For Gene

Last night I downloaded a few free books on my handy-dandy nook. One of them was a compilation of stories written by nurses and their experiences with dying patients. I read for a while before turning out the light. My mind, though, was a long way from shutting down. I found myself reliving a night many years ago. This one is for Papa Gene.

Gene was my step-grandpa, the man my grandma married after my grandpa passed away. I don't want to give too many details of the years that led him to his final stay in a nursing home because if I do, I'm bound to mess something up. I do know that he developed Parkinson's disease and became very forgetful and disoriented with everyday life. I remember one particular hospital visit in which he called my husband back to his bedside. I can still see one shaky, frail hand pulling Heath's head down close while the other hand pointed a very stern finger at him, You get ready, Son. Jesus is coming. That piece of advice summed up his life... even the bad times at the end. He forgot many things, but he never forgot the Lord.

On his last evening on this earth, Grandma had went home to wash her hair. She promised me she wouldn't be long and I agreed to stay with him because she was worried about leaving him alone. She surely knew his time was near. While she was gone, I sat beside his bed and read aloud from the Gideon's Bible that can be found in almost every hospital or nursing home room. I remember telling him I wished I knew what his favorite scriptures were while I read from Psalms. (Later, when Grandma would give me his Bible, I would cry when I saw those same passages of Psalm 62 underlined in pencil). He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. His eyes were clouded over and I suppose to most people, he was not seeing anything. I knew different.

I remember telling him I was jealous that he was going to see Jesus before I did. I remember telling him that I knew he was seeing something that I couldn't. I remember he stopped breathing for a brief moment.

That memory is vivid because I jumped up and went to the other side of his bed. I leaned over his bedside and pleaded with him, You cannot go until she gets back. Please, please wait on her. I wasn't so much as scared of him dying as I was of Grandma not being there. As God as my witness, the man started breathing again. I sat down in the chair again with shaky knees. I don't remember if I read more or just talked, I just know I watched the clock and watched the man I knew was standing at heaven's door.

Grandma did get back. She thanked me for staying with him and told me I needed to get home to my family. It probably took me about ten to fifteen minutes to get to my car, leave the nursing home parking lot, and drive to my mom's house to pick up the kids (only a two-year old and a five-month old baby at that point). That was enough time for Gene, though. He waited on her, but this world couldn't hold him. He made it to his heavenly mansion before I ever made it home.


Gene on my wedding day, 1993

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)