Ride the Waves: A Caregiver’s Journey

By Ann E. Van Dyke

In September 1996 while Ann VanDyke watched television with her husband, Bryan, she decided she wanted to be a hospice volunteer. But as she trained through a Denver hospital, Ann had no idea that Spirit was guiding her to prepare for a task that would ultimately take ten years to complete.

In a moving memoir, Ann chronicles her courageous and determined journey as she cared for her mother in her final years, uncovered shocking secrets about her family, and finally faced the grave news that her husband, Bryan, had ALS. As she vacillates between her memories of days gone by and her new reality, Ann leads others down an emotional path as she moved through the process of denial to acceptance, tested her spiritual fortitude, found joy even in the darkest of days, and learned practical coping skills. Through it all, Ann proves that no matter what our challenges, it is possible to persevere, laugh, and find a new beginning.

Ride the Waves is a poignant story of living in the midst of dying as a woman bids goodbye to her mother and spouse while celebrating love and life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Dec 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781982217983

Ann E. Van Dyke

Ann VanDyke holds a master of arts degree in psychology. She was a licensed therapist for many years until she retired from professional practice to care for her husband, Bryan, who had ALS. Today Ann lives in Puyallup, Washington, where she teaches self-empowerment, Reiki, and Karuna healing classes; facilitates a monthly grief group; and provides personal coaching.

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Copyright © 2019 Ann E. VanDyke.

Cover Design by Raul Zavala

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-1797-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-1799-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-1798-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018914727

Balboa Press rev. date: 12/17/2018

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1     Joyce’s Wave

Chapter 2     Ann Becomes Invisible

Chapter 3     The Waves Roll On

Chapter 4     The Waves Get Higher

Chapter 5     The Tsunami Hits

Chapter 6     The Water Recedes

Chapter 7     Smooth Sailing

Chapter 8     Venturing across the Ocean

Chapter 9     Back Home

Chapter 10   Rehabbing the House

Chapter 11   The Beginning of the End

Chapter 12   Aftermath

Epilogue

Dedication

T O CAREGIVERS—NONPROFESSIONAL AND PROFESSIONAL—WHO give of themselves, their time, and their love while caring for the dying. I wrote this book to honor your service and dedication.

Acknowledgments

I THANK MY DEAR FRIENDS who took the time to read the first drafts of this book. Your insights and feedback kept me writing and improved this book’s tone and quality. I thank Becky, Connie, Evonne, Jackie, Jean, and Nora in particular. I also thank all of you who prayed for me and encouraged me to keep going especially Carol, Debbie, Janet L, Janet R, Kim, Paige, Tracie, and many other members of my church. If I have left anyone out, that was unintentional, and I apologize.

Prologue

I T’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY in late July 2016 in Golden, Colorado. I stand at my front door looking out over the valley and thinking, Well damn. Bryan [my husband] is gone. Odin [my beloved German shepherd] is gone . Nala [my cat] is gone . All that’s left is this house. Well, it’s gonna get gone too! I’ll be damned if I’m gonna start my second decade as a widow in this h ouse.

I have lived in this house for over twenty-six years. It is nestled on the north side of Green Mountain in the eastern foothills of the Rockies. Bryan and I bought it in June 1990. I call it the Hotel Davis because over the years, it’s been home to our daughter Jean, who is divorced, and her three children. Bryan’s brother, our daughter Jackie, her husband, John, and their two sons, our grandson, David, and his girlfriend, Darlene, who is now his wife, have lived here off and on.

This house became a hospice for my mother and Bryan. Since they died, I have had various renters in my basement. Each renter brought something different into my life. I kicked my first renter out because of his drinking. My second renter moved out to go to graduate school in Fort Collins, my third renter was a friend whose apartment was being renovated, and my last renter, who is still with me, is a dear friend. I enjoy sharing my home with her, but it is time for a change.

I don’t have a game plan—just a vague idea. For our twenty-sixth wedding anniversary, Bryan and I went to Seattle. No reason in particular for going to Seattle; it just sounded like fun. While we were there, we took a day trip to Vancouver, British Columbia, a two-and-a-half-hour drive north on Interstate 5. It is a beautiful drive; the highway is cocooned in trees deciduous and coniferous. It is impossible to describe the many gorgeous shades of green from almost lime-green to a deep-blue green that blend and harmonize in a panorama of peace and beauty. You have to experience it to truly appreciate it. As Bryan was driving us back to our hotel, he said to me, If I weren’t dying, we’d move here. It’s so beautiful and green.

I mention to a friend that I am going to move but am not sure where. She suggests I call Debra Infante, a Vedic astrologer, and have her do an astrocartography chart for me.

What’s an astrocartography chart? I ask.

My friend and mentor, Jolene, smiles. It’s a way of figuring out where the best place is for you to live, where you’ll be the happiest, most successful, and even find love. It maps your natal chart against the world map. George and I had ours done, and it showed that here is where we would be the most successful and our love would grow.

At times, I envy Jolene and George’s relationship; it reminds me of my relationship with Bryan. And she and George have built a successful business. I suspect there might be something to this idea of astrocartography. I look it up on the internet and learn that an astrocartography chart, also known as a relocation chart, is based on one’s natal chart and gives a surprising amount of information about the direction and events of one’s life as well as one’s personality and makeup, and it is mapped against the world map. I suspect there might be something to this and decide to give it a whirl.

I call Debra, a Vedic astrologer; she casts the chart and emails it to me. Then we spend about an hour on the phone discussing what it indicates. My sun line—where I shine—runs up the east side of Seattle and Tacoma. My Venus line—where I feel love—runs up the west side of Seattle and Tacoma. The energy from these lines extends 200 miles on either side of the lines, so my sun line and my Venus line overlap and I will doubly resonate with northwest Washington. Our conversation is intriguing and informative. Intuitively, I know I am onto something important to my life.

I call my friend Roy, a Western astrologer, and he casts actual relocation charts for Seattle, Tacoma, and Puyallup, Washington, and compares these with my natal chart. Seattle does not match my natal chart, but Tacoma and Puyallup do.

After my discussions with Debra and Roy, I make up my mind to go to northwest Washington. I call a friend who is a real estate agent, and the house gets gone—I have only five showings before it sells. This is the power of prayer. My prayer is for the right buyer at the right price and at the right time. I trust I am being guided by Spirit. Daily prayer and meditation are part of my lifestyle. I begin and end my day with prayer, and somewhere along the line, I meditate.

Intuitively, I resonate with the information from the astrocartography and relocation charts. I sense my life is about to change for the better, and I head to Tacoma via Sarasota. Yes, I know they are on opposite coasts, but I also know I am being called to spend time in Sarasota. I have friends there—Astride and her family—with whom I will stay. My plan is to winter in Florida before traveling northwest.

On November 6, 2016, I leave Golden and drive to Sarasota, 1,919 miles. My plan is to drive 425–450 miles per day and arrive in Sarasota on November 11. I have my computer, a one-drawer filing cabinet, four small house plants, kitchen supplies, clothes for Florida and Washington, two camp chairs, and the conviction I am following my destiny. The rest of my belongings are being stored in a POD unit in Denver.

I am excited and anxious on my arrival in Sarasota. It is exciting to be ending this part of my journey. I have directions to Astride’s home but am anxious about making the correct turns. I keep a sharp eye out and reach her home without incident. She shares a two-bedroom apartment with her daughter, Brianna, and Brianna’s husband, Carlton. I will bunk in Astride’s room with her. Brianna and Carlton have the master suite with a bathroom en suite; Astride and I share the guest bath next to our room. She is working part time, so we spend a couple of days getting caught up. Astride begins to familiarize me with Sarasota. I use my Silver Sneaker’s card and sign up for water aerobics at the Y.

I go to the Y on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Every afternoon after lunch, I drive to Turtle Beach, a short, pleasant drive from our apartment over the bridge and onto the key. Turtle Beach is small and seldom has many people on it. The bathrooms and picnic pavilion are inside the beach fence and to the left of the parking lot. The pavilion is cool and surrounded by trees and bushes. I am usually the only one in the pavilion. I have a list of people and events I want to release from my past. I journalize about each person and event one at a time.

Then I stand in the waves of the gulf and let the past wash away. The waves are not large, and while the water is not as warm as it will be in the summer, it is still pleasant to feel the water hit my ankles and calves. As the waves roll out, I visualize my cares and what I am releasing going out into the gulf and leaving me room for an infilling of Spirit. As the waves wash in and over my feet, ankles, and calves, I visualize love, peace, forgiveness, and wholeness filling me. Often times, a gentle breeze is blowing, and this along with the mist from the waves keeps me cool.

Sometimes, I find shells on the coarse, light-brown sand. Occasionally, I see a person or a couple on the benches that dot the beach. There are days when I sit on a bench breathing in the salty tang of the gulf and being warmed by the sun and giving thanks for all I have or asking for continued guidance on my journey. I feel the presence of Mother/Father God. I welcome the freshness and the guidance of Spirit.

Some days, my journaling is difficult as I remember and release hurtful events, but I know forgiveness is the only way to free myself from past hurts and to move forward. One day as I am finishing a particularly painful forgiveness letter, a woman says to me, There’s a manatee and her calf in the lagoon. She points to a path, which I follow to the lagoon and stand for at least ten minutes watching the manatee and her calf play. It is indeed a very spiritual moment. I get home and look up the spiritual meaning of manatee and am amazed at how it dovetails with my activities.

Manatee indicates it’s time to slow down and take the time to swim through your emotions. Let your emotions wash over you so that you can feel what is all percolating there. By allowing yourself to feel you are also allowing yourself to move forward and as you move forward you release the old emotional baggage that no longer serves you. This will open up a new wide range of possibilities for you. Trust is also a big message that Manatee brings forth. Allowing yourself to move forward slowly and deliberately one step at a time will take you to your goals. Trust the path before you and trust your senses in guiding you there. This creature is also reminding you to use all of your senses including the etheric ones (experienced in the subtle bodies that surround the physical body). You will find your answers in the integration of your intuition, emotions and physical senses. (https://www.spirit-animals.com/manatee-symbolism)

This experiencing is validating for me. I know I am doing the spiritual work I need to do to move forward into a new, lighter, brighter, and more-loving life.

A few days later, I write my last forgiveness letter and journal my feelings; I stand in the waves of the gulf. I feel spiritually lighter, freer, more engaged. It is a heady feeling. I have spent the last thirty days purging the past, at least as much of it as I need to release at this time to move forward. As I walk to my car along the same path I have taken for the previous twenty-nine days, I see a perfect snakeskin lying on the path. This is the first time I have seen anything relating to a snake. This perfect snakeskin validates for me that I have left the past behind and am ready to move forward.

I am ready to leave Sarasota two months early. I don’t know how I am going to tell Astride I am leaving. She is planning on me being here for another two months, and Christmas is less than two weeks away. Yet I know it is time to go. I have done my work. I pray for direction and clear instructions.

On Wednesday, December 7, Astride and I go to Sarasota Circle of Light Church. She is more than just a friend; she is the daughter of my heart whom I love dearly. She is twenty-one years my junior, but we share a deep, abiding bond of love and connectedness. She has brown eyes and dark, naturally curly, brown hair, which I envy. Her cherubic face belies her backbone of pure steel. She is a water sign—Scorpio—to my air sign—Gemini. We are an unlikely pair to be such good friends. She is secretive while I am open and transparent. I wrote and taught a class, The Goddess Within. Astride was one of seven women who completed it. Our interaction in this class forged our friendship and love. Astride is not someone I would want to cross; she is someone I would want to have my back in a dark alley.

Sarasota Circle of Light Church is a spiritualist church, and on Wednesday nights there are message nights, which Astride and I like to attend. It is always interesting to see who will speak from the other side. At the front of the church are two vases of beautiful, long-stemmed red roses. I’ll admit it—I covet one of those roses. The minister is Reverend Joseph—Rev Joe—a tall man with an angular face and thinning brown hair. His way of speaking commands attention and lets one know he is in charge. Joe pulls one of the roses from a vase and walks toward me.

Ann, may I come to you?

Yes, please.

I have your mom here. She says long-stemmed red roses are your favorite flower. He hands me the rose.

Yes, they are, I say as I take the rose.

He cocks his head to one side as if he is listening to someone. She has a decidedly British accent, he says.

Yes, she was born and raised in England.

The rose and the accent tell me my mom is here. This is not the first time I have heard from my mom since she died. Each time someone has channeled her, she has put on the accent so I will know it’s her. What Rev Joe says next sounds just like my mom.

Your mom says, ‘You must choose for yourself. You must make the choice that makes you happy.’

I know this message is from my mom. Growing up, she always told me, You must choose for yourself.

When Astride and I get home from church, I put the rose in a plastic drinking glass of tap water. It looks lovely sitting on the table. The table is like a picnic table with two benches, and it fits perfectly into the dining nook of the galley kitchen that accommodates only one person at a time. The dinning nook abuts the kitchen and faces the living room. It’s small but cozy if only one or two of us are home, but it’s rather crowded for all four of us.

Tonight, Carlton is at work and Brianna is in their room doing homework. She is taking classes to earn a personal fitness trainer certification.

I sit at the table across from Astride. Pretty cool, your mom coming through tonight.

Yeah, it was, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard Mom say to me, ‘It’s your life. You have to choose.’ Her message was an answer to a prayer.

Astride has a quizzical look. In what way?

I link my fingers and put my hands on the table, I take a long, slow, deep breath. Astride, you know how much I love you. You’re the daughter of my heart, and I would never deliberately hurt you or let you down.

I pause to take a breath and look down. Astride says nothing. I look up. Astride, as you know, I’ve been going to the beach every day doing my releasing work.

Astride nods; I see a sheen of tears in her eyes. She is highly intuitive and knows I am leaving without my saying it. I know she needs to hear me say it.

I know I said I would be here about three months, and I’ve been here only about six weeks, but my work here is done. It’s time for me to move on. I want to do a releasing ceremony on the beach on December the thirteenth, the night of the full moon, and then I will leave on the fourteenth.

A tear leaks from Astride’s eye. So soon? What about Christmas? she asks in a quivering voice.

How about this weekend? I choke out as tears stream down my face.

Okay, but Brianna and Carlton will be disappointed.

I know, Astride, but Brianna will understand, and she’ll help Carlton understand. Brianna is very perceptive.

Carlton comes in from work as we finish our talk. Brianna comes downstairs.

Hey Mom, Ann—why are you two crying?

I hear genuine concern in Brianna’s voice.

Ann’s leaving on the fourteenth.

What? What about Christmas? Brianna is incredulous.

Bree, you know I’ve been working to release the past. I’ve accomplished that, and it’s time for me to go. I’m hoping that we can have Christmas this weekend and that you, Clayton, and your mom will help me do a releasing ceremony on the beach under the full moon on the thirteenth.

Bree sits and drapes her arm around my shoulders. She kisses my cheek. You gotta do what you gotta do. We can make Christmas happen this weekend, right Mom? Carlton?

We will all be home on Sunday. We set that as our day to have Christmas. Carlton is the only carnivore among us, so Christmas dinner is a vegan dinner—spaghetti sauce with vegetables over zucchini noodles and a tossed green salad. Carlton makes himself a burger. We talk and laugh. After dinner, Astride, Brianna, and I play the Tarot game. Carlton does not like that, so he watches TV. Then we exchange gifts. It is a lovely Christmas celebration.

On December 13, we all go to the beach. The fog is so heavy that we cannot see the moon. We stand at the edge of the surf in a semicircle facing the gulf. I say a prayer thanking Mother/Father God for their guidance thus far. I have already cut all my forgiveness letters into shreds. As I toss them into the surf, I state, I release the past. It is done, and I am free. We watch as the shreds of paper sink into the waves and wash away. Astride hugs me as do Bree and Carlton. We go home. My car is packed except for my cleanup kit, my pjs I will wear tonight, and the clothes I will wear tomorrow. I am ready to leave in the morning. My time here is done. My mission is complete.

I leave for Washington on December 14, 2016. I leave my rose in the glass on the table. I spend thirteen days driving. Each night, Astride texts me a picture of my rose.