Her Last Best Friend

Think about this. Are you willing to take the chance that you may never get the opportunity to do for or say something to someone you love? Yes. I said never. This is particularly true for law enforcement and wartime military people. They face this reality everyday as they go about their lives doing what they do best. The unexpected and unforseen loss of life is devastating and heart breaking.

Who is to say that the next moment will not be your last? Who is to say that the next moment wil not be the last for the one you love? Statistically, it is not likely that this moment may be your last, but it has to be someone's last moment. It is for many and , just like that; it could be for you or I.

The reaso
I bring this up is because it is not all the time we get the chance to say, "I love you", "i'm sorry", or "Goodbye". More importantly, at any given instant we may lose the opportunity to do something for or something with the one we love. I'm here to tell you, regret is one thing you do not want to live with.

I lost my beloved wife, Marilyn, and my children lost their beloved mother. She fought a courageous fight for a year and a half, but succumed to lung cancer. Her looming death was relentlessly painful, dreadfully slow, and very very sad. We were all heartbroken. But, you know, we got the chance to "Do" for her, to love her. We loved her very much and in all the ways she needed and wanted to be loved, until she "ran out of life". Loving her had nothing to do with us being in a good mood, rested, or tired, or even sick, and we were all that throughout the ordeal. We wore the stress like heavy lead jackets everyday. But, it was all about loving her in spite of the emotional roller coaster we were always on. It was difficult to stay in the "Now", since thoughts of tests results, doctors visits, treatments, medication schedules, and the undying hope that mom would get better soon are all thoughts about the future. These thoughts were always present and inescapable. But the loving was always on, and in the "present positive tense".

It was about 5:30 in the morning when the Hospice nurse woke us up to let us know that my greatest love, my daughter's mom, was about to run out of life. She was not physically responsive.However, we believed she could hear us. My daughters and I got one last chance to tell her that we loved her and that we would miss her very much. We told her that we understood that she was running out of life and we kissed her goodbye.

The night before I had whispered in her ear that I had spoken to Amada and Bianca and explained that mom was going to die. I then told her that she could go on and that we would be OK.

I got the sense that mom held on as long as she did in the end days because she wanted to know that the girls were told of what was about to happen and that they would be OK. Like many others in similar situatations, we were conflicted with feeling very sad that mom had run out of life and that we had lost her forever, while at the same time feeling glad that she did not suffer anymore. For my beloved wife and mother of our beautiful daughters,"death had become her last best friend". She was finally free from her broken body as she slipped into the "ete
al awakening" on the other side of time, in heaven.

I remember the day before,a man visited us. To this day, I do not know who he really was. I think he was from Hospice. I believe he was a doctor, but he talked like a pastor. That afte
oon, we were in the dining room and I was sitting on the dining table while he sat on a chair. I remember that he spoke softly, but with a sincere conce
about what was going on. He seemed to be counseling me.

From where we were, we could see my beloved in the family room as she laid on a hospital bed that Hospice provided. The man said,"you see your wife there, right now she is seeing the face of God and heaven. She is seeing children at play, beautiful flower gardens, and angels." He said that she was twenty-five percent here and seventy-five percent there, in heaven. Now, who am I to disbelieve what this man told me about my wife" I don't have any knowledge that would disprove what he said. What I do believe is that in times of grief, those kinds of words comfort and console, and that's a good thing. We are human, after all, and the right words at the right time can incite the kind of emotions that helps us to cope with sickness and accept the loss of a loved one.I felt a sense of peace.After the man left, I got my girls and hugged them closely and tightly. I guess I wanted them to feel the peace I was feeling at the moment. Still, we were not peaceful, not for a long time.

A few days before mom ran out of life, I became conce
ed that her last "moment" would be on a holiday like Thanksgiving or Christmas. I did not want that to be the case. I did not want her memorial to fall on a holiday. I also did not want her to run out of life at home, even though it was what she would have wanted. As you can imagine, my thoughts and emotions were scattered and fractured. I was drunk with fear, anger, anxiety and sadness. However, somehow I was able to sober up, slow down, and realize that home is where she belonged and where she deserved to be until her last "Now". After all, it was her home too. It also occurred to me that it shouldn't matter what day she ran out of life. She would always live in our hearts and minds.

It was Tuesday, November 2, 2005; the day of mom's last "Now". It was one of those "ordinary days" I talked about. I later learned that in Mexico, November second is known as the 'day of the dead'. What a coincedence.

My beloved wife Marilyn ran out of life with grace, beauty and dignity. During the time I cared for her I made some of the right decisions and it had to have bee
God that made the others for me.I have been at peace with mom's absince ever since; so have our daughters.