Beverly died in an ICU on April 17th. The story of her life and death is one of facing and overcoming many obstacles - rape, alcoholism, homelessness, cancer - and a lot of miracles along the way.
Thank you for the opportunity to tell her story and for taking the time to read about her life :-)
Beverly was a very tender and kindhearted person who maintained those qualities even through events chronicled here that would have robbed many of that sensibility forever.
THE BEGINNING OF OUR LIFELONG BOND
Before our parents disappeared:
(more on the circumstances we wouldn't know for years is below)
Beverly and I in the orphanage:
Beverly and I had an incredibly close bond then that lasted throughout her life, formed no doubt from having gone through an orphanage, foster homes, and adoption together. As close as any siblings I've ever known. I was her protector.
Our names were Bert and Margie then, and we had a relationship like twins, some of that being the fact we were less than a year apart and the rest life circumstances. Different sets of potential parents would come to see us, most wanting only either a boy or a girl but not both of us. Our state social worker, Miss Berkley, was determined to keep us together. 'Why?' turned out to be quite a story only revealed later in our adult lives (more on that in a bit). I was 3 and Bev was 2 when the couple who eventually adopted us came to see us (both in their mid 40's then). It was a fun day. A year later Bev and I were adopted together by them on our dad's birthday and renamed Daniel and Beverly. I vividly remember that day.
OUR NEW PARENTS AND HOME
Our new parents were polar opposites. Dad was a tall, funny and very tenderhearted humble factory worker. He'd 'lived' some in his younger days, and loved dogs and kids. Mom was raised on a farm as an only child and lost her own mother at 2 years old. She had zero nurturing skills, completely unprepared for motherhood, flustered and angry most of the time. She wasn't a hugger, but a ready hitter. "Spare the rod and spoil the child" was her motto. Bev and I didn't get along with her at all and never felt wanted. In fact, she'd tell us nearly every day "I wish I'd never gotten you kids." So, Bev and I depended on each other. Dad worked the afternoon shift for the extra pay, and so we hardly saw him except on weekends, when he'd dote on us, tired, playing catch, taking us to see and do things.
We grew up with what we needed and a little bit of what we wanted due to their self sacrifice. Dad was a lot of fun and had a great sense of humor, which Beverly and I picked up on. He was also a real dog lover. That continued throughout Beverly's and my life as well. "God's love ambassadors" we called them. When we buried our adoptive mother, the side of dad's vault was showing as mom's casket, covered in a hundred carnations and roses, sat atop her final resting place. When the hearse drive asked us to say the Lord's Prayer there in that little country cemetery, a chocolate lab puppy 5 or 6 months old nudged me on the leg. As though I instinctively knew what he wanted I scratched his head and told him it was okay. He crawled up to the casket and ever so carefully pulled a carnation off the flower blanket, then pranced in front of me as he shook his head in glee and watched the petals float down like so many snowflakes. The three of our eyes opened, and we laughed until our stomachs hurt as he did that to every single flower, parading them in front of us one by one and having the time of his life. I have to believe dad sent that dog to make that day joyful rather than morose. Beverly laughed as deeply as I. TY God.
Bev was very tenderhearted and brought home any stray or wounded animal she saw. Once, when Beverly was about 4 she was crying and mumbling unintelligibly. I went and got dad. When she finally calmed down a little Beverly told him she was worried about the puppies who'd been adopted out. Dad called every family who'd adopted one. Over the course of that weekend, we visited each and every puppy to make sure they were all OK for Bev's sake. I remember it like it was yesterday. All was well.
In addition to a kind heart, Bev had a fun personality and was always up for an adventure doing anything new or interesting. She usually wanted to do what I did. LOL To wit: Our first Christmas with our new family - which set off the music bug (we inherited) :
Church Directory Photo - Bev at 15:
Bev at 16:
THEN THE WORLD CAME CRASHING DOWN
A few weeks after the last picture (with our dog, Snooks) was taken, Beverly didn't make it home from the outdoor ice skating rink at the park. The reason was she'd been raped by a then unknown assailant. The rapist was rather quickly identified, apprehended, and ultimately sentenced to prison shortly afterwards, but Beverly began sinking into an emotional prison of her own. Mom, who was extremely religious and strict, constantly criticized her as though it was Beverly's fault. She was always harsh and critical of Bev.
Even worse followed soon afterwords. One night, after hanging out with some friends, she got in a car with a stranger and ended up kidnapped by a white slavery ring. She was missing for 2 years. Dad and I spent many nights driving around aimlessly looking for her and showing her photo. One night Beverly showed up at the house barely alive. She nearly didn't make it in the hospital. No telling the psychological trauma she'd experienced.
She could never talk about it with us. It took a LOT of psychological help for her to regain a little sense of normalcy. She began drinking a lot to numb her inner demons. Because neither Beverly nor I could handle alcohol AT ALL this led to many more traumatic events in Beverly's life - car wrecks, abusive boyfriends, and a complete loss of self esteem.
OUR 'ROCK' DIES
Dad died suddenly and unexpectedly in 1980 of a massive heart attack when Bev was 22. I was living in L.A. working as music director for one of dad's superstar idols and flew home for the funeral. Beverly and I stayed loaded throughout that week, unable to cope with the deep emotional pain of his loss. Dad was the one person we could both count on to always be there for us 'no matter what'. Mom, on the other hand, was an extremely critical person for Beverly to live with - constantly reminding Bev of her every misstep throughout her life. Losing Dad was emotionally analogous to a ship losing it's anchor and being set adrift. At least I had a relatively successful music career to hang onto - superficially anyway. Beverly was there when he died and it affected her more than me because I was living in L.A. while she was stuck right where all the pain was. We were both heavily self-medicating emotions by drinking more and more frequently from then on.
THANK YOU BILL W
I went into a terrific alcohol treatment facility in 1982 called Sacred Heart, run by an eccentric catholic priest named Fr. Vaugn Quinn. For the next 7 years I'd make gentle attempts over the phone and during visits home to get her to consider treatment and confront her alcoholism. I prayed every night: "God, please let her have one happy day". She was deeply lost.
THE FIRST STEPS FORWARD
In 1989, when she finally entered rehab, she was living back at mom's following another horribly abusive relationship. She was a broken young woman. Three months later she came out of treatment shining like I hadn't seen her since before the rape years before. Full of life, clear eyed, and hopeful about the future. She embraced the sober life completely - attending AA meetings regularly and helping others.
She had 10 relatively happy years.
AA: BEVERLY AND I HAD AN EARLY CONNECTION - REEEEALY EARLY:
Our birth father would abandoned us often, for days, weeks, even months at a time. During one of those periods our mother and we kids lived for a few months with my mother's personal physician and his wife, Dr. and Mrs. Russell Smith, the nephew of "Dr. Bob" - co-founder of AA. As Mrs. Smith told it when I found her, Bev and I would sit on Bill and Lois Wilson's laps a couple times when they visited, which happened on a frequent basis during that time period. Bill Wilson was studying Dr. Smith's work at the Brighton Hospital in Brighton, MI, one of America's first alcohol treatment centers. During one visit by our biological father, Gerry, Mrs. Smith caught him pouring copious amounts of whiskey in our baby bottles to make us pass out. Bev and I were probably drunk any number of times as toddlers. There's irony for ya. Funny how things come full circle! LOL
BACK ATCHA BRO
A year later, on June 29th, 1990, while stopped several feet off the shoulder of a dark, deserted freeway, the vehicle I was traveling in was hit by a drunk driver going 75 mph. My friend was killed instantly. It was a horrible scene. After weeks of reliving the horror (PTSD) I picked up a drink to calm the endless loop of reliving that while awake, and the kicking and screaming nightmares while I was able to sleep. Bev would call and tell me things like "24 hours is the world record for staying sober" because I felt so much guilt about relapsing after 8 years of continuous sobriety. I went back and back to AA meetings nearly every day and maintained varying periods of sobriety - 6 months, a year, 6 days, 2 years ... and so it went for the next 5 years crawling back too many times to count; humiliated for having gotten drunk ... again.
Beverly was always in my corner with words of encouragement.
SURPRISE! 1993
Ever since my music career took off I'd spent money hiring private detectives to try to find our natural parents or family members, but to no avail. Older adoption records are tightly sealed and tightly controlled. May as well try breaking into Fort Knox. Very discouraging. Our adoptive parents shared the little they knew about our life before them and didn't discourage us from finding our birth families one day. All Bev and I knew were our names (which we called each other variations of for many years), that our father was a musician and 10 years older than our mother, and that our mother was a quite young when we were born.
At the end of several weeks of therapy I finally received for the PTSD resulting from the wreck that killed my friend, the therapist handed me a book called "SEARCH: An Adoptee's Guide to Finding Your Birth Family". Long story short, a few weeks after mailing away the registration for the "Mutual Consent Adoption Registry" and "non-identifying information" (they didn't reveal much) from the adoption agency in Michigan, I got a call from a social worker who informed me Bev and I had a sister 2 weeks shy of a year younger than Beverly named Deborah who'd been adopted out to another family and had known about and been looking for us for 18 years. Bev and I didn't have a clue, although I had a faint memory of a baby in a dresser drawer. We all met for the first time in Nashville a few days later.
This is why Miss Berkley, our social worker when we were little, was so determined to keep Beverly and I together even though it meant we wouldn't be adopted as quickly.
Deb and Bev both played the same instruments growing up (separately) and I play piano and trumpet like our birth father. Deb's a music teacher. I'm in the music biz. Guess alcoholism wasn't the only thing passed along in the genes. LOL
OPEN YOUR BAGS PLEASE
This picture is the three of us when we met our birth father, Jerry, later that week for the first time since we were 2, 1, and and a newborn. He was an alcoholic (surprise!). The text explains the rest:
MARRIED
Beverly got married later that summer of '93 to a guy she met in AA. Our newly found sister, Deborah, was her maid of honor and I was best man. (Bev was my wife's Maid Of Honor at our 1987 wedding). It was great to see Beverly relatively content. Bev and her husband looked after our adopted mom (I was living in Nashville by then). Her sobriety was going well, but I was still struggling and relapsing every few months despite daily AA meetings and a heartfelt quest to stay sober. Bev always offered encouragement and never a negative word. Always positive.
HOW I FINALLY GOT SOBER
In 1995, after an accumulated 13 years of AA meetings and 3 treatment centers, I finally had my own meaningful personal experience doing the AA 'program': The 12 Steps of the "Big Book" of AA. At last I was able to identify, face, and be rid of all the unresolved stuff I'd been self-medicating that blocked me off from emotional and spiritual peace.
It's easy to stop drinking. I did it hundreds of times. Most relapses occur because an alcoholic hasn't 'cleaned house' and found meaningful emotional recovery from the things that eat their lunch - the things we self medicate with alcohol. The 12 Steps of AA offer a path where we can identify, face, and be rid of all of that crud so we're comfortable in our own skins and living day to day with true peace and happiness. It's thinking - "dis-ease"; a lack of comfort and ease - that leads to drinking when one really doesn't want to. Many quit at one time or another. Staying stopped requires more ....
Beverly hadn't ever really 'cleaned house'. She wouldn't until years and many heartbreaking falls later. Some of which nearly ended her life.
1997 - FINDING OUR BIRTH MOTHER'S FAMILY
I continued taking a lot of time trying to find our birth mother and her family, but without much success. Finally, in 1997 I found our mother's sister, Belle, and her two brothers - Frank and Joe. It was a bittersweet reunion because they'd spent 20 years looking for our mother after we all disappeared, and no one knew where she was.
They'd also been in foster homes as kids after losing their father at a young age because of (surprise!) alcoholism, and our grandmother grew up in an orphanage. It's amazing how some things like alcoholism and such are passed along to following generations, isn't it?
Beverly and her husband, Deborah and I, and our adoptive mom met up in Jacksonville, Florida a couple weeks later to meet our mother's family.
Our mother has never been found, but not for lack of trying.
OUR MISSING MOTHER, IDA:
The story of how I found my mother's family is too long to share here, but one a Hollywood script writer would have a hard time making up.
2000 - BEVERLY'S DOWNWARD SPIRAL RETURNS
In 2000, life began to unravel for Beverly. Our adopted mother started showing signs of Alzheimer's, her husband's untreated anger issues were in full tilt and, to make matters much worse, Beverly noticed a lump in her breast.
Two weeks after being diagnosed with breast cancer Beverly's insurer promptly canceled her policy! (go HCR!!) A week after that she suffered a compound fracture of her right arm. Fighting the insurance company (to no avail) and holding so many bad cards, it wasn't long before Beverly took another drink - 10 years, 11 months, and 3 days after her last one before that. She divorced her husband after she saw him push our mom and discovered he'd borrowed up all the equity in our parent's house she'd been given for looking out for mom. Bev lost her job. Mom's Alzheimer's got worse. Soon, she'd lose everything.
(right before the divorce):
Beverly finally got her mastectomy, but the breast tumor grew large rapidly and metastasized into bone cancer by the time she had the operation.
Beverly lost the house - too proud to tell me or anyone else until it was too late to help. Her drinking didn't take long to become an acute problem again. She was homeless for several weeks and eventually moved in with a friend from AA, but her life continued to spiral downward. I made frequent trips to Michigan when I'd get another "you'd better get up here ASAP" phone call.
I'd tried to get Bev into alcohol treatment again and again, but every time she'd either fail to show up, leave when the van came to take her, or walk out of treatment after a day or two. She was a very lost soul.
By 2003 I'd been "Big Book", i.e. "emotionally" and physically sober for 8 years - so different for the better from the previous 8 years of sobriety I'd had. I'd gently remind Bev what she'd said to me so many times during my own 5 year period of repeated relapses: "24 hours is the world record for staying sober". Her way of telling me to quit beating myself up over lost 'time', i.e. continuous years of sobriety in AA. It's hard to crawl back to AA meetings once you've gotten drunk again. The guilt and self doubt are hard to shake. Beverly was no different.
CLOSE CALL!
The last 'emergency trip' I made was a doozy. Yet another "come ASAP" call. She was drunk out of her mind. I counted her cancer medications and discovered she hadn't been taking them. I suspected she had a death wish. She walked out of the first ER in downtown Detroit in her hospital gown at 2 am. Hours later when I finally found her back where she was living I took her to a nearby ER. Bev's white blood cell count was so low the doctor said another couple hours and they wouldn't have been able to save her life. The bone cancer was getting worse. A small brain tumor showed up on an MRI. When she came around a couple days later Bev finally began to face her own mortality.
A NEW DESIRE
The mastectomies left her feeling like "what guy would ever want me?". The drinking continued to beat her down. She didn't like herself very much and hated her life. After a couple drunk driving episodes she didn't have a driver's license anymore, so she had to take the bus for her chemo and radiation treatments. All that piled on top of her drinking was so much for her to deal with, so she didn't do well with any of it until that moment of clarity when she found a renewed desire to live again.
A spark turned into a burning desire to turn her life around and seek lasting, quality sobriety. To live. She walked 2 miles each way in Michigan winters to go to AA meetings. She got a sponsor. She did the Steps. She did everything she could to help others help her. She got better. And better. And better. The lights were coming on in her eyes. She had hope again.
LOVE COMES KNOCKING
Beverly had a really cute personality and got into everything she did with gusto. One night after she'd been sober close to a year - at an AA costume party in early 2006 - a guy noticed her, thought she looked like a doll in her cute costume, struck up a conversation about it, and asked her out. They clicked. As he tells it, it took some trying before she agreed to date him - or anyone. She was really into healing her relationship with herself and God. But, a few weeks later she agreed to go on a date. Bev told him about her having Stage 4 cancer, her relapses, mastectomy ... everything. Rick, who retired at 48 from Ford after 30 years, had a farm with horses and a pond. Bev's living situation at the time wasn't very good. After they'd dated a few weeks she moved out there with him in the country. A little slice of heaven on Earth. Horses, ponds, woods, open spaces ... peace.
Bev and Rick, along with her black lab, Basil, lived a rather idyllic life for the next few years, had a lot of fun, and went a lot of places, baseball games, camping, horseback riding, hikes. His farm (and personality) offered the tranquility Beverly needed to deal with her cancer. That didn't stop her from playing on the church softball team though!! She was one of the best 2nd basemen you'll ever see, and could hit like a major leaguer.
After all Beverly had been through - and was going through with Stage 4 bone cancer - this was a miracle for me to behold. She was the happiest I'd seen her, maybe ever. That isn't the only miracle about her life though.
CHRISTMAS
I bought her a Karaoke machine. She was ecstatic! Proclaiming "I'm gonna sing here and do this (or that) song!!". She always had hope she'd beat the cancer. Well, she had for 8 years already. Why not, eh?
A SHRINKING WORLD
Within 3 months following Christmas Bev took a turn for the worse. She got weaker and finally required oxygen as the cancer worked its way into her lungs. The bone cancer was taking other forms. Tumors were beginning to show up in her brain too, which they treated with radiation. The last time I spoke to Bev, the last thing she said to me was "Pray for me Daniel. Pray the MRI will show I can get radiation. I don't want to die". She could barely breathe.
48 HOURS
She got out of the hospital April 15th. That night, she began experiencing great difficulty breathing, so she was rushed to the nearest ICU. I received a call the next day - April 16 - from my cousin, Eleanor (a nurse) informing me Bev was on life support - ventilator, feeding tube, etc. I drove all night to Michigan from Nashville prepared to stay an unknown length of time. The thought of her dying was crushing. Worse yet was the thought that after life support was removed she'd awaken from the drug induced coma to realize she was dying, struggling for every breath. As it turns out God answered yet another prayer.
THE END IS NEAR
I arrived at the hospital in the morning April 17th and found my way to her room in the ICU. I wasn't prepared. She was in a drug induced coma to prevent her fighting the ventilator, but looked like the picture at the top of the thread - peacefully unconscious with her golden hair washed & looking as pretty as I'd ever seen her. It was a shock to say the least being confronted with the sight of her laying there on life support.
I've been told people in comas can hear you. So, I told her how proud I was of her overcoming tremendous odds time and time again with both her alcoholism and her fight with cancer. I ran through memories of our lives: the cute little girl who clung to her brother, the teenager who fought to survive her rape and kidnapping ordeals, the young woman who'd recovered from alcoholism twice, the funny, affectionate, kindhearted person she's always been. The woman she'd become. The happiness she'd finally found with Rick.
THANK GOD FOR DOCTORS LIKE THIS!
At 9 o'clock the nurse told me the attending physician wanted to speak with me, so I went out into the hallway. He told me the results of her MRI's from her previous hospital stay were in: Multiple brain tumor, a lung tumor that had closed off her left lung and another in her right which was doing the same, liver tumors, plus the bone cancer. There was no hope of surviving this time as she'd done so many times before.
I looked him directly in the eye and told him about putting my beloved golden retriever rescue to sleep because of cancer and how we humans considered that the humane thing to do so they wouldn't suffer. Without uttering the words out loud, he understood my position regarding Beverly and told me when I was ready we'd remove the life support. After a couple hours sitting by her bed with a heavy heart and praying for strength, I told the doctor I was ready,
HER LAST MINUTE OF LIFE
At 2:42 in the afternoon on April 17th, the nurse came into the room and removed the ventilator. Beverly began a labored breathing - struggling for each breath. The nurse injected a huge vial of morphine into her med pump and Beverly began to relax.
I'd read a wonderful book years before called "Embraced By The Light" by Betty J. Eadie about her profound near death experience. It was not only a key to my shedding all that stuff about a 'punishing God' I'd learned as a kid in church, but also led to a lot of healing over the wreck that killed my friend so horribly and left his kids fatherless and his wife a widow so young. That many of the trials and tribulations we go through in life are a part of the learning process. That "Life is School" for our true selves - spiritual beings going through the human experience ...
I thought about that as Beverly's breathing slowed and finally stopped. The nurse said her heart was still beating and would continue to for another minute or so. Bev's last minute of life. Wow.
Believing Beverly's spirit was still attached to her body by a thread there in the room, I told her how much I loved her, that of course I'd be very sad and, jokingly, that if I wasn't she'd be upset. The nurse turned to me after awhile and said, "she's gone". She did not die. She went 'home'. Back where she came from.
SHE'S GONE - 2:43 PM EST - April 17
Then it was over. She died at peace with herself and everybody else (check out the video below in her own voice). I lingered in the room, cut her hair to donate to "Locks of Love" (who make wigs for kids with cancer) as she requested, and sat in stunned silence trying to absorb reality.
The 'umteenth' miracle of Beverly's life was to happen in about 10 minutes ...
A TIMELY BLESSING
When Bev took a sudden turn for the worse around New Year's, we talked about a lot of things. She expressed a wish to be an organ donor. She was always a giver - to animals and humans alike. Beverly was saddened though and said, "I'd like to donate my organs to help someone else, but with all this cancer there probably isn't anything usable", and she shrugged and sighed.
I said my final goodbyes and walked out the hospital doors into a sunny parking lot with a dam of tears that wanted to fall but that I chocked back. 10 minutes later the phone rang...
"I'm (??) from the Michigan Eye Bank. I'm so sorry about your loss. I'm calling because I wondered if your sister ever considered being an organ donor". I replied yes, but that the cancer probably prevented that possibility. He told me that her corneas weren't affected and asked if that would have been Beverly's wishes and would I'd consider donating them. The world suddenly got a lot sunnier and I perked up. Of course I said yes. She'd have been really happy about it.
,center>See the follow up to that call below
ASHES TO ASHES
Beverly wanted to be cremated, so that's what I did. The following Monday I picked up her ashes. What a feeling that is to hold a box with all that's left of someone you've loved so deeply your entire life. Anyway, Beverly had made a list of where she'd like her ashes scattered. MOST importantly at Comerica Park, where her beloved Detroit Tigers played. The last time Bev and I went and did anything it was to a Tiger's game the previous fall.
It just so happened that THAT DAY they Tigers were having an 'Onfield Clinic" where fans could go out on the field and players offered tips in hitting, pitching, etc all over the outfield. Rick and I had loaded up some of her ashes in a couple dozen film canisters and stuffed them in the pockets of cargo pants. When no one was looking we scattered them all over the outfield, infield, and in the bushes by the scoreboard - smiling the whole time.
Then it was off to the house Bev and I grew up in, and the Free Methodist Church we attended every time the doors were open through our childhoods (like Baptist, but way stricter).
I still have about a quart of her ashes on the fireplace mantle to sprinkle in the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico - the last of her list. Just haven't been ready to let them go yet, but I think the time is near.
TWO MIRACLES BEVERLY GAVE:
There's one last "Beverly Miracle" to share. Two miracles she gave.
This letter arrived about 3 months after her death and provided a lot of peace. I encourage everyone to be an organ donor:
I feel so blessed two people are seeing the world through her eyes - once filled with hopelessness, but in the end filled with light, love, and happiness.
FINISHED (and unfinished?) BUSINESS
Beverly died with 3 years of quality emotional sobriety. There's a video below of her giving a talk about shedding her resentments through the 12 Steps. Beverly's experience with recovery helped a lot of people she knew, and many she never met. "Don't quit 5 minutes before the miracle". Beverly never quit trying.
God willing, I'll be picking up my 16 year AA medallion July 18th, and will think of Beverly as I have every other time. She helped me so much when I was relapsing and having such a hard time in life in the aftermath of that wreck.
EPILOGUE
I didn't want a 'funeral' where people were sad, so we held a "Celebration of Life" for Beverly at her church a few weeks later Memorial Day weekend. Many good stories were shared about her kindness, generosity, and the positive impact she'd had so many lives. The softball team she played on held a little memorial on the church ball diamond afterwords where they all stood in their positions - leaving 2nd base, Beverly's position - empty.
Our adopted mom got Alzheimer's disease in 2000 and turned into herself as a cute, funny, happy-go-lucky 6 year old. It was amazing to see what she was like before a life of loneliness on a farm without her own mother left its mark. "We are what we know" is so true. Bev and I grew mighty grateful in hindsight for the care, sacrifice, and love she gave in the only ways she knew how. Mom, Bev, and I had a great time together in mom's later years. All was forgiven.
Jerry, our birth father, died 2 weeks before Beverly. We helped get him out of prison in 2007 and into a nice nursing home where he died peacefully as a forgiven man. In retrospect, he was the person God put in my life to teach unconditional love. We were both freer than we'd ever been that day.
THANK YOU
Thank you for taking the time to read this diary. It was very cathartic to write it. I appreciate the opportunity. Thanks to Dem in the Heart of Texas for setting this up and taking the time she does.
I thank God for the gift of the years I had Beverly in my life.
My email's on my user page. Feel free to contact me
God Bless.
(Sorry this got so long! LOL)
Video - BEVERLY TALKS ABOUT FORGIVING - 16 minutes:
If you'd like to hear Beverly's voice this is a talk she gave to a convention on 'resentments' and 'forgiving' shortly before she passed away. What she talks about is what made all the difference in her life. She's pretty funny too.
A link to all previous Grieving Room diaries.