Come right on in … relatives greet with hugs as they scoot around the perimeter of the living room. Three generations spread out to share a sofa, two chairs, and some barstools surrounding the hospital bed that consumes the space. Mechanized oxygen gasps and spurts in the background … loud but strangely calming … like the rhythmic white noise of ocean waves.
And there she lies. Frail and fragile … her depleted frame unable to support the internal battle much longer. Indigo eyes sparkle as her sweet smile speaks love and joy even before her feeble voice has a chance to welcome us in.
Pillows gird her on every side while layers of blankets guard her from the chill. A bruised and bony hand emerges from the warmth and reaches for a touch.
We take turns greeting her, holding her hand, and stroking the soft tufts of hair that have somehow survived the brutal blend of disease and medication. We say how much we love her and we swoon over how fancy she looks with her zebra print pillow case.
"I'm all right. I am good. I'm going to be good. I'm ready." She comforts us.
Peaceful. Happy even. Incredibly brave and humble. She has made her decision to give up the fight in order to claim her victory. There is freedom in hope.
As we settle in to separate conversations, she drifts in and out of sleep, but she still listens. Even with her eyes closed, she smiles at the jokes and nods in enjoyment.
We linger in the togetherness. Some munch on burgers and chips, others chat about houseplans and fishing. Everyone takes a turn sitting face to face with her.
Girls who couldn't make the trip show up on a video call. "HI, Granny! I love you." Tears flow on every side of the phone as sad sentences are choked out with laughter and love.
It's late, and it feels equally bothersome to go as it does to stay.
The grandson who lives across the highway whispers to his mom, "I'm tired. Is it ok if I go?" She nods approval and encourages him to say his goodbyes and run quickly to arrive safely.
He circles the room trading hugs for "I love you" and then he is gone. Foreshadows of days to come follow him into the night.
Soon, Granny will say in her spirit, "I'm tired, is it OK if I go?" Family and friends will draw near to usher her gently with truthful hope and demonstrative care …
And just before daybreak she'll see Him waiting for her as she arrives. Face to face with the Source of her strength and salvation, she'll be wholly healed. No more pain. No more tears. No more death nor sadness.
Only Light and Love saying, "Come right on in!"
John 14:3 | Rev 21:1-4 | Ps 27:1
