At this time 6 months ago, I was sitting on our old green couch.
Adam was sitting to my right, my best friend J was sitting to my left.
She was in my arms.
The hospice nurse had arrived a few minutes earlier and had confirmed, it was time.
The medicine wasn’t easing her symptoms of labored breathing anymore. It was time to let her go home.
Adam had put on some worship music, playing on his phone, as we took in every last bit of her. I remember not wanting to blink and quickly trying to clear the tears away from my eyes so my vision of her wouldn’t be blurred. We told her how proud of her we were and how much we loved her. And told her she would be home with Jesus soon.
It’s 10:40am now. The time she got to see Jesus and be wrapped up in His arms. The time she was free of her broken body. The time my heart broke, again.
I haven’t stopped to remember during the time in a while. I think I’ve kept myself busy subconsciously, but today I came at a stand still where I wasn’t sure what to do next. And, I noticed the time.
I think Jesus brought me here to this place in time to remember on purpose today. I don’t really know why? They’re really hard memories. And sometimes I feel mad at God that I have to live with this kind of a memory. But, I find some comfort in that -like I mentioned before-it’s agony He knows. He watched his child take his last breath too.
It’s 10:46am now. J reminded me to hold her my favorite way. So I lifted her body up to my chest and let her head fall on my shoulder one last time. It didn’t feel the same though.
I can’t wait to hold her that way again.
I don’t remember how much time had passed, but next they came to take her body away. This part was excruciating. My whole body was weak when I handed her to Adam to give to the strange man in the black suit. J held me up. It felt like someone had cut out my heart and given it away to a stranger. I know that sounds dramatic, but it was dramatic. I think its moments like this that word was made for.
I might regret posting this one day, or maybe in a week, or an hour, or a minute. We’ll see. I resisted coming here for a good 20 minutes as I was watching the clock tick closer to 10:40. But, I thought I could cry alone with my memories or I could cry and make something from my pain this morning.
May it never ever be wasted.
6 months closer to you, Brooklyn Bear.