Faithful to the End

She's ready to go Home. You can see it in her eyes, although they don't work like they used to. She couldn't see us when we went to visit her last Thursday, but the minute she heard Bob's voice her face lit up and she said she was glad we came.

I stroked her arm while she whispered her words to me. She told me her father was waiting to come, but he was being blocked. She repeated it again. I asked her if she could see him. She said she had not seen him yet. But she knew he was wanting to come to her.

The first time she said it I thought she was confused. She's 98 and her heart is failing. They've said there is nothing else they can do for her.

The second time she said it, I was certain she was not confused. And I was pretty certain that she was talking about her Father, not her father.

Seventeen years ago I watched my father pass from this earth, holding his arm along with my mom, sister and two brothers. I still maintain it was the worst and the best week I have ever spent with my family. The last week of his life we all camped out at their house and took turns taking care of him. When one of us turned weak, another was strong. I remember one entire day just tuning out, watching movies in the other room. Everyone else took over and by the time night rolled around, I was strong again and stayed up with him all night, letting the others take a rest.

Dad had never been one of those fathers who knew how to express emotions to his kids. I don't remember him ever telling me he loved me until I was 32 years old and he was dying. It was just a couple weeks before that when I went to hug him that he had hugged me back. It just wasn't his way.

But the last week of his life all of that fell away. He repeated over and over how much he loved us and punctuating it with "always will" over and over until he would drift off to sleep.

So that night I stayed up with him, he was whispering to me. I could barely hear him, so I leaned in closer when he said, "so you can hear me." I leaned my head to his and I said, "I can hear you Dad." Then he didn't speak, he just leaned over and kissed my cheek. It was the second time he had done that. The previous day when he kissed my cheek, my mother cried, "Oh, he kissed her." I sat there for a few seconds then I had to run from the room because I knew I could not keep from seriously breaking down. A few minutes later my brother Mike came to check on me and made me laugh when he said that after I left he had said, "Poor Rita, she had ducky lips." You know, the kind where you are trying your hardest to keep from crying and can't. It was funny, we laughed. It was a welcome laugh, we had quite a few laughs and tears that week.

But the most amazing thing was when he would talk about the other people in the room. Many times he would look over to a wall or up to the ceiling and move his mouth as if he was talking. He told us that Kenneth was there. There had been two Kenneths in his life, his brother and his best friend who had married my mom's twin sister. Both of them had died several years before.

Another time he said his mother was there and he also said that God was talking to him. I have no doubt that he was straddling the wall between this world and the next one.

So last Thursday when we went to see "Great Grandma" I wanted to hear what she had to say. From Dad's death I have learned that death can actually have some beauty. I know that sounds weird, but it's amazing to talk with someone who sees another world.

Great Grandma is technically not related to me. I met her 18 years ago when Bob and I were first married. She is my husband's ex-wife's grandmother. Over the years we were invited to various family events and over the years I had come to love "Great Grandma and Grandpa" as if they were my own. Their granddaughter, Bob's ex, has not only accepted that relationship, but encourages it. She had asked us to visit her, knowing it would not only mean alot to us, but to Great Grandma too.

We lost Great Grandpa a year and a half ago at age 99. They had been married nearly 79 years. He was a sweet man who always had a joke. When he was 98 and was needing a pacemaker, the doctor at the hospital asked how he was feeling. He said, "Well, you know, they say the first 100 years are the hardest."

Great Grandma told me Thursday that she still had her faith. I didn't doubt that. She said that when she was little, the Lord promised her she would see Him come back in a cloud and call her up to heaven. And she was still waiting, she said she believed He would keep his promise. I knew what she meant, she believes that she would be alive when Jesus returns for the faithful. So she was holding on, waiting for that to happen. She knew it would be soon. She wondered why it hadn't happened yet. I told her that He did not feel it was time yet.

And I believe her. But I wondered if she might believe He was referring to the rapture and He was actually just talking about her time to be called up, just like my own dad was. In either case, I know where this wonderful lady will end up. She'll join her husband in paradise. Of that I have no doubt.

I took the picture below at their 75th wedding anniversary. That's my grandson, their great-great grandson with them.

I'm so grateful that I was allowed to become part of their family. I will miss them both. When we got ready to leave her on Thursday, Bob told her we loved her. She said, "I know you do." I'm glad she knows.