The past two days have been a blur. Mary's grandfather was moved home from the hospital. He'd opted for hospice care. The prognosis for health wasn't good. And Wednesday night, things slid downhill quickly. Mary and I were there at his bedside, with a lot of other family, watching him take difficult breaths -- sad that he would be leaving us but glad that he was going to a place so much better than here. We prayed together as a family that God would be there with us in that time.
The hospice worker's name was Judy. She came in at about 9 p.m. with an enormous cup of pop and intent on being there all night. But she was so friendly and caring to both the family and Doyle. She cried as the family cried. I offered her a prayer before we went home for the night, and she gladly accepted.
Doyle died at about 8:45 a.m. Thursday morning.
We spent the evening with Mary's family, working up some biographical information for the funeral. On the way home, we were so tired -- physically and emotionally. But I decided this project can't stop. I know where Doyle is now. Don't we all want to get there, too, and bring as many people along with us as possible?
So we did the only thing we could at that point: Go to Sonic. I was hungry anyway. The carhop looked at me strangely for a moment, but she said I could pray for her. It was a good moment in the middle of a difficult time.
No comments:
Post a Comment