It was a quiet evening in August 2021, not quite a year ago, when I received a text from my lovely wife that her mother had finally succumbed to cancer. It had been a whirlwind of summer since the original call in early April that her mother had been diagnosed with stage 4 throat cancer. The tumor was pressing on her cardioid artery, and she wasn't expected to survive more than a few weeks, perhaps days.
Thankfully, Linda's winter job as ski instructor/office manager had just concluded, and Linda decided that she would take our youngest son Sean to Oklahoma to help the family with shuttle driving between the hospital and home. The four surviving daughters were rallying as best they could around their mother; however, as everyone knows, hospitalizations always come at the most inconvenient times.
When Linda and Sean arrived in Oklahoma, she called to inform me that her mother was in the hospital, and the doctors wanted to try some treatments to see if they could reduce the tumor. The treatments wouldn't be a cure but could potentially extend Judy's life. The travel time between the home in rural Oklahoma and the hospital in Tulsa required about 45-minutes depending on traffic. As the sisters became more organized and COVID-19 restrictions were slightly relaxed, Judy could have at least one daughter in the room with her at all times. The sisters would rotate between caregiver duties depending on work schedules and home requirements.
Later Linda would tell me about all the patients in the hospital that she would come into contact with while helping her mother between treatments. "They all had broken bodies, but their souls were oh so beautiful," Linda said, and she was grateful for the time she spent with them. It seemed a miracle that the doctors could shrink the tumor enough to release her mother from the hospital. Finally, the extra time the doctors had treated for and the family had hoped for would be granted.
For the next few weeks, Linda and Sean would help around the house, traveling between Tulsa and Manford whenever Judy needed treatment. The reality, however, was that neither could stay indefinitely in Oklahoma and with three other family members close to help, the extended stay began to draw to an end.
At home again, Linda settled into her summer routine of creating works of art in jewelry form, riding horses between creative sessions. One evening while reading a book, she brought me one of her new designs. It was stunning. "I'm starting a new line," Linda said. "I want to call it ‘Broken but Beautiful’ to honor the women I met at the hospital." She then explained that sometimes the stones broke during the shaping or polishing process and would generally be discarded. However, the rocks themselves were still beautiful, and she hoped to be able to mold the imperfections into her artwork using wire wrapping or silversmithing.
The beauty of the jewelry piece I held in my hand was evidence of my loving wife's respect for these extraordinary ladies of Oklahoma. It was almost four months from the doctor's first diagnosis to the night I received Linda's text message regarding her mother's passing. The extra time was a godsend to the family, and each new piece Linda sells from her Broken but Beautiful collection serves as a reminder of how lovely broken things can be.