Bereavement- the ripping apart of two souls...

[domoore]

Bereavement—the ripping apart of two souls…

This is an excerpt from my own personal journal. I wrote this journal entry hours after my husband died from Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He had been hospitilized for three days-- this entry records the last couple of hours-- including his death. It contains some graphic detail- recording his death. The setting- is late afternoon- at the hospital. I had just awoke from a nap.

“When I woke, Kim was in the room and came over and said she thought she would go home. We all felt like Donald might just stick around several more days and she needed to get back to her family. I said I understood – and whatever she decided she needed to do would be best. Trudi had already left earlier and was home. Kim went around the bed to say good-bye to Donald. When she got back around to the foot of the bed she said, “He doesn’t look so good to me, Julie. I think I will stay.” I then looked and took note. Kim was right. He didn’t look very well at all. His color was ashen again, laboring to breathe, and his breathing pattern was more irregular than before and slowing. 7:10 P.M.
“You had better call your mom,” I had told Kim. “I think this is going to be it.”
We began to gather in around the bed. Rebecca was in the room then, Kim, and my mom. Jason came in and out of the doorway. He was aware Trudi was on her way and he would wait at the main entrance doors of the hospital to meet her when she pulled up. Donald had quite a time. It was very clear he was actively in labor to die to this world and be birthed into heaven. What a process! I shall never forget any of this. My sister Jane showed up shortly into this process and I told her to come in and say goodbye.
We sat, staring, watching for the moment. Holding his hands, stroking his arms, shoulders, head. Weeping. He would breathe short, shallow breaths, irregular…. slow… slower… then nothing. I would watch his pulse at the carotid artery on his neck. Strong, steady, beat, beat, … beat…….beat…. much weaker… nothing beat….. and then nothing. I put my ear to his heart… it sounded like he was gone… Then it would start all over again. He would draw breath… beat, beat, beat, … breath…. beat, beat, beat….strong and steady pulse. Fairly regular breaths… shallow… gasping breaths. A tear gathering in the corner of each eye. Eyes open- rolling sometimes working to focus on something… nothing we could see though. Eyes fixed in the corner of the room. Then rolling again. Shut. Breathing slower, slower… …. …. stops. A single tear trickling down his cheek. Pupils dilate, then draw back to small beads as if to focus and to look around the room. Heart beat… beat… beat………beat… weaker… slower… nothing. At about 7:30 he coughed up clear fluid through his mouth and nose. Disturbing to say the least… but part of the process. I cleaned him the best I could and then told Rebecca Pop was dying … almost home to heaven and she needed to go with Uncle Jason. I wasn’t certain if it would get any worse than that—but I didn’t want her remembering her Pop that way either. We were still waiting for Trudi. This process continued for almost a full hour. My mom picked up the handy Gideon Bible and read various Scriptures marked, including the 23rd Psalm. As she read, my sister Jane pointed out how calm Donald was while listening to the Scriptures. It was true, he was calm. It was a calm and peaceful… peace-filled passing. At 8:10 PM, Donald went home with Jesus. There was no question when it occurred. He was gone. The Bible says, in 2 Corinthians chapter 5, verse 8:
8We are confident, yes, well pleased rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.

It was obvious he was gone. He was with the Lord. Praise God! I was excited! We all thought out loud about what Donald was doing! Who was he meeting? HE could ‘breathe’!!! He was alive in Heaven. He could run, move and do so much!!! He would be getting a banquet—me McDonalds- and even then I didn’t eat! Only his body was left behind… and that did not look like him. Only slightly did it resemble him. It was a hollow, empty shell where he had lived for 40 years.

I don’t know how long it took until Trudi arrived… perhaps minutes or even 10 or fifteen. I remember her coming in and sobbing, extremely grieved that he was gone. She went to the bed and laid down hugging the body and then back to Kim hugging and leaning on her. I knew I would be no comfort to her… so we left the room for their privacy. I believe that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I am not sure how else to explain the events that followed moments later. I will do the best I can.

When I left the hospital room I spoke briefly with nurses in the hall. They confirm by two witnesses the death of a person. The first nurse had been in and had removed the instruments protruding from Donald’s port in his chest. He had received the entire unit of blood just before he passed on. The first nurse also confirmed his death at that time. I met the second nurse in the hall and explained that it might be better to wait a few minutes to allow his mother to grieve and then recheck for pulse. The nursing staff and team were just precious. She was happy to wait and asked me to come get her when it was a better time. I talked with Jason as well as a few other family members in the hall. Then I decided I had better go to the restroom. I hadn’t gone after my nap and I needed to go! I wasn’t about to leave my husband’s side while he was laboring and being birthed into Heaven and the presence of Jesus. He had been present for the labor and birth of all 5 of our children. I knew this man as I have known no other. I was going to be there for him in his physical death.

As I stepped away- the most wonderful thing happened. In that instant—half of me sloughed off. It was a smooth, tangible, open cavity. It was a very real, physical sensation- my other half- literally—HALF-- had left me in that moment. I do not dare to begin to understand what took place -- but it did happen. As I felt that part of him so closely knit to my heart and me- leave, the presence of the Holy Spirit slipped in and filled the void, the opening, the cavity. I wasn’t empty- but I had fresh awareness that my soul mate and companion, best friend, lover and husband, father of my children—was gone from me. I would never have that kind of a relationship with him again. (Scripture makes it clear- we are not married nor given in marriage in Heaven.) I also had a very clear and real presence of the Holy Spirit filling that void. It was different—but it was very good and sweet. God placed that peace that surpasses understanding in my heart. I had comfort, I was loved, being held together, and lifted up by the Lord. I knew where my husband was and I had great peace, joy and happiness about it. I felt lighter, the burden had lifted, and the weight of uncertainty and the counterbalance of trusting and obeying had in one moment been crushed and were no longer needed in regard to Donald’s failing health condition. God is sovereign!

In that moment of blissful, peace, reassurance, and comfort, I felt lighter, and joyful. I could feel in a very real, physical sense the precious spirit of God filling that void. I could also feel what I might describe as butterflies inside… although that too is not all together accurate. I feel so limited by words. The openness and vulnerability I might have experienced otherwise as a non-believer was a very real, fresh wound being bound over by the Holy Ghost. He was protecting me from the harsh, penetrating reality of my loss. I knew Donald was gone from me. That part of me --bound to him-- that part, which had become one flesh some 12 years ago had died in a moment and left me open bare and exposed. Thanks be to God for covering over and binding me up! There have been only a few moments in my life when I can remember hearing God in an audible to me only voice. Mostly I hear Him in his Word and by the prompting of the Holy Spirit living in me. In that defining moment, the spoken thought from God entered my mind, “The marriage covenant is complete.”

Wow. What else can be said? I pondered that for some time after. We did complete our covenant. To have and to hold (we had lots of that), in sickness and in health (we had both sickness and health), for richer or poorer (mostly poorer! I would have liked to have tried the richer!), till death do us part. The marriage covenant is complete.

I went down to the waiting room and told the kids to sit down. I told them that their father had passed on and was with Jesus. They only shed a few tears as I spoke with them. I told them that we would go to see Pop’s body but that he would not look the same to them. He would look different. He was with Jesus- so his body was empty. When we got down to the room, Trudi was still there. She sat with the kids and told a few stories from when Pop was a baby. Truman said to me, “Mom, our prayers have been answered! God healed Pop right out of his body.” It was true. Our prayers were answered! Oh- how good to be taught by a 9 year old!

As the kids left, Trudi wondered what we were going to do next. I explained that I wanted to clean his body and then rub oils on him. I invited his mother and sister to parti****te as they felt led, but I would take care of all of the intimate and personal details of my husband. They both were happy to help and I joked with Kim about her being a Lutheran, married to a Catholic, washing a Baptist’s feet! I told her that she would have to convert for the time being to properly wash Donald’s feet! Trudi helped clean Donald’s face, head, and the right side of his body, including the fingernails on the right hand. She told of when he was a baby and took special care of his ears. I took care of the left side of his body, closest to his heart, including the fingernails on the left hand. I also had them help me roll him onto his side so I could clean under him. We maintained his modesty as well as his privacy at all times. It was a precious, sweet time of fellowship. When my mom and I went to San Diego to go to the Gerson Institute training, Donald’s mom and sister came to Fort Worth and helped care for him. During that weekend they had put oils on him and helped him with other personal tasks.

As we finished, we cleaned the room and packed up all of our belongings. I put 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 on the nurse’s white board in his hospital room. I was keenly aware of many months ago when I was grieving over all that was happening. I remember it was late at night and I could not reconcile myself to rest and sleep. I was crying, bitterly weeping at times. I left the warm bed- Donald sleeping- and went and dressed. I put on a jacket and walked the Seminary. It was a cold, beautiful night in February. I wept bitterly. Tears staining my face and wetting the jacket I wore. I was heart broken over the losses. My husband was failing then and I knew it. I remember praying to the Lord- in vicious repetitions- “Lord, do not waste this! Lord, do not waste this! You gave him this calling! You gave him this desire to learn! Lord, You planted the gift of reading, learning and understanding in him! Do not waste this!!!” I do not know how long I prayed that prayer. I do not remember how many times I walked around the campus—each time being 1 mile. I know that night God went more than the second mile with me. I remember as I prayed, God speaking to my heart. “Julia, I won’t waste this. But you might.” Oh- how my heart within me failed. I could waste the opportunities God had given me. In fact, I knew I already had! Grief poured over the walls of my soul as I recognized that God had a much bigger thing going on than either Donald or I or even our family. He was not going to waste any of Donald’s training. He would not waste Donald’s suffering. He would not waste our tears or our grief. God was and is faithful. As I stood there in Donald’s hospital room, I knew I had an opportunity. God would not waste my life, Donald’s life, our life together,—but I could certainly miss an opportunity to serve. I might waste it.

Fresh awareness of the lost souls in the hospital came over me. I prayed for them. I prayed for the nurses. I asked God for a special blessing for that floor where Donald had been struggling for life only a few hours earlier. I asked God to touch hearts through our struggle. I asked God to bring revival to hardened hearts. PLEASE, Father God, consume me. Use me up in this process for You. Pour me out. Don’t let me miss an opportunity You give me. I wrote on the white board. I prayed in my heart. God will do the rest.
The kids came back in and helped some with the oils and continued to hug, kiss and touch their Pop. He was getting cold and that seemed strange to them. They really have never experienced death at all. It is very difficult to understand. I can not say I even begin to understand.

Hours afterward…

I spent a few extra moments with Donald alone. I needed that privacy to say my final good-byes. I then looked around the room. I left the bathroom door open and light on. I took one last look at Donald. He looked better. He was released from his prison. He was in Heaven. I left a bowl of his favorite hard candy on the shelf by the white board. He didn’t need it and I knew the nurses might appreciate it. I opened the door and stepped from the room. I closed the door and when I did- I realized how strong the odor from the oils was. I felt badly for a minute- fearing the well being of the other patients. I did what I felt like I needed to do though. The blessing of the oils was for us. Those still living. Donald never knew that I had that in my heart to do. It was my last gift of love and service to my husband and I do not regret it. Instead, I prayed that the patients on the floor would be more sedated and peaceful that night. I prayed God would impart His tangible presence in that place so that others might come to a saving knowledge and join us with Jesus some day.

I wish I could more accurately convey my heart on this. It was the most beautiful, bitter- sweet moment in my marriage. I had peace, joy and comfort from God above."

Now, 18 months out-- I can say with certainty- that indeed I have walked the the valley of Death's parting shadow. It has been a tremendous loss. But- never without hope. It has been difficult-- but never without God's presence. I know intimately what it means to be "bereaved."

Blessings-
domoore

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