This morning I was at a hospital beside yet again. Holding hands, tears shed. Except this time it was to say farewell to a life long lived, rather than to welcome new life into the world. Two different weeks, two extreme experiences. So opposite. Yet neither any less sacred.
My step-mother's grandmother has been preparing to leave this earth for a few short days now. And today the Lord called her back to himself. I feel so blessed to have been there for that specific moment in time. To watch silently as her last exhale escaped her lifeless body. To know that her soul at that very moment stepped into the here after. Walking from one door through to the next. Eternity.
My husband spent time with her in the past two days at her request. She knew that he is a man of God..."clergy", this world calls it. In the short time he had with her, he felt compelled to ask her about her eternal destination. Her bluntness to his questions drew many a smile...it's just her nature.
"Nan [everyone calls her that], you mentioned that you used to go to church years ago...do you ever recall a time when you asked Christ into your life?"
"I sure do."
"So you know where you're going when you leave this earth?"
"Of course I do."
Enough said.
This woman held no fear in dying. No pain medication, no sedation. With her mind unaltered, she knew full well what awaited her. Eternity. There were two emotions that I took note of: eagerness to reunite with her husband in heaven, and love for those she was leaving behind. "I love you....more than you'll ever know," she repeated to each family member one by one as they approached her bedside. And once they had all been reassured of her love, it was time. All the medical apparatus was unhooked. A picture of her husband was placed on her chest, close to her heart. She was made comfortable with a dose of pain medication. And we waited. And watched.
As a young girl I had always feared death. The way it's portrayed in conversation, in media...there's always an edge of spookiness. No one ever speaks of it as a sacred, holy moment in time. Truly, that's what I found it to be. While watching her shell of a body struggle to function the only way it knew how, I couldn't help but wonder about the contents of her mind...the unseen part. What is she thinking? Does she feel panic? Remorse? Or just pure joy? Peace? We will never know. Not this side of heaven. On her very last exhale I swear the second hand on the clock stood still. Time seemed to have frozen. I knew at that moment her life had just begun anew...one that is incomparable to this one. "To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord." (II Corinthians 5) She walked through that door. Her empty shell remains with us. The family is left to mourn their losses, yet she moves on to dance for Jesus.
Holy existence. We often take it for granted. Life is all about moments. From the moment of life's first cry to life's final breath. No moment has to be mundane. Each day offers opportunities for us to catch a glimpse beyond ourselves. Beyond dirty diapers, hurt feelings, disappointments, insecurities, loss of health, loss of wealth...and the list of earthly distractions and sufferings goes on. Until we step through that door. All will cease. We will be face to face with our Creator. Holy existence will take on a whole new meaning. I love the life that God has allowed me here on earth. But in all honesty, Nan, a part of me...the eternal bound part....is envious. You're finally home where you belong.
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