Horrible Honor

The intensive care room was particularly dark as I entered to find two ladies, teary eyed, sniffling, barely holding things together. A small sign of relief shown on their faces as I entered. "Perhaps he is someone to lean on, because I can barely stand." I hope I can be a leaning post.

Their dearly loved father and husband lies motionless save the occasional rising and lowering of the chest as each breath comes a little farther apart. "It won't be long now..." says his wife in perhaps the most pitiful and vulnerable moment of her life.

We stood together, watching the monitor screen, holding daddy's and hubby's hands, praying silently, breaking inside, saying very little, waiting for the moment when both peace and pain would arrive.

There was no observable, punctiliar moment when this man passed from life through death into what comes next. Rather, he percievably faded away like the the sun going down during the summer when it becomes dark but you never really know how it got that way. His life passed like a ship sailing out to sea becoming smaller and smaller until it's no longer visible but not out of sight either.

It's a horrible feeling sometimes, to be in a room with tangible grief, painful emotions so thick I can feel it weighing on my shoulders. I can only hope to grieve with them, carrying on my shoulders, which may be just a little bit stronger, some of their hurt so these two can find the strength to say goodbye. But it's an honor to be able to stand in such a sacred moment as an intimate stranger while they stare into my eyes looking for hope.


I hope to never forget these moments, as I know I will never be forgetten. I hope to let these moments change me, affect who I am and develop in me a deeper sense of compassion. Death is horribly difficult for most people; I can only hope to honor that pain by standing with them in the mire and murky space between this life and the next.