Waiting on Death
There has been so much talk of discrimination here of late. I do realize that it’s not just starting. This hot button topic has been in all forms of media since way back when. Discrimination usually applies to the difference between races, sexes, gender, really anything that separates one group of people from another. There is one worldly situation in which there is no discrimination; death. Death does not care who you are, how much money you make, what you look like, how old you are, or if you are successful. The end of a life can come in so many ways. It can be quick or slow, expected or totally by surprise. Our view of death is based on what we have been taught, the path of knowledge we travel trying to find answers that support what we have been taught, our faith in an Almighty God or lack thereof. In my “about me” section, I clearly stated that I am a Christian. It is a huge comfort to know that I have a place in Heaven. While I may suffer things here on Earth, I fully believe that there will be a brand new body for me, upon my passing from this life to the next.
My daughter and I chat freely about death. We have no qualms about it. Death is a certainty for all people. It is coming for each of us and it is my belief that life and death begin at the time of conception. Having someone know my wishes is important because I don’t want my loved ones having to make those decisions when my life expires. My husband will not discuss death with me, other than to interject that HE will be going before me, therefore he doesn’t need to know my wishes or hers.
This topic is circling round and round in my head because my mother is very ill. She is certain her life is going to end by morning. As I write this post, all the noises in the room are amplified. There is the bubbling humidified oxygen, gurgling away as it sends moisturized air into her lungs. A machine that checks her vital signs buzzes and clicks as it does the job it’s created for. Another hiss of air comes from the suction canister. She has her suction piece in her hands, in case she begins to cough, needing to clean her mouth. Her rhythmic, super shallow respirations are hard to detect in the darkness of this room. I find myself hesitant to turn the lights out, just in case. Tonight, I will mute the TV, leaving it on so the glow illuminates her chest. So many sounds when someone is fighting for life or fighting to give it up. Her life has taken a drastic turn within the past 3 years. Once my father passed away, she became very lonely. Mother was never the type to just up and go to the doctor for anything. I think she was having symptoms that led right to this very moment. These symptoms were all mistaken for something else, something less. Now, if she makes it through this current hospital stay, we still have many, many other problems that need attention.
However,we are not meant to know the plans that are laid out for us. What I do know is this: God doesn’t take us out of this life just because we want to go. He is not a magician. He is the Great Physician. God is not dead. He is very much alive. He is all around this room and permeates the very air we breathe. His love is a quilt of calm amid the angry noises of machines. Our thoughts become whispers, which become prayers. Prayers that have no words but somehow reach through the darkness and find God’s ear. I’m beginning to believe that, sometimes, words get in the way of what our heart needs The Almighty to hear.