The Last Note

July 14, 2020

I got "the call" this morning. You know the one. The one you keep expecting but hope never arrives. I was to come right away, if possible. I rushed to my car and sped down the road (apologies to the highway patrol. Thank you for not pulling me over). I wanted to be there to hold his hand, to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, to comfort him. But he decided to go quickly, before I could get there. Yes, that was devastating, especially since I'd had a camp cot, pillow, and weekender in the trunk of my car for over a month, expecting (obviously) to be with him for however long it took, at the drop of a hat.

But here's the cool thing:  The music therapist was having a video call with him (you'll remember how he loved music therapy) and was playing and singing Paul Simon's The 59th Street Bridge Song:

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feelin' groovy...

And here's the other cool thing:  As she was singing "feelin' groovy," he and Jesus decided it was time for him to go Home. He passed from this life to the next,  just like that. He fell asleep here, and he woke up there (or, for those who believe a bit differently, he will wake up there). And now he's healed. He's whole. He's...feelin' groovy.

Rest in perfect Peace, my love. There can never be another you. I'll miss you until I see you again. The time may seem long for me, but it will be short, really. And then we will be together in the presence of the Lord, and time will be infinite. Eternal.

The Lord, the Psalmist’s Shepherd.
A Psalm of David.
(New International Version)

23 The Lord is my shepherd,
I [a]shall not want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside [b]quiet waters.
3 He restores my soul;
He guides me in the [c]paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk through the [d]valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no [e]evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You [f]have anointed my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
6 [g]Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will [h]dwell in the house of the Lord [i]forever.

Footnotes
Psalm 23:1 Or do
Psalm 23:2 Lit waters of rest
Psalm 23:3 Lit tracks
Psalm 23:4 Or valley of deep darkness
Psalm 23:4 Or harm
Psalm 23:5 Or anoint
Psalm 23:6 Or Only
Psalm 23:6 Another reading is return to
Psalm 23:6 Lit for length of days

Ukulele Tunes

A while back, I happened to be at the facility when the music therapist arrived to sing and play for my husband. The young man who was originally assigned to him has now been replaced by a young woman, and she's just as sweet and kind as can be. She selected a few tunes from my husband's youth, and I sang harmony to her melody. It was fun.

The thing is, I noticed how my husband's eyes lit up as she played and we sang. It dawned on me that listening to recorded music is nice, but it isn't the same as live music. The interaction is on a different level entirely. While my husband certainly liked the iPod playlist, there was more opportunity to catch a moment of clarity and connection with live music. So, I decided I would pick up our guitar and learn a few chords.

There was only one problem with that. The instrument, a classical acoustic guitar, was just too big for me to lug around, and my unaccustomed, clumsy fingers couldn't manage the string and fret distances. I tried. I failed. Don't judge me; I may return to fight another day.

Enter the ukulele! It arrived a few days after I ordered it online, and I learned three or four chords right away. Did you know you can play and sing a bunch of songs with only three or four chords? A few days later, I arrived at the facility with five whole songs in my repertoire. I tried to stay in a quiet corner with my husband for his "concert," but other residents gathered around for the entertainment. My playing was awful; but, on the plus side, my singing left something to be desired. They loved it.

In the ensuing weeks, I've learned more chords and more songs. Unfortunately, my husband appears to be in a declining state of engagement that seems to have started around the first of the year. I feel as though I've been a day late and a dollar short. Last Friday, he was on his bed in his room when I got there. I was happy to be able to spend some "alone" time with him, just the two of us. He almost started to smile when I greeted him, but didn't or couldn't, and he just turned away, vacantly looking up at the ceiling and over at the wall as I sang and played some familiar songs. Perhaps he was wondering who I was.

He didn't react much at all until I softly played "Nothing But the Blood of Jesus," an old standard written by a Baptist minister named Robert Lowry in 1876. And then he tried to whistle. The faint sound barely escaped his lips, but it went straight to my heart. 

At the end of each visit, I say the Lord's Prayer while holding my husband's hand, and then I pray Psalm 23 over us; but, this time, I began to sing the Lord's Prayer instead. As I did so, I noticed that he was folding his hands as if in prayer. I continued to strum the ukulele and hummed quietly as he fell asleep and started softly snoring, his folded hands relaxing and dropping to his chest. What a beautiful, peaceful moment it was.

My husband's body may be failing him. His cognitive ability may have left him. He is completely helpless and at the mercy of others for every aspect of daily living. But there is nothing wrong with his spirit.

A Christmas Miracle

Last Saturday morning, my husband had a seizure. Actually, he had another seizure. They don't happen often, but they do seem to always happen on a Saturday. I haven't figured that one out yet. Every time the phone rings now, I answer it with dread. Anyhow, his medications were reviewed, adjusted, and a new medication added. I don't know if the meds had anything to do with it, or if it was ardent prayer, or what, but what we've witnessed the past couple of days is a Christmas miracle!

He gave me a hug!

On Christmas Day, our eldest son and I went out for a visit to the facility together. We expected that my husband would be roaming around aimlessly, barely acknowledging our presence, and perhaps even sleeping intermittently. Like last time. Instead, he was animated (for him at this point) and obviously excited to see us. He was all smiles, reaching for my hand, reaching for our son's hand, drawing us close and sighing with satisfaction. I think he definitely knew who I was, and I'm sure he also recognized our son. He even responded to our questions and comments with a word or two. We were both absolutely thrilled!

The following day, my husband's sister (or, as she says, "his MUCH older sister") called to ask if it would be okay to visit my husband with her daughter. Of course it would! I had been at the facility for a while, doing hugely successful music therapy with lots of smiles and even dancing, when they arrived. The last time his sister visited, not that long ago, she cried when she left because my husband looked so poorly and seemed so weak. It hurt her heart. But this time, there he was smiling at her and smiling at her daughter, holding her hand, responding to her words and touch. And not just because she brought Christmas cookies, either. It was wonderful and so unexpected. Two good days in a row. Two extremely good days, two miraculous days.

Dear reader, I am well aware that the next visit might not be as fabulous, or that I might at any moment get another dreaded phone call about my husband's condition. But on this, the First Day of Christmas, I am deeply grateful for this Christmas miracle.