I was visiting Hospice patients all over Tulsa County that winter. I hated getting out on sometimes slick roads and freezing temperatures. But the precious homes and dear patients and families and inviting warmth from the fireplaces or fake gas logs helped encourage me to keep driving!
The majority of my patients always had someone, or many, welcome me inside and were eager to fetch me a cup of coffee or hot chocolate. It was especially good to see a hospice patient surrounded by those who were hopeful of making a difference at the 'tail end' of their loved one's journey.
Sometimes as the end grew near, the moments would seem to grow especially long. And on this one particular visit it was as if time stood still and was weighing upon my heart as I gathered with those surrounding her in her final hours.
She was resting comfortably considering the scene before us. And as some of my patients have occasionally shared with me, "I feel like I'm between here and there", she wasn't responding but we all believed she could still hear us. One sister spoke with this conviction upon her lips, "Sis, I know you can hear me even now. I feel your spirit is just waiting for your tired little body to stop trying to keep you here. Please forgive my tears. I know you are going to your heavenly home and I wouldn't try to keep you here with my selfishness, but I'm just human and I'm heartbroken you are leaving me. But listen here, Sis, all of us are surrounding you wishing you 'travel mercies' for the sweetest arrival Heaven's gates have even known. 'Course now you know we are prejudice, but there you have it." She continued speaking softly in her sister's ear while stroking her now smooth brow with glistening beads of sweat.
Her sister-n-law had arrived the day before and had been at the bedside without words but with gentle application of lip moisturizer ointment, her sister's favorite perfumed lotion carefully rubbed on her frail skin and bony knees, elbows, heels and shoulders, and also tidying up the bedside table, bringing candy-cane colored carnations in a sweet porcelain vase to cheer the room.
Her already grieving children took turns standing near to hold her soft hands that were beginning to turn blue, carefully comb her still beautiful silky white hair, making attempts to sing her favorite hymns, and in these moments now coaxing her, giving her their permission too, to 'cross over' to join their Dad. "Mother, we will be OK. Go on now. We know Daddy is waiting nearby to escort you. He promised he would."
But I think the hardest part for me was helping this beloved patient's Mother who was still able to walk with her walker to draw near as close as she could to her daughter's side. I openly, quietly wept as I held her up as she tried to bend over and kiss her daughter's pale cheeks, "Sweetheart, Mother is here. This is Mother dear. Don't be afraid. You are going to see so many loved ones. I am so ready to go with you but God is keeping me here a mite longer. You tell everyone I'll come too before long." As I helped her to the love seat nearby I thought my heart was going to burst.
Then within just moments before she did pass, her oldest sister approached, pulled up the little wooden stool as close as she could get to the bed and with a deep breath began urging her little sister tenderly, against all common sense to most, against her true heart's desire, someone she had told us that she loved beyond words...to go. "Sister, your sweet little heart is weary beyond human comprehension. You can lay your precious body down now and rise up and take flight. We will all miss you but we truly will be OK. We know you have always wanted to take care of all of us, but we promise you, we will take care of ourselves. We will take extra good care of Mother..."
And with those last words, their loved one did take one more deep breath before finally letting go.
A granddaughter requested they all join hands and pray. This young but very mature woman beautifully called upon their God for all they needed in those moments and in the days, weeks, and months ahead. She then opened her Grandmother's worn Bible and read the underlined (with red ink) 1 Peter 1: 3-9
Every winter season when this time of year rolls around, I think of them and say to myself, "Well done family. Well done."
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