God at the Bedside and in the Boat
I spoke yesterday with one of my closest friends who talked to me about losing a friend and neighbor last week. He had been struggling with pulmonary fibrosis, a tortuous disease, for several years. It was a terrible loss for her, her wife, his wife and the couple's daughter, all of whom sat around his bedside massaging his limbs and talking to him as they withdrew supportive measures and titrated his morphine.
She told me that he smiled at them all and told them how blessed he felt to be surrounded by so many beautiful women. He talked of being at peace and believing that he was moving on to someplace where he would continue to exist without the suffering that had plagued him for so long. He left them peacefully, but all felt he remained in the room after he stopped breathing.
This man had done a remarkable thing for my friend. A year ago, she had acquired a pontoon boat as part of a camp purchase and was terrified of it. He slowly and calmly introduced her to the water. He taught her to captain the boat. He taught her to fish. He taught her to gut, filet and, finally, cook her catches. She marveled at his willingness and ability to invest so much time despite his rapidly failing health.
As he lay dying, he told her that he wanted her to have his small fishing boat. The pontoon boat, while good for a party, is not the ideal vessel to take out fishing. It is large, moves slowly and is difficult to maneuver. The fishing boat would be a new challenge which she would have to face without him, but was a wonderful gift.
With much trepidation, she went to retrieve the boat several days later. This would mean removing the boat from the water, trailering it and relaunching it near her camp. As she slowly proceeded, she sensed him there. She felt his encouragement, his love and his belief in her. And she was grateful.
While not generally a religious person, my friend feels that God was intervening on her and his behalf, allowing them some time to say goodbye again and share the thing that they both loved.
Now, it could be said that my friend's experience was a result of what she wished for. But, then again, who can say that she did not truly experience a blessed intervention.
Certainly not I.
To my dearest friend, I am so sorry for your loss and for all who are also grieving now. I hope your friend was right about where he is going and I hope he revisits you when you need his shoulder to lean on.
= new reply since forum marked as read
in a way it was hard for me to explain.
Her description of his leaving was both heartbreaking and beautiful. One can only hope to have a similar experience, whatever it is.
be fine. She's a loving and kind person who has surrounded herself with other loving and kind people.
I sense that Jesus is writing through you.
:angel:
particularly knowing how he struggled.
I sat with far too many friends who died of AIDS. Each went differently. Some were believers, others not.
And some, like Greg, had wonderfully creative things to say at the end.
