So, here I sat filled with resentment and self-pity. Why me? One of Denny’s brothers was on his way but he wouldn’t be here until morning. Denny would be lucky to get a flight out of London in two or three days because of bad weather.
The nurses had brought a roll-away bed in for me to stay the night. I didn’t really want to sleep in this cold room but even after all the misery Jack had caused, I still didn’t want him to die alone. And, the doctors said it could happen tonight.
In the evening I pulled a chair up beside Jack’s bedside and took his hand in mine, more out of boredom than anything. The room was dark except for a slit of light from the hallway that fell across Jack’s bed and illuminated only him. At that moment the whole situation seemed like it was too much for me. I felt alone and overwhelmed. My mind was fighting a mental and spiritual battle of knowing I should make peace with this man before he died but also wanting to walk out the door and never look back.
“God help me—I feel so alone, and I don’t know how to handle this. Please just let me feel Your presence. Show me something that lets me know I need to stay here beside this….,” I thought about interjecting some cynical and fitting adjective but knew that would be very un-Christian, “….man. But Lord, how can I? Please help me.” I said amen and hung my head in despair.
A few seconds later, I felt Jack’s hand squeeze mine, ever so slightly. I jerked my head up to look at his eyes—nope—they were still closed. Maybe I imagined it. Then, he did it again; this time holding my hand tighter and longer. Still no movement of his eyelids.
I realized two things at that moment: First, God really was there with me—I wasn’t alone. Second, this man needed me. Regardless of any of my past dreadful encounters with him, he was still one of God’s creations. Somewhere deep inside of me a genuine love for Jack was birthed, which I knew was only possible through the Holy Spirit. It had to be God, because of the plethora of ill feelings I had harbored toward him for so many years. I couldn’t, and didn’t want to, leave him now.
I spent the rest of the night sitting by Jack’s bedside, holding his hand and stroking his arm now and then. Once in a while, I would kiss his cheek. And, all through the night, I prayed. Only now, it was not for me but was a petition for Jack—that he would somehow be able to give his heart to Jesus before he died. He had spent years vocally rejecting the Lord, and I shamefully thought about how I had rejected any hope for Jack.
I found a Bible and read Scripture to him, verses that pertained to salvation and heaven. About 2 a.m., I ask Jack if he wanted to ask Jesus to forgive him of his sins. I explained that in doing so, Jesus would come to live in his heart as his Savior and that he, Jack, would spend eternity in heaven with God. I didn’t know if he could even hear me at this point. Again, he squeezed my hand and, for the first time that night, opened his eyes for a few seconds.
I cried and then prayed the prayer of salvation for my father-in-law. I asked him to squeeze my hand once more if he agreed with the prayer. He did. Joy filled me as Jack went from being completely opposed to any relationship with God to being an adoptive child in the King of Kings’ family.
About 3 a.m., Jack began to struggle to breathe. I went and got the nurse who called the doctor in. But, because Jack had a do-not-resuscitate order, there was nothing they could do. I held Jack’s hand as he passed from this life to his heavenly home with His Lord. As he took his last breath, a slight smile graced his lips. I smiled, too, through my tears. He didn’t die alone, and I had experienced two miracles, one in Jack and one in my heart, too. Jack was now in the presence of God, and I couldn’t wait to tell Denny and everyone.
©2010 Tammy Maseberg All Rights Reserved