Departure

When the telephone rang late last evening, we were shocked to hear our dear friend of 35 years explain that the doctor had ordered hospice care for his wife.  According to the medical prognosis, she was expected to live several days, or possibly up to a week. She’d been battling cancer and severe chemo side-effects since June, but her condition was now degenerating swiftly.

Early this morning we jumped in the car and headed for the Old Home Town.  Three hours later we joined this couple - longstanding devoted friends - in an intensive care hospital room where morphine’s laws ruled. Other close friends soon joined us.  Our eyes held each other close.  We hugged repeatedly, our souls and bodies glued by decades of shared history and faith.

The hours swept by. She slipped into the arms of her Lord an hour and a half after we left the hospital. 

I will hold dear the oceanic depths displayed on her daughter’s face, the soft sorrow on her husband’s.  I will treasure our last-minute good-bye, and the fact that for five short seconds her eyes opened and she spoke a few slurred words of recognition.  I will cherish the intimate moment when another girlfriend and I clasped fingers on the top of her head and prayed over her, thanking God for the love and commitment we’ve shared over the years. 

I will remember.  I will miss her. And I will give glory to God for all things, especially His mercy and grace as she transitions from one life to the next.