Death is a strange thing. I've never experienced it in a personal way until this morning when I woke up holding my cell phone in my hand staring at it wondering why my dad was calling me from his cell phone when he was just upstairs. I almost put it down and ignored him because it was Saturday and 7 am and I wasn't supposed to get up to leave with mom until 10. But the next thing I knew I was talking to him as he was telling me that he and mom were already in Lincoln at the hospital because my mom's sister Marilynn who has been sick for a while was not going to make it and I needed to wake my sister up and get in the car.
We got to the hospital and after an almost comical encounter with the nearly deaf but very nice and very old volunteer receptionist, Bekka and I made our way up to the third floor critical care unit. We stepped off the elevator and walked past a nurses station where I overheard a nurse saying "it's just so hard to watch everyone gather to say goodbye." I knew what she meant. I felt bad for a big group of people waiting in the hallway outside someone's room. They were all in tears, and my heart broke for them. As I neared, my eye caught my brother's and I understood. As he wrapped his arms around me the tears fell. This group of people crying in the hallway was my family. Friends and relatives of my aunt's. They were waiting outside Marilynn's room because she really was dying. As I hugged the man who had to say goodbye to his wife for a very long time, I wanted to turn around and walk away.
I walked in and gave my mom a big hug, then hugged my cousin Lisa, whose sense of humor has never failed to make the entire family laugh while she can keep a straight face. Today, there was pain in here eyes. As my other cousin, Lindsey, walked up crying I wrapped my arms around her and held tight, for she and I used to be very close. We spent summers together at camp and weeks at each others' houses. As we grew older we grew apart, and I only see her briefly at family gatherings such as Thanksgiving and Christmas usually. But my heart still holds a special place for this woman.
The only thing that brought a smile to anyone's faces was my niece, Kendyl. A 10 month old bundle of innocence and joy that healed each and every one of our broken hearts, one giggle at a time.
The room cleared out except for her husband and daughters as they were given a final chance to say goodbye before the doctors shut off the ventilator. Then everyone else was given a chance, and I stood in the hallway and watched as my 87 year old grandfather, who was a preacher and one of the most amazing men I've ever met, stood by Marilynn's bedside alone, holding her hand. It was a strange picture to me, and my heart melted as I realized that Marilynn got to see Jesus today. She got to experience heaven for real this afternoon. When they pulled the curtain shut and I heard the machines being shut off, I had to smile weakly through my tears because I wondered what it would be like to walk into your true home and meet the creator of the universe. She met her true Father. I wanted so desperately to tell her to say hello to Jesus for me.
I decided that if I am ever lying in a hospital bed with friends and family around waiting for me to die, I truly hope they are singing praises, because I will be so glad to leave this earth as my heart so longs for the place I was created to be. The fellowship I was created to have with the Father God.
Ours were selfish tears. Tears that said we will miss Marilynn dearly. But our tears had hope. Hope of the promise of eternal life.
