It is with a heavy heart and extreme sadness that I must let you know that Alice passed away on Wednesday, 12/03/2025 at 12:41pm in my arms only feet from the doors of Duke Hospital.
Doctors and paramedics worked tirelessly for 47 minutes in attempts to revive Alice, at which point I was asked to "make a decision". My kidney doctor, who we were on our way to see for an appointment of mine and, hearing the news, had come to the ER, kindly offered to step in and make the call for me. She knew that there was absolutely no way I could have made that choice, and I will forever be grateful for Dr. Murray.
Alice's death came totally unexpected and was unrelated to her cancer.
We are (somewhat) patiently awaiting the autopsy report, which should be accessible within the next 90 days. Doctors are suspecting that either the aneurysm had burst, or that it was a blood clot, resulting in a heart attack.
I know Alice would have wanted me to continue her story of "bullet points" and knew this was my duty. So began my journey to find the "Password" list that Alice and I often talked about. I finally found it in that messy closet she has posted about. Yes indeed her filing system is just as messy as her closet. My stepdaughter, Rachel, and I discussed finishing her bullet points.
The following is the draft I found for Alices next post #8....
* After Daniel died in 1997, I said I would never go through what he went through should I ever be diagnosed with cancer. No chemo, no radiation, nothing, but maybe some meds to ease the pain. Then I'd get on a horse (possibly one with no name) and ride out into the desert at sun set.
* Recently, Carl and I drove in the Nevada desert. I knew I had cancer then. No tests had been performed yet, but I knew. Before our trip, I asked God to plan our journey, to go ahead and prepare the trip to Nevada---the experiences we would have, the whole nine yards.
*I thought of the phrase "prepare the way" and how John the Baptist prepared the way for Jesus's ministry.
*Our adventure in Nevada in September was fabulous. But, once back in Durham, NC, I knew what had to come next.
* I would need to be treated. After having a mammogram, ultrasound, and biopsy, the doctor told me she was 95% sure I had cancer. She (after what seemed like weeks) called to confirm that I do have invasive ductal carcinoma.
*I was not surprised. Step by step. Prayer by prayer. I changed my mind now that cancer was actually an issue I had to deal with. I'd go along with their plan---surgery, chemo, radiation, pills. Only they didn't have a plan because they weren't sure how far the cancer had spread.
Those are her last written words.
Hello everyone. This is Rachel, Alice's daughter.
Since seeing and kissing the cold hands and forehead of the woman who birthed and raised me on that unforgettable gurney on Wednesday, I've felt a deep connection to her. So much so, that I can feel her writing through me, and I know she would have added these additional bullet points (**) had she been able to finish her draft.
**Carl and I went to every one of our doctors' appointments together. Even though I was feeling weak from my recent ER visit on Thanksgiving Eve, I insisted I join him on Wednesday.
**We parked, finding a spot on the 1st level, which is almost unheard of at Duke hospital's parking deck, and headed towards the clinic where Carl was to have his kidney check-up with Doctor Murray.
**Not even 100 feet from our Jeep, whose radio likes to turn on at its will (we always joked about it, no matter how inconvenient the timing), I knew that this was it.
**Looking at my husband, I grabbed on to the first cement pillar, and I was able to get out my final words; "It's happening again. It's happening again."
**And, then, darkness, followed by peace. It happened so quickly- there was no time to feel pain.
**Although I had been worried about my children, brother, parents, wonderful and supportive husband, as well as fantastic friends, since my cancer diagnosis, I am grateful that it was instant. I didn't want you to have to see me wither away from the cancer that was taking over my body.
**I had accepted the fact that I didn't have much longer to live, and expressed that to my family at Thanksgiving. I put on a "brave face" for them, not wanting to cause additional fear.
**My hope and wish for my loved ones is that me leaving my physical body will bring a closeness to my family like never before.
**Please burn my journals. That is one request I gave my daughter when we met at Daniel's Place to write one Spring day. I have even written instructions to do so on their covers.
**As discussed, I dont want an expensive funeral. I've always been "frugal", which my kids and husband loved teasing me about. (The latest example being me buying sour cream and chive Lance crackers that my husband doesn't like, just because they were on sale), and want an inexpensive creamation in a cardboard box.
**Carl mentioned to me recently over coffee, that if you go before I go, I'm going to take some of your ashes and sprinkle them in the Colorado River where we left some of Daniel's ashes.
**Outliving a child is a nightmare. I cannot believe my parents, in their mid-90s, outlived their daughter, as I outlived my son.
**To my husband, who has been there for me and taken great care of me: I hope you can find peace knowing that I didn't have any pain, and am with the Lord and Daniel now. I know my passing is devastating for you, and am grateful that you were with me to share my last breath. Take good care of the pups and, most of all, yourself. You brought so much love and adventure to my life!
**To the Boxer Dogs, Bella and Harley: Give Carl lots of attention, and be a little less rambunctious! I loved watching your little wiggly, tailess, butts wagging for kibbles or an ice cube.
**To my son, Benjamin: I am happy that we shared a love for tea, and appreciated the protection you had for me. You give the most thoughtful gifts, but none could ever be as precious as your presence.
**To my daughter, Liz: All I ever want for you is serenity. Use my death as a bridge to rebuild broken relationships- mainly with yourself. That will make me beam with joy. There was never any moment where I didn't love you. A mother's love for her children is unconditional, and you are a special young lady.
**To my parents: You mean the world to me. Your love, support, and patience throughout the last 64 years has kept me going. Our post-church lunches at Bob Evans, which turned into the dining room at Croasdaile, were always a precious gift. I love you both. I will be here when you arrive. It's so beautiful.
**To my brother, Vince: You are the only one who knows what it was like growing up as the children of missionaries in Japan with a "radio show" we named "Talk a Mile a Minute". Sticking out like two sore thumbs, feeling like we didn't have a true country to call home, I was thankful that we had each other. The trip we took with mom and dad across country (in the States) in the station wagon with the worn out floor board, is a story I've told my children many times.
**To my daughter, Rachel: Thank you for finishing my bullet points. You always shared my passion for writing, and I hope you will continue to do so, and change many lives for the better. I know that's what you've always wanted to do.
**To my son, Daniel: I have missed you and thought about you nonstop since the 2nd of February, 1997. And before then, of course, when I was still able to hold you and kiss your cheeks. So glad that we can meet in the beautiful realm we're now sharing.
**To my friends: Each and every one of you and I share a special memory or inside joke. Thank you for bringing me laughter, support, hugs. For helping to strengthen my faith during dark days, and for our deep conversations. I'm grateful for your company.
**To anyone that I may have "left out", whether it be a reader of one of my novels, someone who made a recipe from my self-published cookbooks, ordered a poker chip insert or plaque from Carved by Heart, followed my blog, received my newsletter, have attended one of my Writing The Heartache workshops, shared worship services with, yet never spoke: Thank you for your support. I wouldn't have become the woman I became without you.
**Rejoice in my love for you all, and know that I felt no pain. I don't want you to feel pain.
**"There are no tears in Heaven."
She is survived by her husband Carl, three beautiful children Rachel, Benjamin and Elizabeth, as well as her brother Vince (yes, the somersault one), and her parents, Jane and Vincent.
Alice will be loved, missed and always in our hearts. Thank you to everyone that touched her life.
