Two weeks ago I lost a very dear friend.  Technically she was my stepmom, my dad’s wife of eighteen and a half years.  But because Patty was only 7 years older than I, our relationship became one of deep friendship with a sister-like bond.  She and I would talk often, sometimes several times a day, when she was processing difficult things she was journeying through.

Patty adored my dad, James Hagelganz; she fiercely loved her three sons, Jack, Cameron and Adam Arnold; she was a devoted daughter to Ben and Bonny Parker; a dependable older sister to Sandi and Kellee.  She was a loyal friend, treasuring relationships from childhood, young adulthood, early motherhood.

When Patty joined our family, our mom had died two years before.   Dad was overjoyed to have found this delightfully independent, highly intelligent woman, who had been a teacher, obtained her contractor’s license, and ended up working in the aerospace industry.  She loved ballroom dancing and soon had my dad taking lessons with her so they could enjoy it together.  Patty loved the ocean, gardening and reading.  Dad loved her enthusiasm for life.  And her laugh.  They loved traveling together.  They loved each other well.

However, it was an adjustment for us kids to have this new family member.  We didn’t live close enough to have regular visits and get to know one another in day to day life.  But the Lord allowed the women of our family to attend a Women’s Retreat sponsored by my church.  This special weekend getting to know each other more intimately was exactly what we all needed. We even invited our mom’s sister to fly in from Oregon to join us.   From that time on the Lord’s love knit our hearts together and we became family.

One of the special connections Patty and I shared was that of chronic illness: she’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease; I had Multiple Sclerosis.  It felt safe to share fears or weird symptoms and ask each other’s opinions on possible treatments.  Yet the richest blessing of what we shared was the time we would spend together praying, seeking God’s guidance or peace or healing.  It was during these times of prayer that Patty asked me to pray for her sons, their wives and, later, her baby granddaughters.  When her grandson arrived, I added him to the list, as she would have asked had she been able to think clearly.  Parkinson’s is a terrible disease.

Patty also dealt with scoliosis.  She’d been diagnosed in her teens, just a couple of years too old to wear a brace that might have prevented the deterioration she experienced in her later years.  The more her spine curved, the more excruciating her pain.  It finally became unbearable.  When she consulted a surgeon regarding scoliosis fusion surgery, she was warned that the Parkinson’s disease might cause complications.  After consulting with all of her doctors, she decided it was a risk she would have to take because she could no longer live with the pain.

So eighteen months ago Patty underwent a successful eight-and-a-half-hour surgery to rebuild and straighten her spine with rods and screws.  Her pain was gone, but the Parkinson’s flared up in ways we had never imagined possible.  Her blood pressure would drop whenever she sat up or tried to stand, causing her to pass out, making physical therapy nearly impossible.  She became delusional, seeing imaginary people or animals, even thinking “bad people” had taken her to dark basements and she couldn’t find her way out.  Nighttime was the worst.  Despite all we kids did to support and help them through these challenging days, the stress on our nearly 90-year-old Dad was intense.  The young vibrant woman he had married and hoped would care for him in his old age was now the one needing care.

After moving her back to their home in San Diego and bringing in 24/7 caregivers, we all hoped and prayed Patty would improve.  But as time went on the prospect that Patty might not recover had to be considered, especially as Dad’s health was declining due to the stress and non-stop care she required.  A month after we moved them into assisted living, she had a small stroke, causing more issues that seemed to make recovery an impossibility.  My weekly visits that had once been to offer prayer, hope and encouragement to both of them, became focused on helping Dad with finances, paying their bills and getting him to doctor’s appointments or running errands.  I missed my friend terribly, especially when Patty didn’t know who I was.  At times I wondered how long all of us would be able to continue with these never-ending challenges.

But God knew.  As hard as these days were, He had a plan that would somehow include using all of it for good.

And so, on Tuesday morning, May 12^th, 2020, at the age of 71, Patty’s battle with Parkinson’s ended.  She immediately entered the presence of our Lord Jesus, where there’s no more death or crying or sadness or pain; where she’s more whole than she ever was here in her earthly body.

And one day I will see my very dear friend again.

“No eye has seen, nor ear has heard, nor mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV

“When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be. When we all see Jesus, we’ll sing and shout the victory.” (Eliza Edmunds Stites Hewitt/Mosie Lister – Public Domain)