Just Thinking…..
I have watched people die: my nephew, my mother in law, my father, my mother. No two deaths are the same, and none that I have witnessed had the theatrics seen in movies.
My nephew had cystic fibrosis. The disease attacked his body in different ways, but the most serious in my opinion was his ability to breathe. He reached a point where very quickly he had to be put on a ventilator while waiting for a lung transplant. His condition went downhill rapidly and a short time later, we were told that there was no chance. He was taken off the vent, but never regained consciousness. Family was gathered around him and we watched his few labored breaths, watched his fingers grow gray. We sang a hymn, closed our eyes for prayer, and he was gone.
When my mother in law died, a nurse introduced herself to me as Diana. I told her that was my name, too. She said that she was not usually on this floor, but was put on special duty here that night. Mom Parson’s breaths grew more shallow, she never regained consciousness, and then the monitor showed a flat line. Diana the nurse put her arm around me, asked if Mom Parson was a Christian. She helped me in so many ways thru that night. When the paperwork was finished and we were ready to leave the hospital, the hospital asked us if we had any commendations to pass on to the staff for a job well done
“Yes,” I replied. “The nurse, Diana, was so comforting.”
“No,” said the official, puzzled. “We had no nurse named Diana on that floor.”
“She told me she was on special duty…….” and then it struck me. I had just been in the presence of an angel. Family was not with me that night…. But I am convinced that God cared so much that He sent me the nurse Diana.
When my father died, he was in hospice. He had steadily faded both physically and mentally. By the end he was calling me “Teacher” and was seeing what we could not see. He had become so weak. I whispered into his ear: “Dad, we are all here. We’ll take care of Mom. You’ve fought the good fight…. run the good race. When it’s time to go….. go in peace.”
We gathered, sang:
“Turn you eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace
Through death into life everlasting
He passed, and we follow Him there
Over us sin no more hath dominion
For more than conquerors we are.”
Then we prayed….. and he was gone.
One year ago today, my mother died. She was trying so hard to reach her 90th birthday on March 16, but we could tell that it was going to be touch and go. On March 12, she rallied in that Hospice room. She smiled, blew kisses, wiggled her fingers at us. She had a little banana and a little ice cream….. some favorite foods….. and this was after several days of not eating. The doctor talked to us in the hall, saying that this was common…. and that he didn’t think she would last 24 more hours. He was right. Mom did not wake up the next morning. A massage therapist came in and gently massaged her, bringing comfort to her weary body. In the afternoon, I began to sing to her:
“You are my king…. Jesus, You are my king
I’m forgiven because You were forsaken
I’m accepted, You were condemned
I’m alive and well
Your spirit is within me
Because You died and rose again
Amazing love how can it be?
that You my king would die for me
Amazing love I know its true
its my joy to honor You
in all I do, I honor You.”
The rest of the family had gone down the hall to eat. Mom’s breathing started to change, and I called the family to come back FAST. She gave three short bursts of breath, and that was the end.
The next few days were a blur for many different reasons. When my mother in law died, I gave a short eulogy. When my father died, I spoke of some things in his life. But when my mother died, I could not speak. I had witnessed all these deaths of people who were so important to me. But this one was different. I was now an orphan.
I knew that with her death came the end of stability and tradition and memories. Family structure would never be the same. The old ways would never be repeated. All of the memories and stories of my parents were gone. It’s been hard.
I’ve struggled this past year….mostly OK….. holding on to the promises of my faith that if one believes Jesus died and rose again, that that person is saved for eternity. My parents both professed that faith. I have professed that faith, and I know that I will see them again in the presence of God in heaven. It gives me comfort.
But I was caretaker of my parents’ personal possessions. For about five years, I protected these things in my basement, keeping it climate controlled, seeing that the exterminator kept insects away, making sure that nothing was lost to mold. I didn’t touch the items until after Mom died. And then …… cleaning them, sorting them, trying to identify pictures and objects, arranging for items that no one wanted to be given to charity, helping my sibs choose what they wanted…… it was hours upon days of work. As I handled each paper, each picture, each object, I began to understand my parents as young lovers, as parents and grandparents. I began to understand their dreams and frustrations. And I wanted so much to sit down with them again and ask all the questions.
This year has shown me the impermanence of everything….. relationships, family, memories, life itself. The great truth is that the only thing that remains is God. This year has been painful, and I find that I cry out to God for wisdom and understanding like never before.
One year ago today……… oh! I am caught in the flux of wanting to go back to when everything was good and we were young…. and being in the here and now….. and being in heaven myself. My mind swirls with emotion. I want to kiss my mom and dad one more time. One. More. Time.
O Father God!!!! Take me as I am. Help me to sort the memories and cling to the good. Help me carry on when it looks as if all around me is falling apart. Show me the way!!!!
To God be the Glory,
bug
Right Here..... Right Now.... Glory Be! 