John
13:1-17, 31b-35. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all
things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got
up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself.
Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet…
My aunt lived alone. Strong willed and independent,
she traveled extensively. A few nights before she planned to depart for Alaska,
she had a severe stroke to the left side of her brain.
After the stroke, my aunt was unable to speak. The
right side of her body was paralyzed. She had to relearn how to do everything:
eat, sit, and stand. Yet she persisted. She labored to learn how to write left
handed, relearned the alphabet, and worked tirelessly to write a brief card to
each of us on our birthdays. She worked hard to regain control of her feet and
her hands.
As I would enter the room, her smile of recognition
and gratitude warmed my heart and gave me the hope for our next conversation.
While Pat lived two and a half years after the stroke, we were never clear
exactly what she knew and understood about our conversations and her daily
existence.
After several invasive infections and repeated
hospitalizations, we could see in her eyes: she had had enough.
My sister, my daughter, my mom, my nephew, and I
spent our last visit with Pat singing camp songs. I knew that the hands that
had helped me tie my shoes, and model how to trim a rosebush, now just liked to
be cupped in my hands. She listened to the songs, but the smile was gone.
“Please let me go,” her eyes seemed to say.
Similarly, one day I know that the little backs and
feet and hands that I clothed and bathed will become my support. Modeling the
ability to listen, to forgive, to be forgiven, and to love unconditionally are
the critical skills I have attempted to share with our kids. They are also the
skills I hope to model at the threshold of death. With Pat, we thought that her
greatest life skills came in the living. But I admired her ability to know when
death was near and be receptive to the ways we each chose to accompany her to
the threshold. My sister and I chose to close with these old familiar songs we
had shared on hiking trails, as if she were always carrying the tune with us in
our heads and hearts. Maybe these same hiking songs will carry my sister and me
to the threshold surrounded by our children and nieces. I know I will love them
to the end. I pray that God gives the strength to know how and when to open my
heart to Holy Spirit.
— Gretchen Breunig
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