eternity
my uncle lives in a trailer home in a low class neighborhood; not a very big house but it's all he can afford, it's all he's ever been able to afford. the yard was crowded with cars and half of them i didn't recognize. "he looks bad," my cousin had warned us. but no amount of words could have prepared me for what i saw.walking through that door into the smallest of bedrooms, so dimly lit, i felt as though i had been punched in the gut. i gasped for breath as tears flooded my eyes because this -- this wasn't my uncle. this person lying here in the double bed that took up most of the space in the room -- this was a holocaust survivor, or a starving african refugee, but this wasn't my uncle. it couldn't be.
yet it was. his face was so gaunt that his chin and cheekbones stuck out at immense angles. his eyes, already deepset like my dad's, were sunken so far into his face, the lids half shut and his eyes rolled back slightly. his neck was so thin that it looked like a child's. and his body. the last time i had seen him, a month ago, he had been thin, even somewhat emaciated. but it was nothing compared to this. he wore only a pair of shorts with an elastic waist band -- his other clothes grown far too large -- and you could every single bone in his body. his arms and legs were thinner than my own. i could count every rib, trace the bumps on his spine, place my fingers underneath the gap between his shoulder blades and his flesh. only his stomach was bloated, and his abdomen was carved with a terrible scar from his liver transplant. he looked like a skeleton, not a man. but he turned his head when we walked in the room and when he spoke, his voice was so high, so scratchy and almost nonexistant that i could hardly make out what he was saying.
when we got there, my aunts were helping him move to sit in a chair so they could change the sheets on the bed. the chair was only a step's distance from the bed but when he reached it he dropped down into it like it took every ounce of strength he had to make it there. my dad knelt on the floor next to him, and my uncle...i cry even as i write this...my uncle wrapped his emaciated arms around my dad's neck like a little child, laid his head against the top of my dad's head, and closed his eyes. my heart broke into a million pieces. i had to look away, i was crying so hard. and i'll never forget that -- the two of them there together -- for the rest of my life. what do you say? how can you put such a thing into words.
in the bed once again, we all sat next to him as my dad read the Bible and talked to him. i'm not sure my uncle heard half of it; his eyes were so vacant. they told us he hasn't been able to eat or drink for weeks. the only thing he can keep down is crushed ice, and even that he can only tolerate in spoonfuls at a time. he is literally starving to death. he hallucinates about being able to eat food, he is so hungry. because of this his electrolytes are so messed up that his body jerks. sometimes it convulses. sometimes he cries out in pain, a loud gasp that sent pain pulsing through my own body, and i had to turn away. his breating was heavily labored; sometimes he would go for what seemed like an eternity without a breath, and i would be watching his chest to see it rise and in my head i kept thinking, please breathe please just breathe, and the he would -- a shuddering breath that seemed to exhaust him completely. over and over i had to turn away, not to keep myself from crying because i was already doing that plenty, but because the pain was too much to tolerate.
people passed in and out of the room: his wife, his and my dad's sisters, his mother-in-law, his daughters, friends he knows from church. so many people who love this man dearly and not a single eye was dry. there was my dad reading the Bible too his little brother softly and his voice kept breaking with tears. that broke my heart too, almost as much as anything else.
we took a break later and went on a walk, my dad and esther and i. the tension behind my eyes was enormous, but greater was the pain in my stomach, the weight of grief that was pushing so hard on my shoulders that i wanted to vomit. oh God it hurts so bad. hurts so bad. i can't put it into words.
so the three of us stayed there all day, sitting in that dark bedroom and watching this life pass like a shadow, ever so slowly. over and over i prayed for God to take him home; heaven knows he was ready. i begged for it, i pleaded, and yet he continued to take one struggling breath after another. at one point he looked over at me and his eyes seemed to return from wherever it was that he had gone, because i tried to smile at him and he said, "it's not fun being like this."
"you're going to be home soon." i said this through tears.
"i want to go home now," he whispered, and oh heart is there no end to your breaking?
i crawled across the bed and took his frail hand in mine, rubbed my fingers up and down his arm. he was far away again and his hand shook, curling and uncurling in my own, and i would have done anything oh anything to relieve his pain. all day there had been words passing through my mind, and finally it was only my sister and i in the room with him.
"you're going to be home soon," i said again, his hand still clinging to mine. "and then you'll forget about all of this..."
he started as if he had just noticed i was talking.
"you're going to be home soon..." i repeated.
with no warning he reached out his arms to me and said, "come lay here with me."
pain was raining from the inside of my heart as i crept up the bed and layed my head upon his shoulder. he wrapped his arms around me, those thin thin arms, and i put mine around him as i spoke into his ear.
"you're going to be home and then you'll forget about all of this. you're almost there. you just have to keep holding on. don't give up because you're almost there. and everyone in heaven is watching. you've been running your race and you're almost at the end. and everyone in heaven is waiting to welcome you home. they're cheering you on. and you'll be with Jesus and you will become like Him. so don't give up. hang in there. you're going to make it." all of this poured out because it was what i had been thinking all day, what i had been longing to say to him. with every word he squeezed me tighter, and my voice broke, over and over; i could hardly get the words out.
"thank you." he whispered.
"i love you," i whispered back, and kissed his cheek as he kissed mine.
"will you sing to me?" this too came out in a whisper.
"yeah, yeah. what song do you want me to sing?"
"Jesus loves me."
i stumbled through the song, my voice wet with tears. i could hardly get through it.
but "that was beautiful," he said when i was done.
never in my life will i forget the way that felt, laying so close to him and holding each other so tight and my heart breaking, my heart breaking, my heart breaking.
"she was laying with me," he said to my dad when my dad came back into the room. "she was holding my hand."
as if it meant a lot to him somehow.
at some point after that he started hallucinating, speaking nonsense words and returning to reality only every now and then. we stayed there with him all day, my dad reading the Bible to him and praying over him, me praying that he would go soon, and my uncle begging for some more morphine, asking us to sing to him, convulsing and crying out in pain. i felt overcome with grief. i was helpless and we were all waiting. every minute seemed to last an hour.
finally we had to go, and though i thought i could never say goodbye, i forced myself. one last hug, one last look into those fading eyes, and i whispered one last time, "you're almost there. you can make it."
"i'm proud of you, becky." those were the last words he spoke to me.
i sat back down on the bed. "and i'm proud of you. we'll see you again someday soon. i love you." one last kiss and those were the last words i spoke to him.
my heart will never stop breaking over this.
oh billy. i'll miss you until the day i see you again.