Twelve Weeks of Dying: A Celebration of Life

By Kathy M. Pennigar

Life does not end just because the heart stops. A legacy is always left behind. A person's attitude upon death says everything about their belief system. The author, a registered nurse and Christian, takes you through twelve different deaths. Suicide, homicide, accidents, and terminal illnesses are some of the ways these precious people died. We have a choice in the way we live our lives and a choice in the way that we die. If you are a believer, death should not be feared. Jesus Christ took the sting of death away when He died on the cross. There is a bonus story at the end of the book to brighten your day. Poems from the author's heart have been woven into the stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449765514

Kathy M. Pennigar

Kathy Mullis Pennigar is a registered nurse and owner of a nursing agency. She is the author of Twelve Weeks of Giving and has published poetry, newspaper articles, and short stories. She has been married to Josef M. Pennigar for thirty-four years; they have a daughter who is also a registered nurse and a son who is a drug technician, as well as two grandsons and one granddaughter. Jesus Christ is her first priority, followed by her family, with whom she loves spending time. She is an artist and taught calligraphy for many years. She also enjoys drawing, painting, and photography.

Book preview

chapter one

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Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going. (John 14:1–4)

The day that I remember was Sunday. I was nine years old and had stayed over at a friend’s house. We played with Barbie dolls most of the time. Leah was a very good friend. She was also an only child and had a lot more dolls than I had. I was the middle child of two brothers.

The phone had rung many times that Sunday morning, but I didn’t think anything of it. But I do remember sitting at the table with her family, eating butter pecan ice cream, when the telephone rang again. There was something about that ring. I jumped in fright.

Leah’s dad asked, Are you okay?

I said yes, but I felt something was not right. Then I looked at Leah’s mom. She knew my expression demanded an answer, and she said, That was your mom. She wants us to bring you to your grandmother’s whenever you finish your ice cream. I still knew something was wrong and was silent the rest of the time.

Leah’s dad kept asking me if I was okay. I kept saying yes, but something in my spirit told me that something was not okay. As soon as we arrived at my grandmother’s, I noticed that there were many cars there, and then my cousin, Johnny, came running to the car, saying, Grandma’s dead.

My heart was broken. My brothers and I used to stay with my grandmother while our parents worked. She was a very important person in my life. I loved her very much. I remember her saying, If you do not have anything good to say about someone, then don’t say anything at all. She didn’t say that to me; I just remember her telling someone that.

My grandmother cooked three meals a day. She was a wonderful cook. My grandfather would not eat leftovers, so she cooked all of the time. Her grandchildren used to line up for her homemade jelly biscuits, which were the absolute best in the world. My mom would always feed us before we went to her house so that we would not embarrass her by asking our grandmother for biscuits. It didn’t work. We still asked for her delicious jelly biscuits.

I didn’t witness the death of my grandmother. I was told that she had made breakfast for my grandfather and then sat in her recliner and died of a massive stroke. She was a diabetic. Many mornings, I witnessed her giving herself