Death is a mystery. It seems to be avoided at all costs. Yet, everyone dies. It is hard to understand, yet we know it is coming. It hurts when a loved one passes on, but we rejoice that they may be in a better place. When it comes unexpectedly we question why.
I want to share with you the experiences and impact that seven deaths have had upon me. For those reading this, you may have been close to one or more of these people. I hope not to offend anyone with my words, and my experience may be a bit different than yours. Please bear with me. Since it details each of these experiences, it is a bit longer of an article, but still shorter than a book. :)
My intent in writing this blog article - as the blog is titled - is that I'm "Being Real." Perhaps it will bring healing. Perhaps it will bring understanding. Perhaps it may speak to you. Perhaps you have your own experiences with death and this may bring commonality and understanding. It is a very painful, heart-wretching part of life, and instead of avoiding thoughts and discussions concerning the topic, I'd rather us all be whole.
Pastor Markese - In the mid-nineties, Karen and I had a sort of spiritual awakening. Our spirits came alive with a fresh love and passion for Jesus. We quickly surrounded ourselves with others that were like-minded. A pastor of a church across town was leading his church family into the same full-fledged desire for more of God. Karen and I often would visit this church. Pastor Markese was all-out running after God. This was having a huge impact upon his church and the region. And then he got cancer. He fought it. Thousands of people prayed for him. Yet, he passed away. It didn't make sense. Not at the height of what was happening. So many people had been radically changed. So many people getting saved. So much zeal for The Lord. His life was cut short. We didn't feel like his life was over. So we continued to pray. This may seem weird for some, but the Bible is full of miracles, including numerous people raised from the dead. We, along with others, prayed nearly every waking moment for the days leading up to and including his funeral. We prayed with great faith. I stared at his lifeless chest, expecting it to begin to move. At the funeral, we continued to believe. But it didn't happen. Why? I don't know. We fasted, prayed, and had faith. It was very disappointing. It devasted the church and nothing was ever the same. A very difficult time for many, but we continued to trust and love God.
Shabu - Some co-leaders in our church were missionaries in India. Their son, Shabu, was in his early 20s, just recently married, and was at a church picnic by a lake in Oklahoma. Some girls fell into the water, and he jumped in to save them. He saved them, but in the process, he died. Far too young, life full of promise and destiny. He left his wonderful parents who had seen thousands of miracles and people saved through their internation ministry. As a church we prayed. They sent his body back to Oregon, and right there in the church, for 17 days we prayed for him to be raised from the dead. Hundreds, thousands of prayers by people all over the world. Great faith. We contended, pounding on heaven's door. For some, this sounds nearly insane, but we need not be bound by the limitations of this world. We serve a God of miracles... of the impossible. But it was not to be. We have seen God do other miracles and wonderful things, but Shabu passed on.
My dad - My dad lived a long and healthy life. He was a godly man, an elder in the church, always serving, a hard worker. He worked for a construction company and had built a house for his boss at Black Butte Resort in the mountains near Sisters, Oregon. It was a beautiful house. His boss let us stay at the house a few times a year. Literally having been there probably 50 times, it seemed like our family vacation home. In his last couple years, my dad's health began to wane. As family, we took another trip to "our vacation home." During our stay, my dad began to feel very weak. We all gathered around his chair. We prayed for peace. He looked around at us and told us he loved us. Then he said, "They are coming." His eyes grew wider with joy. And he passed into eternity. He saw the angels coming for him. In our vacation home, surrounded by family, we had the priviledge of seeing him slide to the other side of the veil. Sure we were sad, but we also got to experience something glorious.
Emmalee - Two and a half years ago, I had the priviledge of performing a wedding ceremony for my niece Emmalee and Andy. Emmalee was a wonderful niece, and I always enjoyed talking and spending time with her. Her family lived several hours away, so we didn't get to spend as much time together as hoped for, but we enjoyed the time we did have. She was dearly loved by all the extended family, and her parents and three brothers adored her. A few months after getting married, she got pregnant and then had a miscarriage. She took the miscarriage really hard. The doctors put her on a medication to deal with the depression. She seemed normal, and had even written out her "to do" list for the day. Then with no one inside the house, she put a gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger. Her newlywed husband heard the shot, and found her. She was somehow not dead. She went into a coma. My wife and I got a call and we knew we needed to be there. We drove the 9 hours to the hospital and spent the next several days and night around-the-clock praying for her, for strength for Andy, for the family. She lay there with visibily no disfiguration since the bullet was lodged in the back of her head. Like she was sleeping. We contended. We cried. We fought for her life. Nineteen years old. Life full of promise. The baby of the family. We gave it our all. The hospital saw her as an opportunity for an organ donor. The hospital said we had only until a certain day and time and then that would be it. We prayed and fought harder. It is etched in my mind the scene as we had been asked to leave the room and are now standing in the hallway. We watched as our nineteen year old niece was wheeled down the hall to an operating room where they harvested her organs. The memories of it continue to overwhelm me. The horror of it. The worst nightmare. Helpless we stood by. We broke down. Cried. In shock. Defeated by death.
Andy - Emmalee was married to a wonderful young man named Andy. We had known Andy for years, as he was involved in their church, came often to family events, and was around Emmalee's house & family a lot. Through the whole hospital circumstances, he was quiet, hurting terribly on the inside. We prayed for strength for him; we tried to encourage him. The morning after Emmalee's passing, we were preparing to return home. We didn't see Andy and just figured that he wanted to be alone. Eight hours later, when we were almost back to our home, we get a call. Andy had hung himself. All of us in the Suburban just broke down weeping. It was like the one-two punch. Completely knocked us out. Barely able to function. Hearts absolutely broken. Almost every day I think of Emmalee and Andy. I think of their lives. My heart breaks for their immediate family. Recently I watched the movie "Courageous" again. In the movie the main character's daughter, coincedentally named Emily, died. The pastor character says, "It is similar to someone who has had a limb amputated. They live, but will never be the same." Emmalee and Andy's deaths so impacted me that at times it feels like I have had a limb amputated and am learning to function without it. There were lots of times of questioning God, anger and disappointment in Him for not saving Emmalee, and correspondingly Andy, from this tragedy.
Marilyn - This past April, Karen's sister was riding bicycle with her two kids. She suddenly didn't feel well, and asked her son to go back to the house and get her inhaler. While he was gone a few minutes, she passed out on the road and went into a coma. For almost a month she remained in a coma. Based upon our past experience with Emmalee, it was very difficult to visit Marilyn in the hospital. The emotions raged. Faith was severly tested. Panic would set in. What if she died? What if God didn't heal her? Again, a wonderful Christian woman, kind, generous, very family oriented. Still young - just a couple of years older than myself. But it was not to be. A month later, she passed away. And yet again, we were stunned. It didn't make sense. Why didn't God heal her? Why her? How could this possibly be for the good? She never woke up, she couldn't communicate. No one got to really say goodbye. The pain is still fresh. Gift-giving was her love language, and she loved to give our family gifts. While it makes the birthdays and soon-coming Christmas different and difficult, we know that with the gifts we give each other, we are carrying on her love of giving of gifts.
My mom - My mom had a rare form of cancer of the blood. She had taken pills for it for almost 10 years, but it was catching with her. On 9/11, ironically, she had to go to the hospital with severe swelling in her feet. From that point on, she could barely walk. The family had to assist her with everything. She could only take a few steps to a wheelchair, transfer to a commode, or a chair. For five weeks, the family rotated through shifts caring for her. She knew the end was near. She wanted to go over the finances. She wanted to know if any of her nine children wanted any items. It was difficult to talk about. She continued to struggle. The doctors really couldn't and wouldn't do anything. It was just a matter of time. But as our shift came around, we got to spend a lot of time with her and other family members. Lots of family visited, driving or flying in, helping and talking with her. For five weeks, the house was full of family, telling stories, laughing, just being together. In a way, it was like a vacation or a big family reunion. But it also was mentally exhausting to see her fade and with helping with humbling situations. That humility brought a bonding. It had to be rough on her - being an incredible servant - now with her family needing to do everything for her. She was coherent and talking for those five weeks and she told everyone, "I am at peace. Perfect peace. I'm not scared one bit." The last couple of days the pain took over. She suffered tremendously, was incoherent, and slept most of the time. Then she passed away in her sleep. She had lived a full, satisfying life. She knew it was time. We all knew it was the time. To know she is reunited with my dad, rid of the cancerous pain, and in heaven makes it much easier to deal with. Yet I don't feel like it has really sunk in yet. It's only been two weeks, and I already notice numerous trigger points. I know the holidays - where we gathered at her house - will be a challenge. In it all, I feel like her final weeks were a gift from God - for her to have her family around her, to experience the love once again, and for all of us to be with her and, in essence, say goodbye.
My experiences with death have been varied. Some have been extremely painful, others are more of a celebration of their lives. I don't understand the big picture. I don't understand why some lives are cut short. I don't understand why God chooses to take some home when their lives are full of promise and destiny. I don't understand why some are healed and some are not. I don't understand why the death process is so ugly. But that is OK.
My faith for the extreme miraculous has, honestly, been almost devestated. I'm not healed from those experiences. Frankly, I'm not sure what it'll take to restore that faith. I can believe for less-radical healings or miracles, but those dealing with life-and-death situations will be a challenge.
I now have some understanding and empathy for those who have lost loved ones. For each of us, the story is different, but the pain, the sadness, and the feeling of loss resonates with mine.
We all have to go through the death process - with our loved ones and ourselves. While it is a painful and difficult thing to go through, there are a few things that seem to help:
- Have a strong relationship with The Lord. He is the one who provides comfort, understanding, and healing.
- Embrace the pain. It sounds cliche, but it true. When we push the pain down or away, we don't learn and grow from it. With every death, it makes me appreciate and love my family even more.
- Life is short. Relationships are the most important. Learn from the loss. Value your time that you have.
If you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear of your experiences concerning death and how you learned through those experiences and how you dealt with the loss. May God give us all comfort and peace!
