A Labor of Love

Prologue…

I love my older sister very much.  Her name is Molly Joy Burleigh.  This blog post was originally intended to focus on the last months of her life, but it has turned into something a little different.  I was fortunate enough to be her caregiver during the last months of her life.  We laughed, cried, and suffered together, as my dear sister battled cancer during the Fall of 2017.  On the fifth anniversary of her death, I felt that I was finally emotionally ready to write this post.  I had sat down many times to write about her, and her valiant battle with cancer, but just couldn’t.  On December 14, 2022, I spent several hours going through some of her old photographs that survived Hurricane Harvey (during a stop we made in Orange on the first day of a trip to Florida).  Those old photos stirred many memories, and reminded me of my love for my big sister.  As a result, I’m finally sitting down to write about her, and my original idea to focus on the last months of her life blossomed into a general essay about her goodness and her life, as well as the profound influence she has had in my life.  That afternoon I spent in her metal building with her photos and family artifacts rehabbed my memories and my spirit.  I cried, I laughed, and I realized just how grateful and lucky I was to have Molly for a sister. I also realized how those last few months I spent with Molly were a much needed lesson in dignity and grace, and just how fortunate I was to have lived my life with her as my big sister.  Here are some of my thoughts about, and my experiences with, my big sister Molly Joy… 

The Early Years…

Molly Mountjoy (McCoppin) Burleigh (aka “Molly Joy”) was born in Orange, Texas, on November 4, 1950, to John Thomas McCoppin, Jr. and Susan Alice Biser.  Molly had two younger brothers, John Thomas McCoppin III (born September 3, 1952; aka “Tommy”) and Emmett Ray McCoppin (Born August 13, 1956; aka “Peanut”).  Our family lived at 1307 Sholars Ave. in Orange, Texas, until Molly was about 12 years old.  Then, we moved to 1005 Orange Avenue, where Molly lived until her marriage to John Rupert Burleigh at age 19 (married May 3, 1969 at First Presbyterian Church in Orange, Texas).  Molly attended the First Presbyterian Day School, Anderson Elementary, Carr Junior High, Lutcher Stark High School, and Pinehurst Secretarial College, all in Orange Texas.  During these early years of growing up, Molly was a sweet and nurturing big sister to my brother and I.  Thank goodness I had her as a role model, especially when it came to controlling my emotions and occasional bouts with fits of anger.  I don’t recall her ever getting very angry about anything.  The only times I can recall her crying were on our first trip to the dentist (I had never heard screams like that!), and shots at the doctor’s office.  She was pretty much a chicken when it came to dentists and needles.  For my little brother and I, she was a model of love and emotional stability at a very young age.  I was particularly grateful for her when it came to school.  You see, I was a worrier.  I typically did very well in school, but I was always worried and fearful that the next grade would result in doom and misfortune.  Molly always assured me the next grade that I was facing would be fine, and that if she could do it, so could I.  Molly was also involved in teaching me an important life lesson that I will never forget.  I was pretty little, and I got mad at her for reasons I can’t recall, and socked her in the stomach.  She felt duty bound to report this misconduct to my father, whereupon he marched me outside to the back yard behind the brick bar-b-que pit (which was our special place for significant acts of corporal punishment).  As dad took off his leather belt and recited his familiar punishment preamble (“this is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you”…yeah, right), he told me you never, ever lay a hand on a girl.  And I never have, so thank you Molly Joy for your part in helping me learn that important and useful lesson.  Molly was a girl scout, a Little League Baseball Queen, and always had friends that loved her almost as much as I did.  Our mother had some mental health problems while we were growing up, and Molly was a stabilizing and healing presence in my life during those difficult times.  In short, Molly was a great sister, in good times and bad.  

Our childhood lives were pretty boring, but then John Burleigh stepped into the picture and swept Molly Joy off her feet.  All of our lives were forever changed.  Molly Joy went from being a school girl to being a bride, a mother of three, and, what now seems like a blink of the eye, a doting grandmother of six.  By the way, I just thought of something about Molly Joy that really irritates me, and I need to get it off my chest once and for all.  I really got screwed when it came to my driver’s license.  Just before I turned 14 and would have been able to get my license, they changed the law to age 16.  So, all my friends had licenses for two years before I ever got mine.  Anyway, when I finally got my license, Molly Joy  and I shared a car, a little Ford Fairlane with an even littler engine.  But it got us where we were going.  In Molly’s case, that was usually making the drag.  To make herself stand out, she attached a HUGE yellow flower to the antenna on the front of the car.  I begged her to take it off, and I begged my dad to make her take it off.  But all of my pleas fell on deaf ears, and I was forced to drive a car with a big yellow flower on it.  How embarrassing!  Anyway, I think Molly Joy secretly relished dishing out this cruel and unusual punishment upon my head … but I still love her anyway!

Back to Molly Joy, and love and marriage.  It didn’t take John Burleigh long to propose marriage to young Molly Joy, and, of course, she accepted.  The marriage was held on May 3, 1969 at First Presbyterian Church in Orange, Texas.  It was a grand affair and, although I was a junior in high school at the time, it certainly made me feel all grown up.  About the only relative who was unable to attend was our cousin Robbie Biser.  That turned out to be fortuitous, however, because two days after the wedding my maternal grandmother (Biser) wrote Robbie a seven page letter that contained an insightful description of Molly Joy’s wedding.  Here is an excerpt from the letter (beginning on page 6):

“Now, I have told you about everything but the wedding.  It was a beautiful service – perfect in every way.  The Presbyterian Church is very old.  Angels, art glass windows and everything to make the service meaningful.  Pipe organ music – a man organist in a lovely robe.  My Quaker daughter says it is as lovely as any of those she goes to see in Europe every Summer.  My Methodist son says it can’t possibly be old.  But he contradicts himself because he says nobody believes in angels now.  Everybody in our family – Christian, Presbyterian, Methodists, and Society of Friends – agreed that Molly’s pastor’s performance was perfect!  I need not elaborate on how pretty the bride was.  She looks just as she did when you last saw her.  Hasn’t gained an ounce or changed in any way.  You will be getting newspapers, and the place was alive with photographers – your father, Naaman, Aunt Meg, etc.  Of course, the groom is never important.  Molly’s best friend is married to his brother.  They were both in the wedding party.  Uncle Cooter [Molly’s dad) had told John, at the time their engagement was announced, that he met with my requirements for a man.  He said, “You don’t smoke, you don’t drink, and you measure 6 feet 2 in.  That’s all Grandma requires.” 

If you would like to read the rest of our Grandmother’s letter to our cousin Robbie, look here.  The rest of it mostly concerns observations and insights into how she got to the wedding, but it is interesting reading, especially if you are a family member.  Here are a few photos from Molly’s wonderful wedding…

Motherhood…

Molly Joy was a great mother, and, in her later years, a grandmother.  She was devoted to, and focused on, her home and her family.  She raised three sons: Johnny, Chris, and Jeremy, who would eventually give her eight grandchildren.  She was a master gardener, and had a supremely green thumb.  She loved her groves of fruit trees, but I think figs were her favorite.  I think of Molly Joy every time I look I my fig tree, which she rooted from a cutting and gave to me years ago.  She loved quilting and cooking, always looking for ways to make her gumbo just a little more authentic.  Later on, she loved working at the Presbyterian Day School, working for her friend Sharon Stanley.  She served First Presbyterian Church as an elder for many years.  She loved traveling with her family, and, after her husband John passed in 2003, to more exotic locales like Scotland and Ireland with her friends. She loved talking to her friends on the phone.  I wish I could be as committed as she was to keeping in touch with her friends and loved ones.  She relied on her faith, but did not wear it on her sleeve.  Her faith was evident in her actions, and the way she lived her life, not in hollow words or showy public displays.  Humility and goodness are two words that fit her to a “t”! 

Molly’s Last Year…

Molly’s last year with us was 2017.  As I recount the events of that year, I want you to know that my sister did not ever complain, not even once.  Not once did she ever get angry.  Not once did she ever feel sorry for herself.  Not once did she ever think of herself first.  Not once did she seem to be depressed.  Not once did she lose her faith.  What I witnessed and experienced was grace and goodness almost beyond my comprehension.  As I look back on the experiences of that year, I am embarrassed at how often I got depressed about my lovely sister’s declining health, and how often I was angry at God for her suffering, which I witnessed up close and personal.  I was pretty disgusted with God about that damn Hurricane Harvey as well.  At times, my self-pity knew no bounds.  It was not until after her death and funeral that I stepped back and came to my senses.  I realized that the opportunity to spend the last months of her life with her were truly a blessing in my life, and a labor of love that I shall cherish forever.   Now, a little more about her last year.

The Cancer…

In January of 2017, Molly Joy had a mastectomy after a diagnosis of breast cancer.  I drove over to Beaumont to be their with her.  After the surgery, the doctor came out and talked to me.  He told me that something was going on with Molly Joy besides just the breast cancer, and recommended that she follow up with her oncologist as soon as possible.  I encouraged her to go to MD Anderson in Houston after her oncologist in Beaumont didn’t really seem to have a handle on things.  So, in mid February, she went over to MD Anderson for testing.  I went and picked her up and took her to her appointment to get the test results.  The doctor said she had a cancer known as multiple myeloma, but that it was in a “smoldering phase” meaning she was asymptomatic.  He said that sometimes it can “smolder” for years, without any symptoms or severe adverse effects.  He scheduled her for an appointment in six months (late August), but told her if she started feeling bad or noticed any symptoms, she should come in for an appointment at once.  I brought Molly back to the lake for a few days, and we had a nice relaxing visit before I took her back to Orange.  During the course of the late Spring and early Summer, I talked often with Molly over the phone, and she seemed to be doing okay, so I felt no urgent cause for concern.

Hurricane Harvey

Sometime around August, 25, 2017, Hurricane Harvey hit the upper Texas Coast and decimated Orange and the surrounding areas.  Luckily, Molly was not there; she was in Conroe (visiting a cousin who was ill), and was stranded there for several weeks. Molly’s home flooded and had water in it for a long time (over two weeks, as I recall).  I loaded up my Airstream trailer with supplies and headed over there to help Molly salvage what she could and to see if we could salvage her home.  I stayed in Orange for almost a week doing what I could with Molly’s house, hauling off the ruined appliances, furniture, clothes, bedding, etc.  I lived in my trailer while Molly stayed with her son Chris and his family.  Most days, I worked by myself, and Chris would come help me in the afternoon after he got some sleep (he worked nights).  We did get some help from my brother Ray, my cousin Steve Howard, Dorothy’s brother Tom Lancaster, and my old class mate, Greg Harper.  In the end, the house was a total loss (due to mold), as was most of Molly’s belongings.  We saved what items we could and stored them in Molly’s metal building, once we got it cleaned out and dried out. 

The Storm After the Storm…

While I was working on Molly’s house, she would come over almost every day.  It was hard on her watching most of her possessions being thrown away.  She was also our expert on what to try to salvage and keep.  But I was shocked at how badly her health had declined over the summer.  Her late August appointment at MD Anderson was cancelled due to the storm, and the earliest we could get it rescheduled was 6 weeks away on October 12, 2017.  There was nothing we could do — the Texas Medical Center had been under water just like Molly’s house.  Dorothy and I had a three week trip planned for the fall.  We decided to cancel it (her mother had a stroke in August), but I needed to honor my commitment to marry Matt Johnson and his fiance Shayna on September 16, 2022 in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.  So, instead of driving as we had planned, we flew up for the wedding and flew right back.  The wedding was high up on a mountain, reached by cable car.  It began to snow during the ceremony, adding to the magic.  I returned home refreshed, and ready to help my sister confront what turned out to be a deadly cancer.  

While I was working on Molly’s house, she was staying at her son Chris’s house.  As I finished up and got ready to head home, she told me she was going to stay with her dear friend Edith Ann Coburn.  I think Molly felt like she was in the way at her son’s home.  So, before I left, I helped her move her meager belongings over to Edith Ann’s home in Orange.  I had told Molly I would be back on October 4, 2017, to take her over to MD Anderson for lab work and an MRI prior to her appointment with the doctor on October 12, 2017.  I ended up coming back much sooner than I expected.  Shortly after Dorothy and I returned from Jackson Hole and the wedding, I got a call from Edith Ann.  She was crying and very upset.  The bottom line was she was not comfortable with Molly staying with her anymore.  She was afraid Molly was going to fall and hurt herself, or even burn the house down (Molly had left something in the oven and it caught on fire).  I calmed Edith Ann down and told her I would come back to Orange and find a place for Molly to stay.  When I got back over there, I was once again shocked at how quickly Molly’s condition had deteriorated.  She looked horrible, and needed almost constant care.  So I decided I would take care of her while she battled her cancer.  It took me almost a week to find us a place to live.  So much had been damaged and destroyed by the storm, and what motel rooms were available in Orange had been booked solid by insurance companies for their adjusters, and by contractors for their workers.  We ended staying at the La Quinta in Bridge City.  It had been damaged but the upper floors were habitable.  

Having found a place to stay, I went about the business of taking care of Molly.  At her October 12th appointment, the MD Anderson oncologist informed her that her cancer was no longer “smoldering” but was rapidly getting worse.  He laid out an aggressive treatment plan that began with several weeks of oral chemotherapy followed by a planned two week stay in the hospital for a very intensive period of intravenous chemotherapy.  After that, she would need to stay close to the hospital so that she could be at the hospital every day for chemotherapy that would last at least two months.  The doctor gave us a little over two weeks to complete a long list of procedures and tests that had to be done before the first round of chemo could start.  Included in the list was dental clearance.  So I set about setting up the appointments, ordering the drugs for the first round of chemo, and setting up housing for us in Houston for after the intensive round of chemotherapy.  I won’t bore you with all the details but the next couple of weeks included three trips to the emergency room as Molly’s health continued to rapidly deteriorate.  The most frightening episode for me was an inability to stop the bleeding from a tooth extraction that the MD Anderson dentist required.  It seemed like we were making trips to MD Anderson every other day for appointments and tests.  It was exhausting for me, and, of course, even worse for my sweet sister.  On November 4, 2017, a small group of Molly’s friends came to our motel room with a cake and some balloons to celebrate Molly’s 67th birthday.  They were all shocked at her condition.  Sometime during that period of time, I asked Molly’s pastor to come talk to her.  I explained that I had asked her if she still wanted to undergo the chemotherapy, since she was barely tolerating  the preparatory tests and other things MD Anderson required of her.  She told me yes, but I was unsure if she was just saying that to please me or if that is really what she wanted to do.  So, her pastor came over and talked to her with me not present.  After about an hour talking to her, her pastor reported to me that she wanted to continue.

Just a few days later, we wound up at the emergency room at St. Elizabeth’s hospital in Beaumont in the middle of the night.  Molly was in terrible pain and basically could do nothing but lay there and moan.  While I was waiting in the hall, a doctor came and escorted me to a vacant room for a talk.  He asked me straight up, “Has anyone told you how seriously ill your sister is?”  I said, well, we are going to start the first round of chemotherapy in two days, so  I am hoping and praying she will get better.  The doctor said, “I see no way that she can do that.  I am going to admit her and her local oncologist will see her in the morning.”  The next morning, her Beaumont oncologist showed up, and, after examining Molly, took me outside and said that, in her opinion, it was time to call  hospice.  I went to the chapel and cried for a while, then got it together and called Harbor Hospice, which is who her doctor recommended.  We set up an appointment for them to meet with the family.  So late that afternoon, Chris, Megan, and I met with Molly and the hospice representative, and everyone was in agreement that hospice was what Molly needed.  I had already called Molly’s youngest son Jeremy (who lives in Michigan) a couple of times and suggested that he come down since his mom was not doing well.  So I called him again and told him that, if he wanted to see his mom before she passed away, he needed to get on the next plane.

Molly was moved to Harbor Hospice in Beaumont on November 9, 2017.  She was immediately more comfortable and able to rest.  She told me she wanted to see her baby (her youngest son Jeremy) before she left us.  That is exactly what she did.  She had a steady stream of friends and loved ones visit during her final days.  She passed away peacefully on November 16, 2017.  At the end, I was done as well.  I was exhausted, and at my low point physically, emotionally, and financially.  I had paid over $2,000 out of pocket for her first round of chemo drugs which she never got to take.  The cost of one of the drugs was eventually refunded to her estate, but I had to eat the other one, as well as the cost of our motel room, and the gas back and forth to Houston, and the emergency rooms and other incidental expenses.  I think I also paid for the dental extraction that almost caused her to bleed to death.  Thank God I had the means to do these things for my sister, because I could never repay her for the kindness and generosity of spirit she gave to me over so many years. While working on this blog post I came across a file on my computer that contained most of my notes and correspondence relating to Molly’s diagnosis and my attempts to care for her.  It also contained my notes from the eulogy I delivered at her funeral.  If you would like to see these items, look here. 

Molly’s Angels 

A number of people went above and beyond to help my sister in the last days of her life.  There were people at the hospitals, emergency rooms, in the ambulances, at the dentist offices, who were extremely kind and and comforting to my sister.  I wish I could remember all their names, but I can’t.  But two names I will never forget are the two young ladies who worked the front desk at the La Quinta where we stayed.  Mariana and Danesa helped Molly and I in so many ways.  They helped me get her out of the car and up to our room on numerous occasions.  They also didn’t kick us out of the motel when ambulances kept showing up to take her to the emergency room.  They didn’t kick us out because of the many soiled sheets and towels that were the result of Molly’s illness.  They gave me the lowest price possible for our room.  But most of all, they loved us like we were part of their family.  Their affection was genuine and uplifting.  They truly cared about me and my sister.  Since they were both struggling single parents, I wanted to do something nice for them to honor Molly’s memory.  Each Christmas after Molly’s passing, Dorothy and I drove over to Bridge City to wish them a Merry Christmas by playing the accordion and giving them each a nice cash gift.  We did this until the pandemic hit.  I should probably revive the tradition since it appears the pandemic has passed.  I love you Mariana and Danesa.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart!  

I would be remiss if I did not mention one more angel, although I don’t know her name.  During one of Molly’s stays at St. Elizabeth Hospital in Beaumont, I was sitting alone in her room, while they had taken her downstairs for some sort of test.  I was exhausted, depressed, and couldn’t have been feeling any lower, when I looked on the wall and saw a little sign that said “Need a Chaplain? Call extension XXXX”.  I called, and asked that a chaplain visit me in Molly’s room.  About thirty minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and a young lady entered the room.  I said “Hi, are you the Chaplain?”.  She replied, “No, I am the cleaning lady, BUT I KNOW GOD!”.  She came over, put her arm around me, and began praying. We had a nice long talk, and we cried, and prayed together. I felt much better.  This young lady was so kind and comforting.  She was indeed an angel!  The Chaplain never showed up.

Epilogue…

A few days before Molly passed, she said “Tommy, your hair is getting long.  I like it.  Don’t cut it, ok?”.   I told her I wouldn’t cut it, and that seemed to make her happy.  Taking care of Molly I hadn’t had time to get a haircut, so I was beginning to look pretty shaggy.  I honored my pledge to Molly for four years, and didn’t cut my hair.  When people asked about it, it gave me the opportunity to talk about my big sister, and tell them what a wonderful person she was.  But after four years, it was getting to be a real challenge for me to deal with long hair, so I cut it off.  Sorry Molly, I tried. 

I still miss my big sister, and think of her every day.  But the grieving is finally past, and now when I think of her, it is not with sadness, but with grateful joy.