Sunday, October 12, 2014

"I can hear..."

At this time 3 years ago my "hero husband" was standing (or sitting) guard over my mom during her last night here on earth. It's something I will never forget and it's probably something he will never fully understand my gratitude for.

I can remember that my dad, Margaret and I were so overcome with exhaustion but didn't want to go to bed. I can remember being curled up on the couch and my whole body crawling with that feeling of I NEED SLEEP!! Danny volunteered to sit with her while we got a few hours of sleep. Cindy had told him everything he needed to look for and that he was to text her the second things started to change.

I remember being woken up, seeing his face and knowing what it meant. I immediately went out to the living room to crawl into bed with her for the final time.

We woke up my dad and Margaret, and Cindy was there by that time.

...

I can't get these memories out of my head tonight (well, this morning) no matter how hard I try. On one hand I want to so that I can sleep. But on the other hand I don't want to because it takes me back to a time when she was still here with us, even if it was just barely.

I can hear all the music:

The Getty's (which is the soundtrack of those 5 Hospice weeks as a whole)
Elvis Presley
Leslie Gore's "It's My Party" (her favorite song)
Countless hymns
"O Crimson Flow" (which I still can hardly listen to)
And of course the video for "Dance Your Shoes Off"

I can hear the oxygen machine.

I can hear the altered breathing.

I can hear the laughter.

I can hear the saddness.

I can hear the fear.

I can hear the tears coming to the surface in my own body, but not being able to release them.

I can hear her breath slowing.

I can hear God whispering to my heart, "she's with me now."

I can hear her breath stopping.

I can hear the cries of the people who loved her the most in this world.

I can hear the news that her prayers were answered: she didn't die in the dark. The sun had officially risen.

I can hear the birds singing, which was one of her favorite sounds.

I can hear my heart breaking and the tears finally flowing because I had just lost my very best friend.


...


Even though I can still hear those things (especially on nights like this), I can also imagine her with the One she loved more than anything and the One she lived her life for. And truthfully, although it's hard at times, that fact makes up for all those other things I can still hear.

I can also hear that same One urging me into His word this morning to find comfort.


"...weeping may endure for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." 
Psalm 30:5b


"Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, 
because of your love and faithfulness."
Psalm 115:1


"They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away."
Isaiah 35:10

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