Getting to . . . Alright

Today is an interesting day for me. I had a restless night, as I always do on the 24th and 25th of each month. These dates bring back more vivid remembrances of the days that changed my life forever. Somehow I found myself in the middle of a cinematic like existence and the script I was handed was not one that I felt I could own. I had hoped it was instead intended for someone else, perhaps someone I could help, or assist in connecting the fragments of “her” life. No, this could not be my walk, Lord please don’t let it be me . . . but as he would have it, it was my path to walk, yes it was my “grief to bear and, my privilege carry to the Lord in prayer.”

Today marks six months to the date of the transition of the love of my life. Those days, hours, minutes and seconds that transpired from the initial realization to his final resting place were so remarkable and eventful that I could hardly contain myself some days. My greatest joy and bridge to normalcy has been the unwavering love of my family, extended family, and well wishing friends. There is comfort in the kind words that have been shared through live phone conversations, emails, text messages, letters, cards, a warm embrace, and sometimes simply a glance that says, “Everything is going to be alright.” So here I sit pondering my path of “Getting to . . . Alright”.

Sometimes in order to know where you are going, you have to acknowledge from whence you’ve come. As best I can tell, here is how it all started. On Saturday April 24th, I knew that after having taken the nearly four hour drive from Charlotte the evening before, all I wanted to do was to sleep in on Saturday. However, when I tried to sneak back into bed after a quick trip to the bathroom, my wonderful husband of nearly 20 years, caught me in mid-stride asking, “Are you sleep?” I sort of laughed and said, “yes, why?” He then replied, about something that he wanted me to look at when I got up. I then attempted to go back to sleep, and instead threw the covers back and said, “No, let me see what you need for me to see now, and then I’ll decide if I will get up and then get back in bed later”.

What he showed me was a clear indication that a condition that he’d had previously had recurred and required medical treatment. He was not receptive to this notion of going to the hospital on Saturday morning, and instead wanted to wait until Monday when our primary physician would return to his office. After a call to the doctor, I fortunately won out, and we began to prepare for our trek downtown to the Medical University of SC. I asked our doctor about emergency transport, but Sid insisted that I drive him to the hospital myself. In hindsight, I am glad we opted for the drive because it provided yet another opportunity for us to have more time, a definite blessing that I had not yet comprehended.

Well, the preparation to get to the hospital was a process in and of itself. Those that know my husband well, can vouch for the fact that he doesn’t go anywhere, in just any attire, he had to coordinate his outfit, down to his socks and shoes. Finally in my frustration after he asked whether or not the socks matched, I forced the issue for a choice, and we headed to the hospital.

Initially, we thought this condition like before, warranted just an examination, treatment and subsequent release; however, this time it escalated into one that required him to stay for what we thought was going to be a few days.

The ER was packed, which in his opinion was representative of the status of healthcare on both the local and the national level. We’d been there for several hours when the attending physician joined us in our room to explain that he was to be admitted. Still at this point, there was not any indication this would be the beginning of the end of his physical presence in my life.

After admitting him, we spent time getting him settled in his room and took the time to plan what was needed for the brief hospital stay. After completing his list we talked, read the newspaper, then a magazine and watched a little bit of TV. The maintenance man came in to fix a light in his bathroom and nearly an hour later after he and Sid witnessed to each other about the goodness of the Lord Jesus Christ, he left with both of them feeling a real sense of accomplishment.

One of his fraternal brothers called, and prayed with us over the phone. I shared a scripture, that I received through my BlackBerry from my cousin in West Virginia, who by the way had no idea we were in the hospital. Soon thereafter, I left, it was about 7:30 pm. I remember leaving him with a warm embrace, a kiss on his forehead and gently kissing his lips with every intention of returning the next day. Despite his ill health, he showed his caring and compassion when he called me at 9:00 pm to make certain I made it home safely and to add a few more items to his list to bring the next day. Again, another moment that I had yet to comprehend would be my last conversation with him.

Exhausted from the day, I had a quick bite to eat, and was watching Saturday Night Live. The star of the movie, Precious, was hosting that night, and I had just dozed off. Shortly after midnight, I was awakened by a phone call informing me that I was to return to the hospital immediately. I suggested they had the wrong number, because I had spoken to my husband several hours before, and certainly, he was still resting in his room. The doctor quickly corrected me and insisted I return, asking if there was anyone there that could drive me to the hospital. Given there was not, I had to compose myself immediately, and begin to make my way back downtown with haste. The first thing I did was to stop to pray, and ask the Lord to be with me on my journey and to prepare me for what I would find when I got to the hospital.

This phone call started what I consider to be a downward spiral in my life. It was unimaginable, how could it be, within a three hour period, my life would be impacted in this manner. When I returned to the hospital with my sister friend who met me there, I found my loved one on life support. The attending physicians briefed me on what steps were in order to better determine his condition, and I consented. I sent a text message to my Pastor, who was on travel attending to a family member, and called my sister-in-law, and other members of our family. And began the process to wait, watch and pray.

The darkness soon transitioned to daylight and we determined the prognosis was not good; we were at a critical decision point. Through the support and care of my circle of sister friends, I went home to prepare myself for the inevitable. “Where am I?”, I asked myself, “How did I get here?” We were supposed to have waffles and his favorite crispy bacon for Saturday breakfast, and then go for our Saturday morning walk, do a few things around the house and prepare for church the next day. Instead, I was now at a moment where I had to carryout one of the most difficult decisions of my life.

Fortunately for me, we’d had this discussion before and had prepared each other for making “our” decisions. There was more legal and technical language we created in our official documents, but the bottom line was, if there was any indication from a medical standpoint that either of us could not have a quality of life or that if we were sustained by artificial means, that “we” would be left with no alternative but to carryout “our” health care directives. This is the part when it seemed like an “out of body” experience. How can you say, yes, to what seems a no-win situation?

After many phone conversations with my family members and my Pastor, I prayerfully sat with the medical team to fully comprehend “our” decision. This was the final preparation and was to be carried out as he lived his life. He deserved a dignified and spiritual transition. I gathered a small circle of available close friends, and our diaconate representatives, in my Pastor’s absence, and the hospital Chaplain. Commencing the turn of the 4:00 hour on afternoon of Sunday April 25th, we accompanied him on the last mile of his life’s journey.

How could the Chaplain have known that Sid was the “crooner” of all time? He couldn’t have, but it was the Lord that accompanied him in the room as he walked into the room, he began to sing a spiritual with his African accent it had a cadence and rhythm that was captivating. From that moment, I knew, this would be a special moment in my life. We read scripture, sang many songs and prayed him to his final resting place. I was a surreal experience. The sun shone brightly through the window, I held his hand, and caressed him when possible to get that last feeling of his physical presence. The nurses told me that I should continue to talk to him, because he could still hear me, so I took full advantage of this opportunity to speak and affirm to him that it would be alright.

At one point, it appeared that he beckoned me with his finger, and his eyes gazed upon me. Through this transition period, I felt it was a real opportunity to demonstrate the beauty of the life he lived. In the seriousness of this hour, we did have a few lighter moments. As we all encircled his bed, I said “you know he always liked being the center of attention.” Also when I began to sing one of his favorite hymns, I smiled saying, “I know he is resting with the Lord, because he didn’t say anything about me staying on key.”

God is merciful; these past few months have been indescribable. After completing arrangements for both his funeral services and the resting place for his physical remains, I am now left to manage my grief and face the day to day realities associated with his absence. He will be missed and remembered as an honest man, a wonderful husband, devoted son-in-law, an endearing brother and brother-in-law, a caring father, a doting grandfather and great grandfather, an adoring uncle, an affectionate nephew, a loving cousin, a good friend to many, a spiritual advisor and mentor, and a lover of the word of God.

Throughout this process, I have been blessed with incredible support during what I consider to be the greatest challenge of my life. Each day brings a series of "new" firsts, and each day I am getting stronger. Most people tell me, “Oh, you’re going to be alright.” Most of these people are those whom I trust and truly love, so I continue to take them at their word.

So, here I sit, six month towards “Getting to . . . Alright”, and I can truly say, there is measurable growth that I can see and feel in my walk. Some days I cannot even determine how I made it through, but that's when I feel the prayers that are being lifted for me daily. There is even a slight difference in my tone of voice. Now I can get through a conversation about Sid, and not have the meltdowns that were so prevalent in the earlier months. That is not to say these meltdowns are non-existent, however, when they do come, I am better able to handle it, and have learned not to keep them bottled up.

When Sid and I would talk about relationships that were most meaningful in our lives, our family, extended family, friends and members of our current and former church families were always at the top of that list. He was so encouraged by the potential of what could be done through bible study, prayer, and evangelism ministries. This was his primary focus throughout his spiritual journey. He took very seriously the application of Acts 1:8 “but you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be My witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth." I am so proud of his spiritual legacy, a blueprint for many to follow, enabling us to minister to the needs of our family, friends and our community to bring lost souls to Christ.

For those who took the time to accompany me on this therapeutic journey by reading this entire passage, a mere thank you doesn’t seem adequate; however, I want you to know how much I appreciate you and your presence in my life. I stand in need of so much, and prayer is the answer to all my needs, so please continue to lift me daily. With the Lord's help, your love and support, I will continue to make progress on this journey of healing.

I feel blessed by the gift of your love, and I will never take it for granted. From my heart to yours . . .

Love,

Garcia