Feb 23 - The Day The Healing Began

God's definition of healing can look so different than what we might imagine, ask or hope for. And yet, He knows best. We headed to work on Thursday morning phones in hand, waiting for any update from Jon's step-mom. The morning was quiet, until I got a text from Husband: "They're putting him in hospice. This is the end." I think its funny how you aren't aware of your internal organs until they feel as if they've dropped to your toes. I called him and encouraged him to leave work, let someone take his shift, and for him to head to the hospital. He did so, but he stopped at home first. He told me of his overwhelming sadness, of dissolving into tears on our bed and just wanting to take a nap after his good cry. My heart literally ached. I would miss my father-in-law, but my heart mourned more for the pain that my best friend was now going through. My lover. I wished that I could take it all away from him. I wished that I had the words to fix what I knew was beyond repair. And yet, I know my God heals.

My husband and his siblings didn't have perfect relationships with their father. A divorce, hard feelings, regrets and silence built a wedge between them over time, but slowly in recent years, they had begun building a bridge back to each other. Things were hard, but there was love. And in these moments, I knew that all of their hearts would be hurting not just for the death of their father, but for the death of what could've been. For what should've been. Regret is a painful pill to swallow. This is why I rejoiced when my dear spouse told me that he had spent the day talking with his father. He apologized for all that was heavy on his heart, and his dad understood. Though Wes's body was failing, healing was still taking place in that hospital room. Past hurts were being put to death, and the peace was taking over.

I came to the hospital as soon as I was able, and found the family gathered around Wes, still in the ICU. The room seemed so quiet without all the machines, and Wes was resting as we waited for a transfer to the hospice area of the hospital. We soon made our way to a much warmer, more comfortable room in the hospice wing. The rules are much more lax here, so everyone got to crowd in, and we continued the story-telling, the laughter and the "being". My husband remarked that its unusual to hear so much laughter in a place that revolves around death, but I think that's exactly how it should be. It saddens me, though, to know that it took this type of situation to bring us all, biologically and maritally linked as we are, together in one room. Better late than never was never so true a statement.

The visitors included myself, Jon, Jon's sister Katie, her husband Chris, their baby Adelle, Jon's little brother Taylor, their mom Tracy, Wes's wife Terry, her son Steven and her daughter Kerry, and of course, Wes's guardian, his granddaughter Mosey. Wes was alert and responsive, and he acknowledged all of us. He was always a man of few words, but even more so since his stroke. He has a way of speaking with his eyes, though. The nurse knew good and well that he didn't care for the taste of his medicine, and she laughed with us at his expressiveness. Even still, he was able to tell Jon that he loved him. Those words will remain precious in our minds, I think.Watching my husband care for his father - giving him a drink, fixing his blankets, cleaning his mouth, and even feeding him a french fry - spoke volumes to my heart about the man I married. All I can say is thank God.

We stayed for a couple of hours, until sleep started to to set in. Family trickled out, each of stopping to tell him that we would see him tomorrow. Jon and his brother lingered, saying their goodbyes again and adding more "I love you"s. As we walked to the car, Jon told me that though he will miss his father, he felt surprisingly at peace, and counted it as only the grace of God. He said over and over how thankful he was for the day they had spent together. For the stories he heard for the first time and the ones he loved to hear repeated, for the honest talks and abundant tears, for the blessing of knowing his father heard and understood. I'm thankful too, my love. More than you know.

Highlights:
1) I have a new found appreciation for hospice nurses. I'm convinced they are a special breed, and I appreciate their willingness to take on such a calling.

2) I have an even deeper appreciation for my step-mother-in-law. What a woman! To remain so devoted to her ailing husband, to care with such selflessness...I almost have no words. She is a rarity in this day and age and we are immensely grateful for her and all she has done in Wes's life.

3) Neighborhood Grill in Fort Worth: these people deserve an award, not only for their amazing food, but for the kindness we receive every time we walk in the door. I know they must get a ton of hospital traffic and I hope they know that their smiles (and food) are such a blessing to those who cross their paths.

Love & Long Goodbyes,
K