This morning, last year, I was standing by my husband’s bedside in OHSU, watching him struggle
to breathe. He wanted Southern Gospel music, so these are the songs I played for him on the ipad, that last morning:
I glanced up and saw my BIL Kerry standing at the
threshold of the doorway to Bob’s room. He said he had slept in his truck in
the parking garage. I said I was thankful he was with us, and that he could
have slept in the room with me – it would have been more comfortable, I was
thinking. Kerry came into the room and sat in a chair opposite where I
stood.
My legs were tired from standing so long, so I went
to my padded chair in the corner, under the window … the chair I had been
sleeping in off and on since Bob was moved from ICU/ER Ward a few days ago.
We both watched Bob.
Suddenly, something changed in Bob’s breathing,
AND I KNEW he would breathe no more, this side of Heaven.
I remember watching Bob breathe his last earthly
breath out, and my head swiveling to where Kerry sat, and seeing Kerry suddenly
jerk forward – back straight; eyes fixed on his big brother’s form. I
said, “I think he’s gone, Kerry.”
I got up and walked over to the bed, and put my
hands on both sides of my husband’s face; turning his face to me. There was no
response. I looked at Kerry; and said again, “I think he’s gone, Kerry.”
Then my eyes lifted to the clock on
the wall: 8:05 AM.
I was bumped from Wife to Widow on December 14th,
2018, at 8:05 AM.
It was startling. It felt surreal.
At that point, a nurse walked past the room’s
open doorway and saw me standing by Bob’s bedside. What she saw on my face must
have alerted her, because she came into the room and took Bob’s vitals … and
gave me a pitying look. Then she went out of the room and across the hall to
the Nurse’s Station.
Dr’s. Gilbert and Morgan soon appeared. Dr.
Morgan came to stand beside me for moral support, and Dr. Gilbert asked me, “Are
you alright?” I said, “Yes, I am okay. Death does not frighten us. I asked
that I would be granted grace and strength to let Bob go, and Elohei answered
my prayers; Bob is in Heaven now. I do not mourn because I know where my
husband is – and I know I will be with him again, some day. And I know, that
right now, his spirit is enjoying a new body that will never again fail him;
and I know he is having the time of his life with Yeshua, the Life Giver.”
She said, “You are a remarkable woman.” I said, “We serve a remarkable God.
Thank you both for everything you have done for us while we have been here at
OHSU: thank you for taking such good care of Bob. We both appreciated it.”
Dr. Morgan squeezed my arm, and then they were gone … and the same nurse that called
them came back into the room to inform me that a doctor would be in shortly to
announce the time of death. I said, “the time of death was 8:05 AM” –
and she said, “A doctor has to make the pronouncement, and the time will be
when that pronouncement is made.” I just looked at her.
When she left, I said to Kerry, “The time Bob’s
spirit left Earth was 8:05 AM; that is the time I will tell everyone, when they
ask.” He agreed.
I called family members & intimate friends, and
told them, “Bob’s spirit left his earthen vessel at 8:05 this morning. It was
peaceful. It was easy. And it was dignified.”
A doctor arrived about 20 minutes later, and made
the “official” pronouncement, and told me someone would be arriving shortly {to
go over details} with me. In about half an hour, a nervous young woman arrived
to ask me what I wanted “to do with” the body – organ harvesting? I said, “no
– my husband was not a young man, and he was critically ill … and our Faith
does not make allowances for that – there will be no organ harvesting.” She
asked about disposal (she used politically correct terminology, but that is
what she was asking), and I said, “My husband wanted to be cremated; I
will make arrangements for that when I get home later today.” She wrapped
up her rehearsed speech and left. I was thankful the questioning was over – for
her, for me, and for Kerry … who could hear what was being said. Obviously, she
was new to the necessities of bereavement fallout, and Kerry and I were
grieving the loss of a loved one in our lives moving forward. We needed space.
Getting ready to leave OHSU and head home, I
dragged a chair over to the bedside and stood on it: I am a small person, and
the bedside was high – the railing came up to my chest when I stood next to the
bed: I needed the chair, so I could stand on it and lean over the bed railing
to kiss Bob’s lips and tell him I loved him and was glad he had been in my life
for most of my life. I caressed his bald head, the side of his face, touched
his lips with my fingertips, ran my fingertips across his chest and a down his
arm to the end of his long fingers. So MANY memories! A lifetime ended. Love
with nowhere to go anymore. A life tilted, with me wondering if it would ever
be righted again …
And then, I gathered my laptop & ipad off the
window sill, and packed it into the duffel alongside the padded chair in the corner,
under the window. I zipped the duffel closed, pulled out the wheeled handle,
gathered my coat, and walked out the door – glancing back just one more time at
the manly form I had loved since I was 10 years old: the manly form that had
housed such a vibrant life for 69 years, and loved me like a man for 44 years.
Kerry loaded my duffel into the back of his truck
and drove me home. We chatted periodically, but basically; it was a very subdued
drive back home. My car had been parked at Bob’s sister Merry’s house, so that
is where Kerry took me. When we got to Merry’s, Bob’s mother and sisters were
all there & we talked, and after a while I said, “I need to get to the
funeral home to make arrangements, but I don’t think I should be driving, as
emotional as I am. And, I think I’d like to be alone over the Holiday – I think
I can get through this better if I don’t have to deal with people for awhile.”
No one questioned my need for solitude: they heard that I needed space. Bonnie
agreed to drive me to Steele’s Memorial Chapel (the local funeral home): and
she was a tremendous help in helping me make arrangements there … and for
helping me order Bob’s Cremains Box and Remembrance Urns for the kids &
grandkids. The fellas at the funeral home were very kind and efficient – they said
they would contact OHSU themselves, and that way I would not have to do that. I
thanked them. After the arrangements for Bob was made, papers signed, and
monies paid … I went ahead and took care of my future arrangements also:
that way it is done, and the kids do not have to deal with it later on,
down the road. Then, Bonnie drove me home; and we talked a little more about
Bob and how he influenced and impacted our lives. When Bonnie was ready to go back to Merry's, Merry came and got her.
Bob was a good man. Bob was a loved man.
This morning, last year, somewhere around 1 PM, I was suddenly all alone. Facing an unknown
and uncertain future. Alone. “We” had now morphed into “Me” … and it was a
weird reality. My life, as I had known it for most of my life, had been
undone – and there was no way to go back to that life.
I knew Bob’s mother was
hurting – but I just couldn’t deal with her emotions when I was dealing with my
own. I knew Merry, Bonnie, Rosie, and Kerry were hurting too – but I needed to
focus on me right then, in the moment. I knew our kids were hurting – but I just
couldn’t go there yet: I needed time for me to adjust to the loss of my
husband, the loss of love, and the need for peace. I knew my grandkids were
hurting … and our little grandson was confused … but I had to trust that their parents
would help them get through it – I just couldn’t. I hoped everyone could
understand my decision to separate myself and come to grips with how severely
my life had changed. I didn’t care that I was being selfish – I NEEDED
TO BE SELFISH at that time. The only person who ever loved me, who ever cared
about me, was gone. There was only me now, who cared about me. I had to be
selfish, or I would fly apart and never be whole again.
Mike and Cheryl called sometime around nightfall.
And just listened to me cry. For at least half an hour. No words were said by
anyone. They are good people. They became my Tribe this day, last year –
they became my Family, this day, last year.
And so, this morning, this year, I am
reflecting on this day, last year, and crying some … not a waterfall
like last year, but just slow tears. I am no longer gasping for breath either.
But my chest does hurt a little where my amputated heart continues to beat with
a halting pulsating tempo that sends out the message: “I miss Bob … I miss Bob …”
This morning, this year, I am thankful for friends who loved me and stuck with me – friends I
wasn’t even aware I had, until they silently came alongside me; lifted me up,
and helped me learn to live again. I am blessed.
This morning, this year, I am thankful for my BIL Kerry, who has become a brother to me and
has helped me every month for the past 12 months – doing things for me that
need doing with a man’s strength, and showing me how to do things on my own
with the strength I have. Kerry is a good man, a kind man, a compassionate man.
When I told him that recently, he credits those qualities to Bob’s influence in
his life. I am blessed to have Kerry in my life. I was blessed to have Bob in
my life.
This morning, this year, I am thankful for my SIL Merry. She has helped me several times
over the course of these past 12 months. I am appreciative. I have been
blessed.
And this day, this year … same as this day, last
year, falls on the Sabbath day of Rest: the PREFECT TIMING on Elohim’s part. What
a blessed memory!
I am truly blessed.
