My Precious Life

I read somewhere that death is simply a matter of the next breath failing to come. I was with Jerry when this statement became a sad reality. He had been in Scarborough General Hospital’s palliative care unit for a week when it was decided he could spend his remaining time back in the long term care facility which had been his home for three years.
On June 29th, 2007, I had a feeling of certainty that the end was near for this dear man. His family, including those who had flown in from Ireland, had joined me by his side for the past twenty-four hours. They left shortly before the supper hour to get some much deserved rest. I needed to stay with Jerry. Two of my daughters and his part-time caregiver, Maxine, remained with me through the final hours.
As the evening wore on, Jerry’s shallow breathing was the only sound in that now darkened room except for a few hushed words among the three girls. Holding Jerry’s hand and quietly praying, I felt blessed to be in that time and space. As his breaths became fewer and farther between, a feeling of serenity came over me and I silently urged him to let go and let God carry him the rest of the way.
Moments before his final breath, a single tear rolled slowly down Jerry’s cheek. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t imagine a finer farewell. And then he was gone. I took his tear on my finger tip and mingled it with the tears on my own cheeks as I let go of my Irishman’s hand. It was 11:29 pm. Jerry’s life journey was over and mine without him had just begun.

“….he has crossed over from death to life” (John 5:24)