Tomorrow will be 7 years since Liz Dietz went to heaven. This morning, I read back through every post I made about her journey on FB and cried—remembering the hard and the sweet. I clearly remember the day Andy & I took her to a doctor’s appointment in Amarillo and stopped at her favorite restaurant, Olive Garden. She ordered food and then decided she’d wait in the car. I knew in that moment I’d be moving in with her and caring for her. Andy & I talked about it over that meal. That was in January. I moved in the next day She died May 4.
Liz had vulva cancer. It’s an ugly, horrible cancer and is very painful. It was so hard to keep her pain-free. I can remember ministering to her and she’d say, “I never thought my daughter-in-law would have to do this!” I’d say, “Me neither!” And we’d both laugh.
You may not know this, but Liz and I had a difficult relationship. I married the first twin—and it was hard for her to let go. Plus I was fighting for acceptance—in every wrong way, I’m sure. Her cancer journey was healing for both of us. She finally knew I loved her and she thanked me often. It was also hard. I kept asking God (as I’d sit at the nursing home with her for hours), “Are you sure this is what I need to be doing??” It was monotonous. But God knew that the consistency of my presence would speak love to Liz.
A couple of moments stand out to me. One was when every door closed to keep her in the nursing home. We had to take her home. I shut down emotionally and mentally. I was also exhausted physically. I had worked for weeks with the help of my sister-in-law, Amy (an estate lawyer), to keep her in the nursing home—but bureaucratic red tape kept it from happening. We had no idea how long she’d live at that point, and all I could see was caring for her all by myself for an extended period of time. (That never happened throughout the journey. Family always jumped in to help! But I couldn’t see that in the moment through the fog of exhaustion and disappointment.). I was completely overwhelmed.
The other moment was while she was still in the nursing home. Liz did NOT want to die. She had a hard time letting go of everything here. She was asleep one day and I stood over her and said, “Let go, in Jesus’ name!” About the third time I said it, she woke up and had heard me. 😳🤣. She looked me dead in the eye and said, “I will. But you have to pick up the baton and carry it.” I assured her I would. What baton was that? I knew immediately—the baton of sharing Christ and praying for the family. Those were the two things we knew her for most!
Two nights before she died, I was sleeping in her room to be near in case she needed me and she talked to people in heaven all night long. She’d been talking to her sister, Beverly, and her husband, Bob. And she said, “I’m coming! Just give me a minute!” 🤣
We talk about Liz a lot. One of our favorite things she’d say was a long drawn-out, “Welllllllll, honey!” It was kind of like a southern, “Bless your heart!” But if she didn’t agree with you, you’d just get a, “Welllllll…”
Liz loved the Lord and she loved people!! She led many people to Christ and discipled them. Seven years have flown by. I’m so grateful we finished well with our relationship. And I think she’d be pleased to know the majority of her family are carrying the baton!
*This photo is my favorite of her. Ricky Garzon had come to her room and played his guitar and led us in worship. Liz was worshiping.