My friend, role-model, and father passed away early this morning a little after midnight. His fight was over and he was ready. He sat up one last time as if to say, “It’s my time. I’m coming home.”
The house seemed empty today when we returned from all the breathless running around one does after a loved one takes their final breath. Even though he hasn’t been home in a few weeks it seemed he had just left the house. Keys, hats, computers, movies, his chair all still in their proper place. It seems this is still his house, his home. But…it’s not. Sure, there are memories and experiences. A lifetime of highs and lows to relive for the rest of our time on this shadow side of eternity but he has moved and left a forwarding address.
I sit in the quietude with his presence still lingering. I think about all of the rough days he’s had over the last 8 months, the noises of the machines which were keeping him alive. After we received the phone call we drove over to the hospice house to say our; “Goodbyes.” The room was so still. No beeping, whirring, pumping, dripping, nurses checking in. It was motionless and the silence was deafening. My mother began to fill the atmosphere with soft cries, and soft words to her best friend and lover of the last 40 years. My brother and I standing in the background, witnesses to a heart affair which is rare in this world. Finally, after a few more kisses from her on his hands and cheek, we left all thankful we’d never see that room again and that he had moved on to his permanent address.
And now, we are left to carry on. To occupy a house which isn’t home without him. To learn to adjust to a new normal we didn’t choose. To loosen our grip on this world, this place, because we know home is waiting for us on the other side.
Last Second –
Beth and I lost a dear friend yesterday in a car accident. She was 91 years old. She was pulling out of a gas station parking lot and didn’t see an oncoming vehicle. In a moment she was gone leaving behind a wonderful legacy of grace, kindness, and love.
I received the news last night about 8:30PM and I’ve thought about her all day. I’ve reflected upon the sweetness of her spirit, her genuine laugh, and contagious smile. I’ve thought about the violent way she left this world, not at all like the gentleness with which she carried herself.
I first met her in 2008. She was leading a weekly prayer group. She was 82 years old but still had a quick mind and a body, worn down by its eighty-plus years, but she wouldn’t let it stop her. We became quick friends and as I looked at pictures of her today I was reminded all the wonderful things I liked about her.
I can’t help but wonder, as I think of the crash which took her life if she ever saw the vehicle which hit her? Did she react or was there no time in the split-second before impact?
I also wonder, how many of us truly recognize that every next moment, second could be our last?