I just recently lost a very dear friend.
He and his wife had been friends of mine since 2002. They were both beautiful Christians. He was severely disabled. He had a deterioration of the spine, COPD, fibromyalgia, and multiple sclerosis.
To top everything off, his wife also was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and Parkinson's a few years back. He insisted upon being her caregiver, and took care of her every need. He cooked, did the laundry, cleaned the house, and took care of their pet dog, from his power wheelchair. It was only just recently that he relented and allowed outside caregivers to come in and do housework and such.
His wife worsened in the past few months. She was hospitalized, and he went every chance he could get, in his wheelchair, through the streets to visit her...even though the wear and tear on his body at this point was taking its toll. Last month, the doctors announced that she would not be able to return home, and would be placed in a Personal Care Facility. He said to me, "This leaves me with that guilty feeling that maybe if I did just a little bit more..." I assured him that no one could have done more than he did. And no one could have expected more from him.
I had not heard from him in a month. He would usually send me updates weekly. I decided to email him to see if everything was ok. The email bounced back to me. I sent another...same thing. I then decided to call their home, and got a signal on the phone that the line was disconnected. Thoughts went through my head...maybe he had decided to move closer to the facility that they had moved his wife to, and did not have time to let me know. I wondered also if something had happened to him, as he was not in the best of health. I decided one day to search their local newspaper online...nothing. I thought, "well, at least I know he's ok." The worst part about it was not knowing for sure. I then decided to do an online search. I typed his name and city into the search engine, and there it was...his obituary. It was in another newspaper. He had passed away at the age of 53. I was in shock. I found out later that he was unable to breathe, and died alone at his house. But then it came to me that we are never alone...as a mighty host of angels surround us!
The Lord reminded me that I will see him again some day...as he is safe in the arms of Jesus now. No more pain, no more sorrow.
He wrote a poem for me early on in our friendship, and I believe that he would love for me to share it with all of you now...
Snowflakes, just as with people, it is known that no two are quite alike.
Each shall be of its own design, but shall together serve a great purpose.
All the trials that come before us are but snowflakes.
All the love that we share shall accumulate with them.
Together they are the snows that form our lives.
Through God, they are perfect and shall by design keep us warm. They shall protect us from the winds of change, or the storms of anger or frustration or hurtfulness.
Let God's snows be your blanket, and its pure white protect you from the darkness and the shadows.
They shall reflect the brilliance of God's Promise, and hold the warmth of your heart.
GH, October 2002
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?
1 Corinthians 15:55
Until He comes...
