Lingering

If I had been able to script a deathbed experience, I would have wanted to read Scripture, tell my dad I love him, pass on others' greetings, sing hymns to him accompanied by my guitar, and hold his hand.

God gave us all of that yesterday.

A friend was here with me when I sang to him, and I looked at her with sheer wonder in my eyes as it became so apparent that he was singing along. There was no sound, but his mouth moved, and at times his arms and hands. When I stopped, he stopped. When I started, he started. It was powerful.

*We* sang It is Well with My Soul, Amazing Grace, and What a Friend We Have in Jesus.

I have my laptop here, including thousands of songs on I-tunes. I could find comfort in a lot of the contemporary praise songs right now, but it's all about Gib, so I searched for the word "hymn" and hit play. I'm not sure where all those songs came from, but we had hours of GREAT homegoing music. Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling, We're Marching to Zion, The Wonderful Grace of Jesus, and on and on and on. I was buoyed up, and content. He held my hand, and slipped into a totally restful state.

I read parts from Revelation - the parts about our awesome God and about heaven. I read John 14. I prayed with him, I cried with him (he didn't know...didn't want to make him sad) I talked to him...and a lot of the time we just listened to the hymns.

Then I broke my rule and played the whole Messiah. [I love it so much that I make myself save it for Thanksgiving through New Years] I told him that personally I thought it would be cool to exit during the Hallelujah Chorus, but he wasn't ready. Likely he did not want to ruin it for me for future listening. He's so thoughtful.

Another friend brought me dinner, and we laughed as we imagined me being here for weeks and months instead of hours. Gib is SUCH a fighter. I told the nurse this is my fourth time at his death bed. I'm not kidding. And this time I know it's THE time, but you know...I still can't quite grasp that.

At 9 pm, with my husband firmly planted at Gib's side, and a friend supervising the two of them (smile) I ran home for a much needed shower. I really thought he might fly Home while I was gone, and I told him that I was leaving for an hour. But he waited.

At 10:30 I just had to sleep. I'm so exhausted that I knew I needed real sleep and not recliner kinda sleep, so I kissed his hot forehead and went to my cot. I knew I could not monitor his breathing, but that I would know if he were in distress. I was just 5 feet away.

At 5 am I awoke to his steady breathing. So steady, in fact, that it sent me into new sobs. It's like he's just taking a good long nap. I have not seen pain and suffering for well over 24 hours. When he was leaving pain and suffering, I could deal with that. But now...now he is just so peaceful and it seems so sad that life is seeping from him. But I must remember the congestive heart failure, the gaping open 12 inch incision, the infected blood, the infected fistula through which he receives his life giving dialysis. There were SO many fights to fight, and now, instead of fighting, he is resting.

My brother, who is a surgeon and had the hardest time of any of us agreeing to comfort care (doctors are used to never giving up...) just wrote to me:
Dear Grace, Dad's peace is an answer to our prayers. You are witnessing what happens when someone is completely in God's hands. Love, Sam.

My favorite nurse just came on duty. That in itself gives me comfort. I am going to leave him in her expert care and make a dash to Starbucks. I've got some work ahead of me - ushering a dear saint to heaven.

Psalm 116:15 Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of His godly ones.