The Death of My Beloved

 I began this blog in 2009, before my son’s suicide death. Then Sabine’s terminal cancer diagnosis. This blog is filled with both pain and hope.

I did this as I am doing now — because I cannot handle all the inquires from my children, other family, friends and church family.

Bear with me...

The last few years were a roller-coaster of a full life with Sabine (in spite of chemotherapy and 5 days of home hemodialysis each week — we LIVED and we lived fully, passionately, and fiercely.

Being her “nurse/caregiver” during almost daily 4-hour dialysis sessions suddenly presented me with the time to write. I wrote a book that was inside me about improving our nation’s police, along with a number of short poetry books, my 

police blog (http://improvingpolice.blog), and Walk in the Woods YouTube videos during the pandemic. Not to mention our YouTube Covid “Sock Hops” to dance away the virus blues! Sabine was my muse!

Now I’m back and using this blog to communicate with a large family and many friends who are concerned and care about me.

Two days ago, the most feared experience in my life happened. My wife and soul-mate of 40 years died. As I struggle not to die with her, I find I must write...

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Some of you have wanted to come and be with me. I appreciate the love and concern you have shown for me at this crisis point in my life. 

But here’s the problem, we are still in a pandemic and I am still in the high vulnerability group. We also do not know what is the outcome of Christmas vacation on the new spread of this virus. Thankfully, it appears that we will eventually get control of the Covid-19 virus. (By the way, my timetable, expectations, and re-framing put our recovery, and open get-together time, for next Christmas!)

If you choose to come and see me, we must take a high level of virus precaution. If you do, we must wear masks, keep social distance, sanitize, and avoid groups. Or, if we wish closer contact (hugs, etc) we must organize what is called a “pod;” that is a very small group of people who pledge to practice safety at all times outside the group.

What is a “pod?” “Pods are small, self-contained networks of people who limit their non-distanced social interaction to one another—in other words, they’re the small group of people with whom you share air without using breath-control precautions such as masks.” For more about podding see: 

https://www.verywellhealth.com/how-to-form-a-pandemic-pod-5090149

I would, of course, love to see you. Sabine.mom, was always a deep introvert. She didn’t get energized from being with others. But she could effectively play the role of extrovert quite well. That was just her. Thankfully, I energized her! She often told me during these cancer years that she did not need to have the family around her — just me. 

Sure, we had great family re-unions, but really I needed them more than she did. She focused intensely on loving me, almost unconditionally, and always passionately. And I honored that love, that commitment, that com-passion, through a crushing terminal cancer diagnosis, periodic medical crises, and into her final days in which she expected me to be true to what she wanted me to promise to her — that she would be able to stay out of the hospital (her anxiety spiked EVERY time we went into the hospital for chemotherapy). Since the pandemic, she courageously went into that hospital without me being with her for the first time in over a decade. 

I now see that she went through this for me — the most intense sacrificial love. Because she often told me that if anything happened to me, she would simply stop her cancer treatment because it so negatively impacted the quality of her life. But for me, she pressed on,

So those vows l made to her at marriage 40 years ago, and made to her after her diagnosis in 2008, were tested this week. 

“David, I am tired, worn out. I love you and don’t want to leave you, but i have constant pain in my back, medication isn’t helping. I think the cancer is back again in my spinal cord. I am tired and aching, I do not want to go to the hospital alone were I will be caught up, by myself without you, in the system; without you by my side, holding my hand.”

And, so, the course of events this week. The recurrence of a blood infection we thought we had under control, constant pain in her neck and back, overwhelming tiredness that eventually caused her to forego her daily “walk in the woods” and resulted in her sleeping 16-18 hours a day. We both knew it was time. The quality of her life was being challenged by the quantity of very miserable days and nights. She knew she was dying.

And, thus, she inadvertently became a victim of the current pandemic.

How often I laid in bed at night with her. Was she still breathing? I had to reach across the bed to see if she was still breathing… how difficult it was to decline medical advice to transport her to the nearest emergency room… the agony of agreeing to honor her last wishes and inform her medical team that she wished to cease dialysis and chemotherapy…

At first, they advised me to call for an ambulance and transport her to the closest ER. Yet after I declined we talked not about emergency measures but about how to make Sabine more comfortable. And how painful it was to be at her side, holding her hand, loving her as she struggled to breathe… thenher heart stopped.

We taught a “final decisions” course a number of years in which we challenged attending married couples with this: “One of you lovers will close the eyes of the other. Are you prepared for this?” 

Now it was me. I reached over and closed her lifeless, open eyes. “Look at how he loved her!” — a line from one of my many poems to her.

“Look, they will say

Look how he loved her…”

No one. No one can say I did not love her fiercely!

And so she wanted me to go on. That I must heal a shattered heart. It doesn’t seem fair that I should have to live the rest of my life without her. But whoever told us life was going to be fair or painless? What life can be is beautiful in space of tragedy.

So, Sabine’s/mom’s/grandma’s death was tragic, yet, to me, it became beautiful as I closed those beautiful eyes, sat with her and seeped. Then I got a candle and placed in on the table next to her bed. I read the beautiful prayers, “Ministration at the Time of Death” from the Book of Common Prayer:

“Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world; In the Name of God the Father Almighty who created you; In the Name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you; In the Name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you…”

I anointed her with holy oil, washed her body, dressed her, and stayed with her.

It was around 3 pm on Christmas Eve. At 4:30 our church had a zoomed worship service, My dear friend, Jeff, filled in for me online. And so, with Sabine at my side, I prayed with my church community who only just learned Sabine had chosen at home hospice care.

Then the attending hospice nurse arrived. The day before she had just enrolled us in the hospice program. Now, a day later, she officially pronounced Sabine’s death. I didn’t not want to leave her. So, I asked, “How long can she remain with me? Can we have those funeral home pick her up in the morning? I want to be with her as long as I can.

She forwarded my request and it was approved.

I have to share with you that I experienced the most beautiful, most painful, most  loving time of vigil. I slept on and off, sang to her, “You Are My Sunshine,” and eventually it was morning. We had our last coffee together as we had done for year. Now it was Christmas music announcing a new and holy birth. I was announcing a new and holy death.

Around 8:00 am the funeral staff arrived. My dog, Mocha was ready for our morning walk in the woods. As Mocha and I headed out the door, I asked them to blow the candle out when they left.

I wailed and shouted as I walked up the hill on the trail Sabine and I had run, snowshoed and then walked in our later years. I fell on me knees. The grief literally knocked me down. Mocha ran back to me wondering what was happening. I got up. Tearfully, I finished the walk. 

When Mocha and I returned home, our bed was empty.

— Lord, you pulled me through the suicide death of my son a decade ago. Again, please, I beg you, pull me through this loss in my life. I know you can do it — no, God, I expect you to do this because you promised me you would. Amen.

See How He Loved Her!

  OBITUARY

Sabine Hildregaard Luisa Lobitz

April 5, 1953 — December 24, 2020

By Sabine

If you are reading this. I have walked off this earth and continued my journey elsewhere. From where I am, let me assure you that, to me, my life was amazing — fun, full of growth, and a fulfilling adventure.  I would not change any of it.

My family immigrated from Germany to Northfield, Minnesota, in 1955. I grew up in Northfield with my father, Heinz+, my mother, Charlotte+, brother Rainer (Rennae), and sister, Barbara (Ken). I loved you all more than you’ll ever know. Thank you for your life-long friendship (Shirley Peroutka). I have always loved and respected you.

In 1975, I graduated with a B.A. degree in History and Theater from Gustavo Adolphus College in St. Peter, Minnesota (yup, a real drama queen!).  At that time, I loved, married and grew up with Tom Turnquist. We changed and eventually divorced.

In 1980, I met the man who would be that love of my life, David C. Couper, with whom I would raise three amazing children: Sumi (Scott Shimek and daughter, Taylor), Yumi (Matt Lemaster and daughter, Malani) and Ezekiel (formerly Joshua, Sarah (expecting #3 this spring), son Alex and daughter Ava). I was also privileged to have six other children of David’s in my life; all of whom I came to love very much\, Peter (Tammy), Catherine, Sarah (Joseph), Michael, Matthew+, and Jennifer (Karl). I was also blessed to know their spouses and children. The entire clan was wonderful. Thanks, you guys are the best!

My work with the Madison Police Department and the State Capitol Police brought both fulfillment and great meaning to my life. I have great respect for everyone I worked with and I am grateful to you for making it pure joy to go to work every day.

Although I travelled all over the world, no place held my heart like our New Journey Farm in Blue Mounds, Wisconsin. The love and support which I felt from my spiritual communities (St John’s in Portage and St. Peter’s in North Lake) cannot be put into words. You know how much I loved you and I will be waiting for your loop hugs!

I wish I had spent more time getting to know the other cousins: Teak, Jim, Margaret, Brian, Chad and Cindy. I hope that by my example you are richer for knowing me as I was for knowing you.

I hope you who read this and know the man who is the love of my life, the breath of my spirit, and the heart, soul of my very being, David, will care for him.Give him you love, your ear, your time, your hugs, and your uplifting support. I would have stayed here forever (if I could) just to be with him.

Finally, thanks to the medical people who kept me alive during the past 12 years. They gave me years of quality I never thought I would see. Dr. John Sheehan (UW Oncology), Drs. Micah Chan and Gardizi, UW Nephrology), the Wisconsin Dialysis staff (especially Dawn) and my multiple myeloma support group (who could always make me laugh!). I will see you on the other side — someone has to get the party started. You know what a “control freak” I am!).

Actually, a celebration of my life was already held on July 4, 2012 at New Journey Farm (The 60/75 celebration of the joint birthday David and I share). It was there that I was able to hug all of you for one last time.

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David tells me that a future and joyful celebration will held as soon as the pandemic gets under control and you all get your vaccinations! In the meantime, mask, sanitize, be socially distant and stay away from those large groups!

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And this this blog ends. It is a long 12 year narration of a tremendous love story. In one of my poems about her I wrote the line. “See how he (me) loved her!”

I hope I was a good teacher. In spite of her blood cancer, kidney failure, and few falls, we had full and exciting life — including the last 5 years boating on the Mississippi on our cruiser Kokomo which was berthed in nearby Dubuque.

She died 14 hours ago after deciding to terminate her dialysis and chemotherapy. After all these years since her diagnosis, her body was giving out; quality of life became more important than quantity. I promised her that I would make sure she was able to die at home here at our farm in Blue Mounds.

When we bought this place 49 years ago we called it Mew Journey Farm. And this it was and is!

Sabine died after only two days in hospice.

I love her fiercely!

LIVING WITH CANCER

I really don't want to get used to cancer in our relationship, but as we enter our 12th year since diagnosis I worry I am becoming too relaxed. Multiple Myeloma is a fatal, incurable disease that primarily strikes in your later years. However, thanks to God and medical research, the 18-month "expiration date" has been far exceeded! For this I am humbly and deeply thankful.

We continue to get support from our cancer group, those who have been in the "foxhole" with us and other close friends. Relationships matter -- they are vessels of both support and healing.

We are now on a drug "cocktail" of daratumabab, pomalidomide, and dexamethasone. The first drug administered intravenously once a month and pomalidomide orally for 21 days dexamethasome each day. The worst secondary effect is neuropathy in her feet.

We have a more complicated situation because in our case the disease wiped out Sabine's kidneys. We were lucky to be able to do home hemodialysis at our own time five days a week. Supplies are sent to our home and we meet with a patient group for a joint medical appointment with our doc and other home hemo couples.

Between all this, Sabine keeps exercising each day (walking the hills in our woods) and has been able to maintain a positive outlook. Our church family has helped out greatly here as well.

So what have we learned so far? Close friends + support groups + home hemodialysis + daily exercise + faith community + getting out and doing things + showing lovingkindness to one another = better management of our cancer.

We continue to press on. Life does not have to be perfect to be wonderful!

p.s. If you look back at this blog you will see that the frequency of my posts here is based on the intensity of my feelings of grief, fear, and potential loss.

Stages in a Man's Life

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Now in my 80th year, I have decided to slow things down in my life. I have done this to help my soul to continue to grow and not wither. We live in hectic, unsettling times and I think of the Hindu tradition of the four stages of a man's life. These four stages are discussed in ancient and medieval era Indian texts: Student (Brahmacharya), Householder (Grihastha), Retired (Vanaprasthaand), and Renunciate (Sannyasa).

I have not fully entered retirement but are close. I think about my Christian traditions of monastic and other forms of renouncing this temporal world. While I, at the same time, know the importance of social action and the pursuit of justice.

Would I be able to do Sannyasa? To be a homeless wanderer dependent upon others to fill my begging bowl? Scary!

But last week I did take some measures of renunciation:  I have signed off my Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn accounts and disengaged from being the police reformer who lectures, writes books and maintains an active blog called "Improving Police."

 This has caused me to experience a distinct feeling of a great weight being taken off my shoulders.

At the same time, I have been thinking about how quickly the last 10 years of my life have gone by and Sabine's illness. It was 10 years ago that she was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma and kidney failure.  In response, we elected to do home hemodialysis. It turned out to be a blessing for both of us as it has given us flexibility and, I believe, extended her "expiration date."

To be able to focus on things more spiritual is for me to wean away from the daily news cycle.  Since January, I stopped watching Morning Joe on MSNBC because it caused me to get riled up for the remainder of the day. The same for network and internet news. I am now attempting to go "cold turkey” from the daily news. I have to admit that watching the unacceptable public behavior of our President is one of the primary reasons.

With the time I have left in this world I choose no longer to be the police reformer. I have argued my case. It’s now time to begin another phase in my life. In it, social justice will continue to play a vital role.

I intend to focus on a less-developed part of my life – poetry and add to what I have written in the past (The Sabine Poems: Story of a Courtship, Segments, and Restoration Point).

I will continue my duties as pastor to St. Peter’s Church in North Lake as long as I able. Our relationships there over the past 12 years have also contributed to Sabine's spiritual and physical health. Of that I am sure.

The remaining portion of my life will continue to be served as a caregiver for my absolute best friend; a woman who has blessed and helped me to grow in so many ways and to write more poetry and to pursue Sannyasa as best I can.

We press on.

Time Flies!

It's been a year since my last post on this site? No way! But that's the date. During the past year a lot has happened concerning my "social justice" efforts. My blog "Improving Police" has been very active with another 200 posts and a total of over 1700 followers.

After last fall's successful conference on 21st Century Policing was held at the University of Wisconsin in Platteville I was asked to teach an introductory course this spring on criminal justice. I have just given the final exam this week and my last lecture this semester. The two events, the conference and teaching, will happen again this fall.

So how's my spiritual life with all this going on? Sabine (and yes, thanks be to God, she is still with me and we are holding the line on the cancer and living a fairly "normal" life) and I are in our 12th year at St. Peter's Episcopal Church in North Lake (between Madison and Milwaukee). It has remained one of my primary callings as we celebrated my 20th year in ministry last summer.

When one does parish ministry it comes with all the challenges of dying and burials, marriages, baptisms, teaching and outreach. (And, no, Christians are not always able to get along with one another!).

On the cancer front (and 5 weekly home hemodialysis sessions) we and our trusted medical staff have been able to manage both the cancer through an oral drug regimen and our handy 70# hemodialysis machine that we have been able to drag along with us in automobile, train, and boat.

Sabine's 92 year old mother, Charlotte, is with us on our farmette and while her memory has been greatly challenged she remains healthy and active in gardening and caring for our two donkeys.

This is been a year in which death has been pushed to the back row (it wasn't too long ago he was front and center in the first row!). While being in the back row, he has not left the theater. I know this and yet still hope for some kind of miracle knowing that every day we are each dying a bit -- carpe diem.

None of us will get out of here alive. So we are living in the moment as much as we can and appreciating the gift God has given us.

We acquired an old cruiser houseboat on the Mississippi River at Dubuque last year and enjoy our floating cabin on the river. We have even dialyzed while underway (firmly anchored!).

It is our respite. Our getaway in which we enjoy the gift of each other and knowledge of the God who journeys with us!

Peace to you and yours!


p.s You can also follow me on Twitter: @bocougar

I have been remiss in posting on this site. Instead, my energy has been put into my other blog called "Improving Police" on Wordpress. My spirituality has gotten some traction here with the crisis within our nation's police. I find Jesus' gospel teachings in my work on this site on which over the past four years I have written over 500 posts.

I have also been outspoken both nationally and locally about police use of deadly force in confrontations with young black men and the mentally ill months before the Ferguson tragedy. Reform is needed.

Parallel to this quest to help improve our nation's police is an awareness of how far we have fallen as a people with regard to racial reconciliation and harmony. Jesus himself prayed that we would one day "all be one as he and the Father are one." And Paul does likewise in his letter to the Galatians -- "no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free... but all one in Christ Jesus."

So you can find my spiritual activity over on the Wordpress site and you can also follow me on Twitter: @bocougar.

In the meantime, any as the prophet Amos declared, "Let justice roll on like a river and righteousness like a never-failing stream."

Peace.

GPS: God's Positioning System!

The Hope Church in Orlando, Florida

You can't always rely on GPS to get you to where you need to be.It happened to us this week in Florida. It was Sunday morning and we were headed east from Orlando and we looked for the closest Episcopal Church to attend. On the Internet -- St John's, Kissimmee at 10:30 am. 

I put the address into my GPS and off we drove. On the way, passed a large church called "The Hope Church" and Sabine agreed it was a great name. We also noticed they had an 11 am worship time. W\

But we continued on to St John's and found ourselves in an industrial park. We checked the address and entered it again. Still no church. So we decided to drive on to Hutchinson Island when Sabine reminded me about the church with the 11 am worship time. 

Okay. Let's try that one we said, it's always good to see how other folks are doing church. When we pulled into the parking lot we saw a lot of black people. And when we got inside, we found we we were the only white folks present among a congregation of more than 200. 

Now you get to know a church community pretty fast in the first seconds you enter. And this church was not only alive but welcoming as we were continually welcomed by various members of the congregation.

And the music! Wow! High-energy praise, young girls doing a liturgical dance, communion with what some Protestants often overlook that this is more than just a remembrance as the pastor prayed that this bread and wine would be unto us the body and blood of Jesus!

Oh yes, there were the hugs. I think we are a hugging congregation at our church in North Lake -- but The Hope Church had us turn around and hug our neighbor, pray for him or her, and give out encouragement at least three times during our worship together.

There was an altar call for healing prayer, recommitment, and strength to "press on." Tears came to my own eyes when I saw Sabine heading up the aisle for prayer. You know, it doesn't get much better than this.

The preaching was powerful, relevant, spoke to us and was deep into the African-American preaching tradition on Philippians 3:14 -- have real self-view, who you really are, leave self-sin-success-sex behind, press on, press on to those things which are ahead -- the mark of the prize in the high-calling of God in Jesus! Press on! You're weary -- press on! You're tired -- press on!

Maybe that's what we need in Christendom today to break down the walls which separate us -- to worship together black and white. Maybe one Sunday a month should be inter-racial worship; two congregations black and white -- 1/2 stays in place while other half joins a racially different church. We need to remember that we are one in Christ -- this is one way to do it; clasp hands and give a hug and affirm the teaching of Jesus and his Gospel!

That Sunday morning I came away feeling that God had something different, that he was going to move me from what was familiar to me to what he wanted for me. GPS will never mean the same thing to me again -- I need to keep tuning in to God's Positioning System.

Spiritual Rumblings

The Power of Forgiveness

Where have I been? Hmmm... life is what happens to you while you are living. It's been six months since my last post here. I have to confess that I have been immersed in the police side of my life since the tragic events in Ferguson, Missouri. You can see all that on my police blog which has been active since 2011 and has now over 350 posts on police and their improvement.

Along with my role as police author and blogger, I remain active as an Episcopal priest and pastor of a small, faithful flock of Christians who attend St. Peter's in North Lake, Wisconsin. My third role is that of "nurse practitioner" as I partner with my beautiful and longstanding, best-fried wife-companion Sabine beginning our 8th year fighting a pernicious cancer of the blood called "multiple myeloma." The cancer came upon us in the form or Sabine's kidney failure -- in which we also try to control through home hemodialysis five days a week.

In spite of all this, we remain active (except for a couple of falls and cracked bones during the past 18 months) as hikers, boaters, travelers, and family matri and patri-arches! Life is still a hoot and we go by our family mantra -- "It doesn't have to be perfect to be wonderful."

Spiritually, I deeply feel that I have been called to plant the first seed in a potentially abundant field. It is a seed that some of my colleagues in policing have called "the bitter pill." But I believe it is a healing pill that while it may first seem bitter has within itself the ability to heal.

A few weeks ago my faith and my former professional came strongly together. Some of you may know that since my deep journey into Christianity I have tended to focus on the immense power of forgiveness. This has taken the form of writing a piece in Bob Enright's book, "Exploring Forgiveness" in which I mentioned how I had used forgiveness to heal a breach with people of color in Madison when I was the chief. Those of us who call ourselves Christian know in our heart that it is one of the foundational pieces of our faith.

Throughout my life spiritual, I have been fascinated by the power of forgiveness. I have seen its power in my family and among my friends and parishioners. I was awed by what the Amish did in Nickel Mine, Pennsylvania. And I witnessed and experienced accounts of  it during my time in South Africa hearing accounts of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission during the Parliament of  World Religions in 1999.

I was also recently reminded that the Christian movement, Promise Keepers, did facilitated an apology from it's white Christian men to those men of color. Certainly, we in the church have a lot to apologize for in the way in which we have historically supported slavery and the Jim Crow system. A recent essay on reparation by Ta-Nehesi Coates brought all this home for me once again.

What I have seen and experience about forgiveness is that it WORKS!

So, my mission, my passion, is to press the recommendation I made to Pres. Obama's task force on policing. 

I am totally convinced that the only way forward regarding police-community relations and the restoration of trust between minorities and police is for the police to begin the journey forward by first apologizing, then building on a change in their behavior, seek forgiveness from those whom the domination aspects of our system has tended to oppress. It, of course, can be a personal apology from police who know that they have acted improperly, but it is also a matter of apologizing for the past. Last month I wrote about this in the Capital Times.

As a man of faith, I am putting all this to prayer as I am reminded of an old song from my childhood days during World War II: "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition."

My "ammunition" is my experience, knowledge, and (hopefully) wisdom.

My "praise" is prayer.

Will you join me?