Rejection

So here it is. I bit later than promised but it's been hard for me. As you might be able to see, I poured my heart into this essay. I desperately tried to sum up this amazing relationship in 5 minutes, or less. I cried through every paragraph and agonized over almost every word. At the end of it all, for whatever reason, it was rejected. I've been assured multiple times by those who made the decision that it wasn't about my story, or my writing. They must have really wanted me to know, because I never asked. Still, it hurt.

I'm glad that I wrote it all down. I worked through a lot of emotion through the process. 

So here it is. I hope that it can still be appreciated. I hope that hundreds of people can still read my story. I hope that your heart will be touched.

Seventeen Months

By: Megan Dompier

I knew my mother-in-law for exactly 17 months. And yet, I felt like there weren't two people on the planet who had the kind of relationship we did. It was a relationship built fast and strong by the pain that we each encountered in our own lives. When I met Lorrie I was getting ready to move home after living in Utah for 10 years, where I got married, had four kids and then divorced. I was looking for a fresh start with a strong foundation. I was also dating Phillip, her son. Lorrie had been diagnosed with breast cancer in 2003, and after years of treatment the cancer was finally in remission in February of 2010. However, her energy waxed and waned, and the fear that the cancer would return was real.

I had applied to dozens of jobs and submitted rental applications for several apartments. Having been rejected by every one of them, I realized my whole idea of a “fresh start” was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. There was a 9.3% unemployment rate in Spokane and I had a 5 year gap in employment on my resume. It didn't matter that I had spent those years having my fourth baby, raising my other three kids, and dealing with a failing marriage. It didn't seem to matter how willing I was to learn, or that I had a fierce work ethic. Five empty years on a resume was career suicide. I was too big of a risk to rent to, and apparently too under qualified to hire.

Lorrie didn't see the risk in me. She saw me for who I was, a person who desperately needed someone to believe in me, and give me a chance. She welcomed me with open arms, and selflessly gave me what I needed to start over, and more. With nowhere to go, Lorrie invited me and my 2 year old daughter, Olivia, to live in her home. It didn't matter to her that a few weeks later my older 3 kids would be finishing school, and moving in, too. “The more the merrier” she said, as if living in a house with six adults, four kids, two dogs and two cats was completely normal. Her invitation was open, for as long as we needed. I was astonished. I had spent the better part of my life, trying to prove to anyone, and everyone that I was worth something, anything. Lorrie's generosity meant the world to me.

Lorrie and Olivia on Mother's Day 2010

Lorrie started bonding with Olivia immediately. She was ecstatic to have grandchildren. She told me that they had been waiting for years for this opportunity. Olivia ate up all of the attention. Day after day, they would share a breakfast of frozen blueberries and milk and sang “The Good Morning Song” to everyone. Lorrie cuddled with Olivia, through hours of toddler tv. We sat outside and soaked up the sunshine, and watched Olivia play. We would drive around attempting to get the defiant 2 year old to take a nap. On our outings together she always found an excuse to get Olivia a treat, for such a special girl.

I loved every minute I spent with Lorrie, too. Nothing we did ever appeared to be of great importance, but everything took on a deeper meaning with the conversations we shared. She told me all of her favorite family stories. She would explain to me how completely she loved her children. That she could feel every joy and every sorrow they experienced, as her own. We laughed at her antics growing up, and at which traits each of her kids got from her, and which ones they got from Bob, her husband. We shared stories of growing up with parents who divorced and the strength and pain that comes with it. She taught me to be more patient and enjoy more of the little things about raising children. She told me that I showed her that you can love your kids and set boundaries. She confided, that this was something she had wrestled with while raising her own.

In September, Lorrie went in for a routine scan to check the status of her cancer. The news was devastating. The cancer had come back with a vengeance. This time through her spine. The doctors predicted she had roughly 6-9 months left. Lorrie declared she wasn't finished and she'd die when she damn well pleased. She had grandkids to cherish, birthdays and holidays to celebrate, and, since Phillip

proposed, a wedding to plan. She didn't want to slow down, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let

cancer dictate her life!

December 5th, 2010

As hard as the news was to swallow, we followed Lorrie's lead. It was extremely important to Lorrie and Phillip that she be at our wedding. She wanted to relish in our happiness, she wanted a mother and son dance, and she wanted a big party. We moved our wedding from June of 2011 to December of 2010. Lorrie was relieved that there was something else to focus on, aside from cancer. Our wedding was everything a wedding should be, a celebration of love and happiness. At the end of the night our hearts were full.

Their Mother/Son Dance

In the next few months Lorrie's health started to decline quickly. The final scan showed the cancer had made it to her brain. Hospice was called in to give Lorrie and our family support. In the spring she started having seizures, one so intense it caused her to fall, breaking her leg. She persisted in keeping her independence and used crutches to get around. The night before getting her cast off she suffered another seizure, this time, breaking her collar bone. It was apparent that we needed to step in and nurture her, just as she had nurtured so many in her life. When her need for care increased, I couldn't walk away. I continued to sit with her, to be with her, day in and day out. I attended the nurse visits, made charts to track medication. I felt compelled to do for her what she could no longer do for herself. I wanted to repay her for all that she had given me.

Our family, the day we celebrated Lorrie's life, in her favorite Tie-Dye

On August 25^th, 2011 at 12:25 am I checked on Lorrie and found that she had taken her last breath. When I couldn't find her heartbeat I called Phillip and Bob to come to her bedside. I had known her for seventeen months. We celebrated every holiday, and every birthday once. It was just enough time, because we found something to laugh about, cry over, and learn from everyday. Seventeen months had to be long enough, so we made every minute count.