Today is the 5th anniversary of our Tim-o-tee's death. He died on 11/3 at 3:11. Which is kind of weird and spooky if you want to look at it that way, or you might want to say to yourself, that it seems kind of deliberate. And careful. I'm going with the latter. Anyway, 5 years have slipped away since he laid in our family room, in his hospice bed, under a blue quilt made by his sisters, and smiled and reached toward heaven with his beautiful beautiful hands. He was in the presence of his mother and his daughter, women he loved most dearly. And it's true. He really did smile and reach.I was happy for him that day, because even though I was in the other room talking with the hospice nurse during the reaching and smiling part, I was with him for his last breath. I was happy for him, because he was ready to go, and he was tired of his broken body. He was a person who loved moving, was always anxious for the next step. His broken down body was holding him back, and he was annoyed with it. I remember the room being filled with joy after his last breath was taken. It was undeniable.
However, before that, before the joy, as I sat near his side holding on to his hand, I remember noting how the process of dying was so parallel to the process of birthing. There's impatience. There's suffering. There's drama. There's loneliness, the knowing that it's you and you alone that has to get the job done. There's knowing that what is happening is of vital importance. Birth and Death? Very Big Deals. There's the beginning of a new life when it all is finally over. And there's the joy. Joy for the one moving on, the one about to experience all the luscious brand new things. And there's joy for the people with arms outstretched, waiting for and welcoming that new life into their realm
As I reflect on it all, and as I watch Tim's daughter prepare for the birth of her son this week, I am grateful for the parallel. It settles me. I love things that are beautifully designed, things that fit together so well that when you finally notice them they make you catch your breath a little and then you feel a little surge of pleasure rush through you.
The parallel explains to me, without words, just how carefully our earth life was designed and crafted. There is nothing haphazard here. And there's comfort in that idea for me. Comfort in God doing that for me. For us. Comfort when there's impatience. Comfort when there's suffering. Comfort when there's drama. Comfort when there's loneliness. And an explanation for the joy. The precious joy that I look forward to this week, and the joy that I'll feel in the future, when I will be the one welcomed.
It can make so much sense, you know?
And I love it when things make sense.
12 comments:
sorry there's not a better word to use, but that was really beautiful. and true.
thanks for sharing, mommacita.
Tears in my eyes, mommacita. Beautiful, lovely, and I am so happy that Leigh's baby will be born this week to add a brilliant new chapter to your family's story! I know Tim will be there with you all and rejoicing at his new grandson!
We thought of Tim all day...and you! Thanks for the great post. I love your perspective of things. This one was especially beautiful. And we can't wait for that first Garlock cousin!
Jen
That was one of the most beautiful entries EVER for a wonderful man - gone too soon. Among all your attributes, talents, humor and beauty you are one special lady with a heart overflowing with tenderness and understanding. My life is blessed for knowing you. ... now pass the kleenex!
I also thought of our dear Timmy boy this day; being one of the sisters who helped him become the man who loved you so well, dear Mary. Your words so beautifully written brought great JOY to me and know absolutely, the truths of the eternites. Thank you for being my sister!!!!
Amen, seesters!
mary, i think this is the best thing you have written on here. i'm so glad you wrote about this and shared it. what a wonderful thing that leigh's baby will be born so close to this time.
How beautiful. It took me over five minutes to read that because I was crying so hard. And crying in a good way: pregnant and emotional way.
It's strange because I've been thinking the same thing right now with some other family stuff going on - the amazing closeness of birth and death.
I'll be thinking about you this week - your family is so lucky to have you!
What a sweet post. I soaked in every word. I've heard much about your sweet Tim-o-tee, who I can tell was and still is loved deeply by everyone who knew him. You are an amazing example and I can't wait to see this little grandson of yours.
I had a hard time getting through that one. Nothing I will say will come out right, so I'm just going to go with this:
LOVE.
This was beautifully written - thank you for sharing something so close to your heart. It is amazing to take notice of all the little things that had to come together to make life possible. It certainly did not happen by chance. Even when we leave this life, we go on to so much more. Enjoy that new baby!
Mary, that was beautiful and inspiring and of course so simple but easy to miss. Amazing how the most basic things can be so unclear at times. I also like to think that Heavenly Father watches over us in the smallest of ways and our loved ones do as well. You seem to have handled such a difficult thing with such strength from the very beginning. Perhaps that is the result of a completely wonderful marriage that we know is still holding you two together.
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