The Last Breath

 I'm exhausted. The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind, yet paradoxically unfolding in slo-mo. Will is under round-the-clock hospice care now. They do not expect him to live past the weekend. It happened so suddenly. One day, very weak, yet still talking and even cracking a joke. The following day, going comatose. Our son had to carry him from a chair to the bedroom. Some of Will's last words to his son were his concern that he not hurt his back carrying him. True Will. Always looking out for others first. He lost consciousness and has not regained it. Twenty-four hours have passed and he shows no sign of anything but the slow descent into death. 

Tuesday, while he was still able to talk, I asked him what his favorite bible verse was. He struggled to think and I suggested he not try to come up with the address, but tell me the gist of it and I'd find it. His face brightened and he said, "Do unto others..." (Luke 6:31). I fought tears because it was the perfect verse to sum up his life. Will has always lived by the "Golden Rule." 

From his time in Vietnam taking care of his buddies, his integrity as a jeweler always careful to give his best work for an honest fee, to his days working with the unhoused men, addicts, and mentally ill while employed at a rescue mission. He cared for them. They weren't scary or smelly they were children of God made in his image and Will treated them with kindness, dignity, and compassion, judging none. He knew most of them by name and would greet them on the streets. His final service to God and people was the years he filled the pulpit at St. Matthew Presbyterian Church, ministering to an aging church. He was loved back just as he loved them. 

His life was full of far-flung experiences. Though he received hard knocks and lived through broken relationships, and difficult circumstances, he held fast to faith in a loving Lord and knew his service was not in vain, but in a sure reward. In his 60s, armed with only a GED, he earned a bachelor's degree in Human Services, completing his life's focus. 

When he breathes his last, he will be received with the words: "Well done good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of the Lord." And I will be forced to cling to the knowledge of his reward and joy knowing I'm left behind to do life without him. I'm hurting because the time is close that he will be taken away from the bed we have shared for nearly 37 years. His frail body will be cremated and his ashes buried in a VA National Cemetery with military honors. I will give the flag to our son who also served in the Army. 

People have been coming over to the house to say goodbye to him. I know they need to. I've been assured the last thing to go is the hearing, so he's hearing how loved he truly is. I have spent time telling him I've always loved him. But I've also given him permission to let go and go to the light. That we will be okay. I want no regrets. I want him to go in pure peace on his way to see his Lord's face. 

My heart is breaking. My son's heart is breaking. Yet we have agreed to be strong for each other. The time of private grief will come. Then the work of living without him will begin. The ache will always be there, but gradually better memories than the prior few years of decline from Alzheimer's will make it more bearable. 

Life continues and it will be up to me what I write in the book of my life as I go forward. I pray I, too, will be remembered as one who did unto others what I would want done to me. I cannot think of a better legacy to honor my husband and our Lord.