It was 1992 and I was visiting patients and their families all over the county. I particularly enjoyed visiting these two cuties!
They were a team by every definition of the word. All day, every day, meal time, laundry days, housework days, yard work...side by side! Inseparable, that is until now.
Six months ago the doctors only allowed him to return home because he insisted, "But you won't last two weeks," they warned.
"Well that's two weeks at home instead of here. I want to look outside my window, not yours. I want to eat or choose not to eat my wife's cooking, not yours. We don't have 'no visitors' signs at our home. And the air smells better at our home. And my pets can sleep on my bed with me! No offense to you docs and I thank you that you've been kind enough to tell me the truth. There's more opportunity for alone time for me and Marie at our house," Henry said.
Who else but his beloved Marie would refine his constant bedside care into an art form? Together they learned and performed the necessary tasks at hand. They knew more, much more than I did in this specialty and rarely did they need me. But let me assure you that I was tickled pink when they asked me to come see them.
Oh my! They made me feel like a royal guest! They demonstrated such gratitude for any instruction or suggestion or advice.
And all was well, for a while.
More than once a loved one would remind him that he had promised long ago to outlive every one of them. He was living it up way past the two weeks the doctors had predicted. Neighbors and family were making a steady stream through that back screen door carrying in food, flowers, stories, laughter and total respect when it came time to let them both rest. There were more prayers prayed in that tiny house than I'd ever heard before. He was so tolerant of so many needing to tell him what he meant to them.
"Don't you think this is better than folk waiting till I'm gone to come over here, Becki? It's kind of like a pre-funeral. And I get to be here for it!
Funny thing is, I was still a bit surprised when that last call came. How long did I think he could continue to stay with us?
"Will you come over now Becki?"
Of course I would! But I could not find my professional face. My tears were blinding me as I drove in the twilight hours to be with them. Wasn't I thankful that his silent suffering would end? Wasn't I thankful he would be seeing Jesus soon?"
I did not know how I would speak intelligent or professional words for choking back grief's grasp on my throat! Grief for whom? For him? Well, yes and no.
How could I grieve with the sight of peace on his face and knowing they'd had God's gift of six more precious months, knowing his silent suffering was now forever done?
No, it was more for her! The faithful one I'd witnessed so valiantly, so eagerly, so lovingly, so tirelessly, give it all she had and then some more day after day to be the best nurse he'd ever had, the best wife, the best friend.
You see, he not only made me feel special, he made everyone feel that way.
Over and over these patients reminded me. What do we want to be remembered for? A major contribution to your town? Inventing a cure for a disease? Solving world hunger? Having the highest SAT score on record?
No?
Better yet, that we may be remembered as my friend was. Someone who loved God and loved his neighbors as himself.
Someone who made everyone feel special.
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