Hi, my name is Ross.
I'll never forget the day I had to watch my wife Phillippa die, unable to do anything about it.
We began however to lose her two years before when it became noticeable her speech was starting to slur. It became so obvious one night, when with friends, that I made an appointment to see our doctor. Within 24 hours she was in Auckland having a brain scan. The diagnosis at the time was Multiple Sclerosis. Almost immediately M.S. material came in the mail for us to study. A cleaning lady started coming twice a week, and district nurse help was offered. It became apparent though over a period of time that something wasn't right. She lost her speech completely and fluid started to build up in her lungs. Her specialist began to suggest she might not beat this thing. We kept the children up to date all the way, but now it was time to tell them that Mum may die. As we sat around the dinner table, there was stunned silence mixed with tears. A few minutes went by and one asked a question, which led to another, and another. It was good to talk about it because it was important they understood God wasn't to blame for this. Stuff happens that we will never fully understand until we are with Him. He has a higher plan and we must be alert as to what that might be. They needed to see that people blame God for the minutest of things, and live a life of bitterness as a result.
February 1999. A M.S. flier arrived with an article on Motor Neurone Disease. It's similar to M.S. only terminal in most cases after two to two and half years. The article described Phillippa exactly. We went back to the specialist for his opinion and after some tests he confirmed she had M.N.D. She took it well but I was aware she had already been sick for over two years. She had great faith that God would heal her, so we continued to pray even though her condition was worsening.
Sunday May 16th 1999. After church Pip wanted to do some shopping for Katiejane, our youngest (then 4), who needed new clothes. This encouraged me because Pip didn't venture out much. We laughed our way around the shop because she kept bumping into clothes racks with her wheelchair. It was fun.
Monday May 17th 1999. I got up early to make lunches and get the breakfast ready. By 7.30am the children were ready for school. Pip wasn't up, which was unusual; she always got up to see them off. She seemed confused when I took them in to say goodbye - she thought it was Sunday. I went to work as usual and arrived home again around 5.20 pm. She looked terrible; quite yellow, even the white of her eyes were yellow. I wanted to get the doctor straight away but she said "no". I prepared dinner, and while the children were eating I checked on her to find she looked worse. I rang our doctor, who immediately called for an ambulance. Just after he got off the phone fluid clogged her lungs completely. She walked into the ensuite to try to expel fluid, but this time it would not clear. Our doctor, who had come when I rang, tried to help her, but without success. Within a minute she was gone. She was just 39 years old. The children were in the next room and although the door was open, they hadn't seen what had happened. Our doctor went to get them but was met at the door by my oldest girl, Jemimah (then 13). Her reaction at hearing the news alerted the others- Jesse (then 11), Christian (then 8) and Katiejane. Caleb my oldest (then 15) was at a friends place. We group-hugged and just cried and talked about how she was now with Jesus and her suffering was over.
Within 30 minutes family and friends started arriving. It was pleasing to see my children mixing with these people; Jemimah was even serving coffees. Caleb stayed at his friend's place, the New Life Church Pastor's home, and they were so good to him. He didn't want to see Phillippa's body. At the time I was a little disappointed. But looking backon it I'm glad I didn't force him to. He needed to remember her as she was. I guess we all mourn differently, according to our level of healing. The next day Jemimah and I met with our own Pastor to start funeral arrangements. He took all the responsibility from us, which was great. His wife arranged meals for us, an arrangement that went on for months. So many wonderful people did so many things.
One of the hardest things for me has been the closures. The evening after the funeral was one. Two days later Pip's family, most of who lived down south, went home. Another was when the headstone was put in place. The hardest was when my solicitor wrote to say everything was completed.
To this day I have many of Pip's precious things in my room. Her jewellery is there for the girls to try on and use. We can look over all she wrote down after losing her speech; her prayers, insights, and words God gave her during her silent days. Children need a mother, and I'm grateful for the availability of a special few they can feel mothered by, especially my girls.
I have a mission. I want my children to grow up to be people who honour God and are obedient to him; to respect others and be trustworthy; and I want them to outgrow me in their Christian walk.
I miss my wife. I miss her touch. But we are moving on now - we must. There is lots of life ahead to enjoy.
I'll never forget the day I had to watch my wife Phillippa die, unable to do anything about it.
We began however to lose her two years before when it became noticeable her speech was starting to slur. It became so obvious one night, when with friends, that I made an appointment to see our doctor. Within 24 hours she was in Auckland having a brain scan. The diagnosis at the time was Multiple Sclerosis. Almost immediately M.S. material came in the mail for us to study. A cleaning lady started coming twice a week, and district nurse help was offered. It became apparent though over a period of time that something wasn't right. She lost her speech completely and fluid started to build up in her lungs. Her specialist began to suggest she might not beat this thing. We kept the children up to date all the way, but now it was time to tell them that Mum may die. As we sat around the dinner table, there was stunned silence mixed with tears. A few minutes went by and one asked a question, which led to another, and another. It was good to talk about it because it was important they understood God wasn't to blame for this. Stuff happens that we will never fully understand until we are with Him. He has a higher plan and we must be alert as to what that might be. They needed to see that people blame God for the minutest of things, and live a life of bitterness as a result.
Sunday May 16th 1999. After church Pip wanted to do some shopping for Katiejane, our youngest (then 4), who needed new clothes. This encouraged me because Pip didn't venture out much. We laughed our way around the shop because she kept bumping into clothes racks with her wheelchair. It was fun.
Monday May 17th 1999. I got up early to make lunches and get the breakfast ready. By 7.30am the children were ready for school. Pip wasn't up, which was unusual; she always got up to see them off. She seemed confused when I took them in to say goodbye - she thought it was Sunday. I went to work as usual and arrived home again around 5.20 pm. She looked terrible; quite yellow, even the white of her eyes were yellow. I wanted to get the doctor straight away but she said "no". I prepared dinner, and while the children were eating I checked on her to find she looked worse. I rang our doctor, who immediately called for an ambulance. Just after he got off the phone fluid clogged her lungs completely. She walked into the ensuite to try to expel fluid, but this time it would not clear. Our doctor, who had come when I rang, tried to help her, but without success. Within a minute she was gone. She was just 39 years old. The children were in the next room and although the door was open, they hadn't seen what had happened. Our doctor went to get them but was met at the door by my oldest girl, Jemimah (then 13). Her reaction at hearing the news alerted the others- Jesse (then 11), Christian (then 8) and Katiejane. Caleb my oldest (then 15) was at a friends place. We group-hugged and just cried and talked about how she was now with Jesus and her suffering was over.
Within 30 minutes family and friends started arriving. It was pleasing to see my children mixing with these people; Jemimah was even serving coffees. Caleb stayed at his friend's place, the New Life Church Pastor's home, and they were so good to him. He didn't want to see Phillippa's body. At the time I was a little disappointed. But looking backon it I'm glad I didn't force him to. He needed to remember her as she was. I guess we all mourn differently, according to our level of healing. The next day Jemimah and I met with our own Pastor to start funeral arrangements. He took all the responsibility from us, which was great. His wife arranged meals for us, an arrangement that went on for months. So many wonderful people did so many things.
To this day I have many of Pip's precious things in my room. Her jewellery is there for the girls to try on and use. We can look over all she wrote down after losing her speech; her prayers, insights, and words God gave her during her silent days. Children need a mother, and I'm grateful for the availability of a special few they can feel mothered by, especially my girls.
I have a mission. I want my children to grow up to be people who honour God and are obedient to him; to respect others and be trustworthy; and I want them to outgrow me in their Christian walk.
I miss my wife. I miss her touch. But we are moving on now - we must. There is lots of life ahead to enjoy.
