2 Years Later, and....

I miss this man. I'm so preoccupied. I have so much to do; laundry, pay bills, clean up the kitchen, prepare for an early arrival to work in the morning. And yet I sit here mourning the loss of an man that has been gone two years. I'm not sure a day has gone by in the past two years that I haven't thought of him; his kindness, his encouragement to me, our long talks (mostly in the last 2 years of his life), the way he always wanted to be holding your hand when he was near. I think that is my favorite thing about being with him in the early morning of his passing...I was holding his hand. The following is my journal entry from describing his passing. It's not necessarily something one would expect to read on a blog, but yet, it's a description of the my closest encounter with God, so why wouldn't I post it? Right? So....

Grab your Kleenex and proceed with a caution:

November 30th, 2005 through December 11th, 2005

Uncle Scorch Goes Home

I'm not sure how to wrap words around the events that transpired during these days. Some things are just too detailed, too beautiful for words of any language. But, some things are never to be forgotten and so I will try to describe the events of the heart with the words of the mind and rely on the Holy Spirit to move through those that read these words.

It was a little over to weeks ago that I got the call. The call was from my dad. he and my mom had been in Minnesota for several weeks, caring for my Uncle Scorch as he suffered from the last stages of cancer. Uncle Scorch had been diagnosed with multiple Myloma nearly 9 years ago. The cancer had been attributed to Agent Orange from the early part of Vietnam. Though my uncle fought hard for 8 1/2 years, he was out of options. The doctor had told him he was no longer eligible for any treatments, due to the many medications he had been on for so long. Not only that, but Uncle Scorch's kidneys were beginning to fail. His body had had enough. He was not giving up, but his body was giving in. Our earthly bodies are feeble and only capable of so much. His body had endured far more than most.

As I answered the call from my dad, I feared the thought of hearing him say Uncle Scorch had died. Rather he stated Uncle Scorch had asked he and my mom to return him to the hospital/hospice. He had been there the week before but decided he wanted to spend his last days at home. Recognizing that my uncle's care required more than my dad could do, he agreed to take Uncle Scorch back to the hospital. He was calling to let me know that Uncle Scorch knew the time was drawing near and that it was likely a matter of days before his battle would cease. I was faced with the decision of not if, but when to travel to Minnesota. My heart ached for one more chance to see his face, to hold his hand which were always so warm, mostly with love. I was at work and debated for several hours about when I should leave. I didn't have the PTO time that would be required, but I wanted to see him again. Eventually, I made the decision, bought the ticket, and left for Minnesota early the next morning.

My mind races and my heart prayed during the flight. "Please God, allow me one more time. I want him to know I am there. I want to hold his hand as his reaches out to hold yours" The flight went smoothly and I was in Duluth, MN by 4pm. Dad came to the airport and there we were standing in the St. Mary's Hospice within the hour. Nervous and grateful, I entered the room. There lay my strong Uncle Scorch, eyes half opened, mouth agape. I held his hand....warm as usual. I told him I was there and thanked him so very much for hanging on. I told how he was the strongest weak man I ever knew and how much I had learned from him over the years. I apologized for not making more of an effort to get to see him in the earlier years and asked for a sign of forgiveness. He moaned. Though he was able to hear, he was unable to speak at this time. An occasional moan or grunt were the only sounds we were blessed to hear during his last days. In some ways, I longed to hear it simply because with every moan or grunt the raspy sound of my Uncle's voice could be heard lying beneath the pain. As the days progressed the moans and grunts began to decrease. Eventually the only sign of his hearing us were the occasional tears in his eyes or a furrowing of the brow as though he was trying to hear us over the loud thoughts in his head.

The next few days were a conflict of emotions. The happiness I would feel as I held his hand. Yet the pain I felt as I watched his body become dehydrated and frail. Uncle Scorch had opted for no life support, no feeding tubes. The only thing his frail body would accept was the steady drip of pain medications and an occasional drop of water from the sponge we placed on his lips. Within days his body began to reject even the water. This was probably the most difficult time for me, watching his lips dry up and chap. Hearing the gurgle of secretions as they filled his lungs. My dad provided the much needed comfort during this time, remind me that "his body is more dying than it is living at this point. To feed him is contradictory to what his body needs. It becomes painful for him to eat when his body is shutting down." These statements served as comfort as I fought the frustration when Uncle Scorch would no longer suction his lips around the sponge as I tried to moisten his mouth.

I read every piece of hospice literature during those days. I learned what to expect as his body began to shut down. I learned what was suspected to be going on in the mind of Uncle Scorch as he prepared to make his exit. I was comforted by the thoughts of a soulbeing prepared to meet his Maker. I was comforted by the words that he already had "one foot in the door of Heaven". I held onto his hand every chance I got. Selfishly, I wanted to be holding his hand as he reached out to grasp the hand of Jesus. I would sit by his bedside, talking to him, reading to him his favorite verse, Psalm 25, praying and crying. The tears from his eyes comforted me, knowing he knew I was there.

Throughout the next several hours, I met important people in my uncle's life. His best friends, Al and Deb, his dance buddies, Dave and Linda, his pastor and several others. It was wonderful to hear stories and meet the people whose lives were touched by my Uncle. As well as those who touches his life. During the course of the week I met Carl and Pastor Thor, both of whom were there the day my Uncle surrendered his life to the Lord. What a great story! It meant so much, especially since I had been praying for him since college.

By Friday, my sister, Jerry, Brian and Tyler had decided they were going to come up and be with Uncle Scorch. They were leaving right after work and would get there as soon as they could. We told Uncle Scorch this, knowing it would be a miracle if he was still living by the time they arrived. His body was beginning to shut down. There are several signs which occur when one's body is dying- many of which I will omit. But, it's a very specific, unpleasant sight to behold. We told Uncle Scorch that Tina, Jerry, Brian and Tyler were on their way and asked, that if he had a choice, he choose to hold on until they could see him. The next hours were grueling... you could literally hear the battle going on as he fought for one more breath. His breaths more rapid, the nurse stated she wasn't sure the rest of the family would make it in time. At 1am, Saturday morning, we received the call they were about 30 minutes away. We pressed them to hurry and and asked Uncle Scorch to "just hang on".

I'm not sure if we get to negotiate our departure time with the angles, but I am pretty certain these next 60 minutes were some of the best negotiating and hardest labor my uncle ever achieved. I was a pinball for the next hour, bouncing back and forth from the nurse's station to Uncle Scorch's bedside to the phone. In and attempt to get to the hospital quicker, Brian had suggested a shortcut, which wound them up lost. (There's a lesson in that, no doubt!) At 1:45AM, Tina, Jerry, Brian and Tyler arrived at the hospice. By this time Uncle Scorch's feet were cold, though his hand still held the warmth they always had. It was a time of great sadness and joy as we stood around the bed talking to Uncle Scorch, thanking him for holding on and telling him how much we loved him. The furrowed brow and tears let me know he heard us, despite the urges from the angels telling him to "Hurry Up, Father's calling!" With that I asked dad if he minded if I prayed. Of course, he said I could. I, holding his hand with my left, placed my right hand over his heart and said, "let us pray...." During those words my uncle lifted his head 2 inches off the bed, opened his eyes and took two large breaths. My eyes then closed , I thanked GOD for the gift he had given us through Uncle Scorch and told HIM we were ready to return the gift. Uncles Scorch died during that prayer with myself, Jerry, Tina, Brian and Dad at his bedside. Without question he would have loved to have had Kelly there, but she had called and spoken to him earlier that night and was able to say good-bye.

The next several seconds seemed like hours as I praised the Lord for my own selfish, answered prayer. I got to hold the hand of Uncle Scorch as he met the Lord face to face. My prayers of grief turned to prayers of praise as I knelt at Uncles Scorch's bedside, holding his hand. It was a bit out of character for me, but I couldn't shut up. :) I kept thanking God and telling Him how good He is. I believe whole-hearted that I was closer to God during that time than during any other time of my life. And because of that, nothing but praise was acceptable during such a time. Thought my body was hyperventilating, my face tense with tears and my heart aching due to the new void... I never sensed more peace. Another conflict of emotion I'll likely never understand ...this side of Heaven.

I know this is bit much. The longest entry yet, no doubt. I don't want to forget this moment; these moments. If you took the time to read them, thank you. For this is a moment in my life that ever-changed me. In many ways, it was a mountain top experience, one never to be matched again. In another way, it was the lowest of valleys I've ever entered. Yet another conflict of emotion. I am hopeful that since "processing through this" again tonight that I will be settled tomorrow and not feel the grief I have felt this day. Thanks again for taking the time to read.