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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 3, 2010 16:03:46 GMT -8
January 12, 1969 - June 2, 2010
My daughter passed away last night. She was 41. She had two daughters, Isabelle and Hailey and she had been married to her husband Monty for 20 years. I wrote about Kathy in my book The Art of Changing. Like President Obama, Kathy had a black father and white, single-parent mother. I almost gave her up for adoption because they did that a lot in those days (1968). But I kept her and loved her with all of my heart. Last night my son was attacked by a man with a knife and a pit bull. He barely escaped with his life. It is so eerie to have one child spared and one child taken at the exact same moment. I don't ask why. That was God's decision and I trust him/her. I am going to use this thread to grieve and eulogize my precious daughter. Right now, I am still in shock, but I will be back. Attachments:
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 3, 2010 16:05:43 GMT -8
Day 2 is surreal. Just listening to Ave Maria and My Heart Goes On over and over again. These things stir up old wounds, so I am missing my friend Sandra who committed suicide three months ago. Here is a poem I wrote Kathy. . . Sunday's Child
When you were born
You clung to me.
The bond was there
It's plain to see.
The early months
Were never dull.
No rest, no quiet;
Not even a lull.
But after a time
You quieted down;
Moments of ease
I finally found.
Then came the years
That were pleasant & mild;
After all, sweetheart,
You were Sunday's child.
You had a gift
Right from the start;
The sweetness and charm
Of a child pure in heart.
And now that you're grown
You're still special I see;
Still kind and loving,
And God's gift to me.
1987
(To my daughter Kathy)
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 3, 2010 16:18:41 GMT -8
Apart From the Flock
When you were born,
The heavens smiled.
You grinned at me
And stayed awhile.
You grew and grew,
Twas no surprise;
What lovely hair,
And sparkling eyes.
A sensible child,
You turned out to be,
Strong within ─
Inner eyes to see.
Compassion you felt,
For those not so blessed.
You tended the flock,
But you didn't obsess.
Then came the day,
When you looked within,
And found the time
To flow with the wind.
To find your life,
Apart from the flock;
A life with yourself,
With your own inner clock.
And your life today
Is still grounded in love;
But now you've learned
About love from above ─
About loving God first,
And loving yourself too,
As well as those
God sends to you.
1992
(To my daughter)
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 3, 2010 16:22:35 GMT -8
Reminiscing
I had a really difficult time forgiving myself for neglecting my son Karl and my daughter Kathy. Even as I write this I feel a lot of guilt. However, since recognizing what I did to them I have apologized and made what they call in 12-step programs a “living amends.” This means doing now what you would have done then if you could go back in time. With my daughter Kathy this process took on new meaning when she decided to have children, and little did I know when she got pregnant that I would soon have an opportunity to make a significant amends to her and begin to forgive myself. In 1994, Kathy got pregnant. I was ecstatic. I wanted very much to be a grandmother and have a second chance at parenting. I knew Kathy and her husband Monty would make good parents and that the cycle of dysfunction would be broken by them. Early in June, three months before she was due, Kathy went into labor and did not even know it. She thought she was having a backache. By the time Monty rushed her to the hospital the baby’s little foot had started to come out. The doctor said that if the delivery could be delayed just too weeks the baby would have a chance. We prayed. We begged God. Monty even dreamed the baby would wait. On June 16, 1994, at 11:04 <m>p.m.<m>, Jasmyne Marie Snyder was born. She weighed one and one-half pounds. Monty was too nervous to be in the operating room (Kathy had a cesarian) so I was there when little Jasmyne came out. She was perfect. We watched over Jasmyne for fourteen days while she struggled to hang on. During this time, my heart ached for my daughter. The pain was as sharp as a knife. I had to ask God, “Why are you doing this? Kathy does not deserve this. Punish me. I am the one who failed at parenting. Give Kathy a chance to be a mother.” The waiting made me sick. Jasmyne sucked in the air of her ventilator. Her little swollen hand reached out to me. When she grabbed my hand it was as if she was pulling out a plug and tears came rushing out of me. Jasmyne passed away on June 29, 1994. They took her off the ventilator and we all rushed down to the hospital chapel. Kathy couldn’t bear to be there and asked me if I would stand in for her. I was afraid, but I had to do this for my daughter. The doctor, pastor, nurse, Monty, and I all sat side-by-side. We each held her in turn. A moment after she was placed in my arms she stopped breathing. I was the last one to be with her on this earth. Later, Kathy told me how grateful she was. It was at that moment that I felt I had finally made my amends to her and for the first time I could really begin to forgive myself. At Jasmyne’s funeral I felt moved to read a poem I had written years earlier. A Brighter Tomorrow
Life may take a downward spiral
And overwhelm us for awhile.
Pain may seem a way of life;
Endless moments filled with strife.
Gloom may settle in our soul,
Splitting that which once was whole.
And yet despite this painful rift,
There still exists a timeless gift.
The saving grace when all is gray,
God's promise of a brand new day. For some reason I emphasized the phrase “God’s Promise.” Three months later, Monty announced that Kathy was pregnant again. “We were supposed to wait a year, he said,” but it just happened. If it is a girl we are going to name her Isabelle. “Why Isabelle?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he said, “It just came to me.” I immediately called the library (this was before the Internet) and asked the research librarian what Isabelle meant. She looked it up and said, “It means God’s oath.” “What does that mean?” I asked. “You know,” she said, “God’s promise.” Today, Isabelle is a lovely child, full of promise and full of beans — just like her grandmother. What have I learned? God is amazing and he never forsakes us — something to live for Attachments:
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 4, 2010 14:40:30 GMT -8
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 5, 2010 14:23:24 GMT -8
Day three is a disaster. I tried to get out of bed to go to church with my granddaughters and son-in-law and couldn't do it. I have nausea and a headache. I guess I need to eat as I am dizzy. It has finally hit me that my baby is gone.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 6, 2010 17:08:21 GMT -8
A little better today . . . |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 10, 2010 15:43:51 GMT -8
Friday, June 11, 2010
. We will put Kathy's urn in the ground. She has two grandparents on either side and a great uncle beneath her. Under the grave of her Nana is her daughter Jasmyne. Saturday, June 12, 2010 We will have a memorial service for Kathy. We are expecting at least 300 people as Kathy was very popular. She was the church secretary and was in charge of all the weddings and funerals held at the Church. She was the class mother for both of her daughters. Her boss, the pastor, didn't even know how to change the message on the phone without her to tell him how. Some important people from the SDA council will be there to help the family through this as well as the whole church and Christian Academy. |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 10, 2010 17:23:31 GMT -8
My Eulogy (short version)
I was thrilled to find out I was carrying Kathy. I had always wanted to be a mother. She was due in February, but decided to appear on January 12, 2009. The best I could tell, she was conceived during the “Summer of Love” in the Haight Asbury district of San Francisco. My little hippie baby was eight pounds and 21 inches. All I remember about her labor was my mom telling me “I know I lied about this being a wonderful experience, but if I told the truth you would never have kids.” Kathy was a fussy baby but so beautiful that people literally stopped me in the street to tell me so. As a little girl Kathy clung to me and her grandmother (Nana) but by the time she was in school she was the most popular child in her class. For much of her schooling Kathy went to Golden Gate Academy, but in the eleventh grade she transferred to El Cerrito High School from where she graduated in 1987. I sent Kathy to community college but in the middle of her second year she announced she had “met someone.” But she never stopped going to college. For years and years she took one class at a time working toward her credential to be a probation office. Kathy and Monty had a beautiful wedding. Everyone at the Berkeley Seventh Day Adventist Church pitched in. I made her gown and Nana baked the most beautiful cake I have ever soon. Monty and Kathy lived in San Leandro for awhile and then Dublin. They finally settled in Concord. I give Monty credit for this. Kathy was a spender and he was the one who saved enough to buy a house. Kathy got pregnant on schedule and we were thrilled. As most of you know, however, we lost little Jasmnye Marie Snyder. Soon after (sooner than expected or advised by the doctor) Isabelle came into the world. Kathy had to spend 5 weeks in the hospital to ensure her safe arrival. I still remember Monty walking out of the delivery room holding her in his arms. It took awhile to get Hailey into the family, but eventually she arrived looking just like her dad (except that she had hair). Kathy was a wife and mother. Yes she would have made a good probation officer, but her calling was her family. She did not get her expertise from me. It was truly a gift from God. Everyone who has ever met her can attest to that. There is a hole in many hearts now that we will all have to fill with our love for Monty and the girls. |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 11, 2010 19:01:51 GMT -8
We put Kathy's ashes in the ground today next to her daughter. I kept a beautiful urn with 10% of her ashes to set next to Sandra's ashes on my alter.
Tomorrow is the larger service at the church she attended. We are expecting over 300 people as she was a real people person.
The dam has not yet burst. I have yet to cry. I am sure the pain will just sneak up on me soon.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 13, 2010 14:01:05 GMT -8
The memorial service was yesterday. 350 people showed up. Everyone loved Kathy. When I woke up this morning the depression finally descended. It is going to be a tough road, but God is with me.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 15, 2010 15:14:23 GMT -8
It really hurts today. May pain shows up as depression and an aversion to waking up. I am praying a lot.
This is Spirit to whom I pray. She takes my prayers to God.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 17, 2010 20:57:18 GMT -8
Kathy was a devout Christian. She is with Jesus now.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 17, 2010 21:17:26 GMT -8
Kathy and Jasmyne . . .Attachments:
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 19, 2010 18:34:08 GMT -8
Someone who doesn't like me just said, "It doesn't look to me like you are even grieving." Like I needed to hear that . . . When I was 14 my brother was electrocuted and while people stood around visiting, I cleaned the kitchen. Someone said, "Isn't Susan a brave little soldier." I thought that what they said was a good thing, so I have tried to be stoic at the last 14 funerals I have attended. But that does not mean I am not grieving. I do miss my daughter. I just can't cry yet. I am mute. Also, losing Kathy has brought back the pain of losing my mother and Sandra. I am afraid to just let go. I have a question for God. Why are people so mean? Is it mental illness? Are they displacing their own pain onto me. I don't know I just know they are wearing me down. Oops . . . here come the tears . . . |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 19, 2010 18:46:56 GMT -8
Susie (my inner child) spots new life . . . |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 19, 2010 18:57:47 GMT -8
"The wind blows wherever it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” John 3 Kathy is with SpiritAnd I know not whence it comes, Or wither it goes. But I suppose it goes Where Love Abides |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 19, 2010 19:04:56 GMT -8
Kathy's little brother . . . Karl Rudolph McKnight II . . . brave little warrior watching out for me.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 20, 2010 18:57:58 GMT -8
Finally had a good cry today . . (Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who run With the Wolves.) Tears are a river that take you somewhere. Weeping creates a river around the boat that carries your soul life. Tears lift your boat off the rocks, off the dry ground, carrying it down river to someplace new, someplace better. There are oceans of tears women have never cried, for they have been trained to carry mother’s and father’s secrets to the grave. A woman’s crying has been considered quite dangerous, for it loosens the locks and bolts on the secrets she bears. But in truth, for the sake of a woman’s wild soul, it is better to cry. For women, tears are the beginning of initiation into the Scar Clan, that timeless tribe of women of all colors, all nations, all languages, who down through the ages have lived through a great something, and yet who stood proud. |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 21, 2010 17:31:52 GMT -8
I think I am going to get out of the house tomorrow. Attachments:
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 21, 2010 18:59:31 GMT -8
Sympathy, empathy, compassion . . . all these wonderful gifts from God are seeing me through.
Empathy is considered a sign of emotional intelligence. When Isabelle was three years old, she saw her father crying. She got this serene look on her face, walked over to him, and patted him on his shoulder. "It's going to be ok Daddy." she said. I was floored.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 21, 2010 19:09:54 GMT -8
For those who have asked . . . there is no known cause of death. Monty woke up and Kathy was gone. She died in her sleep. We are waiting for a toxicology report (about 8 weeks). The last time I waited for an autopsy report was when Sandra passed away. It is frustrating. Update. Kathy died from an overdose of the medication she was taking for her arthritis. I don't know the details. It was ruled an accident. Attachments:
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 27, 2010 14:01:23 GMT -8
Somewhere in the Bible it says, O' death, where is thy sting?" What this means to me is that when something terrible happens like a death, God sends little miracles to ease the pain.
Today's miracle involved a person that I sponsored in AA. He called to give me his condolences. He said just a week before her death he ran into Kathy at the Giants baseball game. He recognized her from pictures I kept on my wall. He introduced himself and proceeded to tell my daughter how I had saved his life. Now we all know God saves lives and we are but trusted servants, but according to him when he said this Kathy seemed to light up.
Because of my love addiction I neglected my children. There were so many amends to be made to Kathy that I couldn't do them all. So, I tried to help others in her name. Kathy never knew about this work I had done in her name, and I never told her. It means the world to me that she got to know this before she died.
I had a really good cry after I hung up the phone.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 27, 2010 14:04:23 GMT -8
I have been crying all day. What is the little miracle God has sent me today to ease my pain? A client called and told me how much my books meant to her especially the story of my daughter losing little Jasmynne. I don't always hear how my work affects people, so this was very sweet.
This client asked if she could inquire about the case study in my first book Addiction to Love. "Who is Kathy?" she asked. "Kathy," I said, "was me." I went on to explain that I used my daughter's name because I just love the name. (In the first draft I used the name Jennifer. Then I wrote a first-person version and ended up going with the name Kathy.)
I feel my inner child wrote my first book Addiction to Love and my recovering self wrote The Art of Changing.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 27, 2010 14:05:05 GMT -8
Going deeper . . . Often, people ask you when someone has died, "Were you close?" (Don't ever ask someone this. It is very, very painful when the answer is "no.") Kathy was a busy person. If you distributed a list of volunteers, her name was on the list three times. She was the church secretary and then worked every evening at another job to pay the bills. She was a church deaconess from time to time and a room mother for ten years. On weekends she was the church representative when people used the building for weddings and funerals. At every potluck she set out the food and washed the dishes.Everyone kept saying at the funeral, "What will we do without Kathy?" One person voiced the opinion that we may have worked her to death. I don't know, but certainly her love and generosity were abundant. This morning I felt this overwhelming pain that I had not worked hard enough to bridge the gulf between my daughter and me because she was so busy and because of unhealed wounds from her childhood. I have admitted time and time again that I neglected my children as a love addict. They both told me they forgave me but . . . Crying . . . I called my son-in-law Monty to find out if Kathy even loved me. He said, "yes," but I wanted to know if she ever said it out loud. He mentioned how proud of me she was when I made her wedding dress. Then his voice broke and he said he had to get off the phone. I did not get what I wanted from Monty so I did what I had to do. I talked to my inner child and tried to comfort her. I tried to shake this feeling of inadequacy. This deep-seated shame is going to take a lot of time to heal. I think I need some psychotherapy around it. When someone you love is not very demonstrative it is really hard. I encourage all of you to tell everyone you love that you love them. Say it out loud. Say it often.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 27, 2010 14:09:05 GMT -8
This eulogy to my daughter has turned into a blog. I hope I am not being selfish, but I need this. It is keeping be going. I am like the old Mediterranean woman screeching when a loved one dies. So many women in war torn areas lose their children to bombs. Kathy died peacefully in her sleep. She deserved to die that way. She was an angel. Can't get out of bed today . . . except for the basics like checking my email. My son-in-law emailed me that he needs his space and can't take care of me right now. So it's me, my friends, and the Lord. I know things will get better if I hang in there. I have always been a writer. |
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 27, 2010 14:11:13 GMT -8
Ok . . . here is today's miracle that addresses the issue of "Death where is thy sting?" I feel like all I have left right now is my work as a counselor and writer. God has validated this sentiment and sent the sweetest email from a client to cheer me up. brightertomorrow.net/letterfromsheryl.htmI think I want to be a forest girl living alone among the little creatures . . . like in a Disney movie. Here is me as a forest fairy. Attachments:
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 27, 2010 14:29:35 GMT -8
Lesson from childhood . . . you are not the only one suffering Susie.
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 28, 2010 12:49:56 GMT -8
I feel so alone right now. . .
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Post by Susan Peabody on Jun 28, 2010 13:23:43 GMT -8
From a friend . . .
Dear Susan--
I haven't been around here for a while, and just logged in today. I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for what you are going through right now. I can't imagine the pain, and I am crying right here alongside you. To be dealt this double-blow--I pray you have people around you to support you and love you during this time. I pray that there will be answers about your daughter's death. I pray that the truth about Monty will come out in its entirety and that the girls will be in a safe place. I know that you will have a relationship with them again. May you rest in the arms of God, like Kathy is, just like you have led so many people to Him.
Sincerely,
Michelle (Setfree)
Thank you so much for your prayers and kind words. In AA they say nothing happens by accident. Kathy was worn out and now she is at peace. Her daughter, God bless her, has spoken out rather than suffer in silence. More shall be revealed and reconciled.
Susan
I love fairies, so I have decided to live with them for awhile. I will send pictures of my little friends.
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