does your belly hurt?” each time she shook her head “No”. So I said, “Well if you are not hot or cold and nothing hurts then you must be perfect.” Libby shook her head, frowned at me with a disapproving look that I had seen many times in our 35 years of marriage, and said, “If I were perfect then I wouldn’t be sick and in this hospital bed.”

Later that same night I told Libby, “I feel so helpless, I wish there were something more I could do. I am so sorry this is happening to you.” Libby turned her head toward me (again with the frown) and said, “Barry, don’t feel sorry for me, I have the easy part, you’re the one who has the hard job.”

Incredulous, I asked, “What do you mean by that?” Libby’s answer still echos in my ears, even I as write these words exactly two years later, ” I mean,” she said, “My part is easy, all I have do is lay here while you take care of me for a few more days and then I will be in heaven, but you have to stay here and go on living without me.”

On March 25th it was just past midnight when I made the difficult decision to tell Libby something that, at the time, I didn’t really think she was able to hear, much less comprehend, becasue by then she had been asleep for three days solid. I remember saying, “Libby, I love you but you need to know that I will be okay. You were an amazing mom to our boys and although they will miss you, they will be fine. Bethany and our new granddaughter will be okay as well, you have fought hard but you don’t need to keep fighting for us.”

That was it, no long speech, no change in Libby’s expression and absolutely no indication that she heard it; instead there was a calm, spirit-filled peace that filled the room and I just remember thinking we would both rest better that night. I leaned over to tuck in Libby’s covers but as I did the loose board next to her bed squeaked and without ever opening her eyes, Libby strained upward for her kiss.

Caring Bridge entry March 25, 2014: … This morning a few minutes after 5 AM Libby was made PERFECT…

Our Love Song

On March 5, 2016July 31, 2019 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized5 Comments

Following Libby’s final oncologist’s appointment we settled into a routine with Hospice Care coming to our house twice a week and many of Libby’s dear friends volunteering to sit with her while I went to my office in a futile attempt to work.

By the end of February the cancer and the pain medications began to take their toll on the amount of conscious time that Libby had for visitors as I weighed the needs of Libby’s failing health against the well-intentioned desires of those wanting to see her. Weekends were especially busy around our house and Sunday February 23 rd was no exception as our friends Corey and Andrea had driven in from Nashville to see Libby but she was in a deep sleep by the time they had arrived.

Corey and Andrea Garcia were college friends of Nathan and Bethany while at Trevecca Nazarene University. Nathan and Corey’s friendship went back even further to kindergarten in our church when Libby was their teacher. Libby was a self-appointed surrogate mother to both Corey and Andrea during their college years as she encouraged and counseled them both during their courtship, marriage and Andrea’s fledgling music career.

Weeks before their visit, I asked Andrea if she would be interested in writing a song about Libby to tell our story. I had written an outline of sorts which described the “new love” during our dating years and how it changed into something much deeper as time went on. Then when faced with horrible news, how that new love turned into a “blue love” as both love and faith were tested. I went on to say that real love is not always some warm fuzzy feeling portrayed in the movies, it is a choice to love that one makes everyday. Now, it was obvious that I would never be mistaken for a songwriter so I left my ramblings with Andrea.

At 9:30 on that Sunday evening after Andrea and Corey had gone out for coffee with Nathan and Bethany, Libby woke up more responsive and more alert than she has been in weeks and asking, “Where is everybody?” I explained that it was late on a Sunday night and although a lot people had come by to visit, everyone was gone now.

After telling Libby the names of all of her visitors I explained that she had just missed Corey and Andrea so she asked me to call them. Within fifteen minutes Nathan, Bethany, Corey and Andrea arrived as Andrea pulled me aside before going into see Libby and said she had finished the song we had discussed and she asked if she could play it for her. I told her the timing was perfect and that she was very alert. The following video was recorded on that Sunday night using my cell phone then edited later to add photos:

I wrote this on the Caring Bridge entry that night after everyone had left, “I believe we have been given this time to say goodbye to someone that in my completely unbiased opinion, is the best wife, mother, teacher, counselor, prayer warrior, mentor and friend this world has ever seen.”

“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.

Life’s Milestones And Wigs

On August 1, 2015August 3, 2015 By Barry GilleyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

The life that Libby and I shared together had some pretty major milestones during our courtship and marriage including our first date when Helen Hawkins (aka Hamburger Helper) hit a cow on the road in front of us, then there was our wedding on June 9, 1979, the purchase of our first house which cost $14,000 but took $10,000 to repair, the birth of each one of our two boys and then there was Cancer.

Cancer so changed our lives that we would sometimes categorized past events using the abbreviations BC (Before Cancer) or AC (After Cancer). Like it or not, Libby’s cancer diagnosis was a watershed moment in our lives and it was as much a part of us as our wedding and our children. For fifty years (BC) Libby had been known as a beloved daughter, a sweet sister and a role model for others, then as an adult she was known as a gorgeous bride, an excellent teacher and a loyal friend. But then (AC) Libby’s identity changed to cancer patient who constantly amazed others by making the best of a bad situation.

Libby’s particular type of breast cancer needed estrogen to survive and grow, so to slow the cancer’s progress her oncologist immediately prescribed an estrogen suppressant which had it’s own unique set of problems, most notable were the intense hot flashes which happened several times every hour. It didn’t take a keen awareness to determine the moment when one of Libby’s hot flashes started because, if we were alone at the house, her the wig would suddenly fly across the room followed by her jacket which she couldn’t seem to get off fast enough. Throwing her wig across the room became much less common after one particularly high arching toss resulted in an unfortunate encounter with the living room ceiling fan.

Some of the nicer wigs that Libby bought were Raquel Welch brand wigs, one of which had become her favorite until the day that she was cooking supper at my dad’s house. While trying to determine if the cornbread was brown on the bottom Libby opened the lower oven door and leaned over to inspect the cornbread as 450 degrees air wafted up out of the oven and quickly “baked” her synthetic wig melting the individual hairs together as they shrank and retreated away from her face. Libby was unfazed by the heat but her favorite red wig cooled quickly into a cohesive permanent wave on top of her head.

The thought came to me so quickly that I really didn’t have time to apply a filter, and besides I thought a humorous comment by me could relieve some of the awkward tension in the kitchen, but I have to admit that it sounded a lot funnier in head than it did when I said, “Your Raquel Welch wig looks a lot like a Donald Trump hairpiece.”

The synthetic wigs were very durable (well, except for the one she baked) easy to care for and easy to style, but one particular evening I discovered a completely unexpected benefit of having a large collection of wigs.

Libby and I were getting ready to go out and meet another couple for dinner and as Libby stood in front of the full length mirror she asked, “How does this outfit look?” Now, in times past I had fallen into that sticky trap of answering that question incorrectly so I said, “That looks great!” I wasn’t lying to her because I thought she looked good in nearly everything she wore. However, I must have lacked sufficient enthusiasm in my comment because she responded, “You’re right, the colors are all wrong”.

Wait, what?

This is where years of husbandly experience came in handy and although I knew that we would be late, I knew too that it would be unwise to ask Libby to hurry up. I did, however, know exactly what to do in this situation; I went to the living room, located my TV remote, sat down in my recliner and turned on the football game as I prepared for the fashion show that would soon start in our living room as Libby went through several combinations of outfits.

I knew also that I had to be mentally prepared to give a much more enthusiastic reply when Libby modeled the next outfit if we had any hope of making our dinner reservations. I rotated the side arm on my recliner to extend the footrest just as Libby stepped into the living room to model her outfit. I was about to tell her how good she looked, but then I stopped myself when I realized that this must be some kind of test because she hadn’t changed clothes.

That’s when I noticed her hair, because instead of changing pants, top, shoes, pocketbook etc. she changed wigs, throwing off her brunette wig in favor of a silver one. I was genuinely impressed (by the speed of the newly coordinated colors not necessarily the colors themselves) and we were ready for our night out. We were not late, Libby felt good about the way she looked and I was finally beginning to see the benefits of owning a large supply of wigs.

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.