Dwindling Hours

July 28, 2008

There he sat in his hospital bed, sort of bent over, staring down like an old cowboy who had been shot in the back. He knew who we were but he had no strength to sit up straight. However, he wanted to sit up. He was as pale as the spirit he was to become. His shaggy eyebrows seemed to cover what he felt. He tried so hard to lift his head and make eye contact, but instead his head hovered and could not rise to make eye contact. I walked through the crowded room with too many bright lights and too many people crowding around. Everyone wanted to bring comfort to the dying. His hair was uncombed; there were big round flat perfect circles on his head and body. They were pooching out, looking like inverted moon circles. He was dying from the enemy (leukemia). He had fought it until he couldn’t win. It grew bigger within him than WILL, the power that he thought would save him. The shining light had gone from his pupils. I leaned down to speak. What to say! There was nothing to say. I said, “How’s my boyfriend?” “Alright”, I heard him say. He asked about the man, meaning Chick. I told him he was doing pretty good but has a cold and can’t come see him. He said to me “Hang in there”. I answered that we were hanging in. I asked if he felt like going to Steak Kountry and he said, “I’m not hungry, but I’ll go with you and watch you eat”. I rubbed his head. Linda was sitting there on the floor holding his hand. She cautioned me not to touch the crown of his head (it was covered with the reminders that the enemy was here to take his life - - lumps) and I rubbed his forehead, as I always did for my children to soothe them, rubbing softly back and forth while I silently prayed for him as well. He said the motion felt good. Shortly afterwards, I moved away from him, the room was filling up with more relatives.

Frances and I went out the door to talk. She said he is angry because he is dying and he is taking it out on the closest one to him - - her! Why do husbands use us as their anger posts? I guess they feel we can handle it and who else can they take it out on? Frances was big enough to understand and to handle it. She knows Charles and SHE KNOWS he does not want to leave her. I told her we have been married to our spouses so long we are like old comfortable chairs to one another. We can be who we are with those we have lived with for so long; they know we’ll take them back no matter how they treat us, they relax in the arms of our unconditional love.

Now I pray that God will let Charles return home to Princeton to die as he wishes so he can wind up the financial end of his and Frances’ lives to make life a little easier for his soon to be new widow. God hold him up that long! Let him die surrounded with his family and friends. The old cowboy will join his heavenly family soon and we’ll not be that far behind him. We’re only a breathe away from Heaven.