Hospice has come to
my best friend since adolescence home. He’s been on dialysis every other day
for three years. We went in the U.S. Navy at the tail end of ‘Nam on the buddy
plan. About half way through our enlistment he started having kidney problems.
Fast forward 2
transplants, skin cancer, lung cancer and various sundry ailments, torments and
treatments later and there you have it. We have had an ongoing discussion over
the years on matters of the spirit, God, religion and such. He’s a
self-proclaimed agnostic.
“I’ve just always
figured … we’re here and then we’re not,” he said on the phone the other day.
“The thing is,” he continued, “ I just want to keep having
one more cup of coffee with Lillian.” (His wife and caretaker) “I just want to
look out this window and see another sunrise.”
“I know you’re
tired, man.” I said.
“Oh yeah, I’m plenty
tired and you wouldn’t believe how frail I’ve become but I LIKE it here.”
I’ve always
wondered how he kept on; transplants, dialysis, hospitals, doctors, shots and
needles, pain and discomfort. Not just for while but for his entire adult life.
His comments have echoed though and I see a hint of the source of his
perseverance.
I’ve always believed in an “afterlife”. No
doubt … no friction … just and evolving faith that assures another reality …
another place of expanded awareness that I can call “resting with God.” So if I
was suffering like Randy I’d just want to go home, I think. I’d want to let go
of the pain and surrender into the universe that is abiding faith.
For him it is an
end. For me, I suspect it would be a new beginning. So I’ll go see him three
hours away most likely to say goodbye. We are both survivors of violently
alcoholic fathers. I think we became codependent for many years. If I could
give him anything it would be the hope and assurance that it’s not over. He
gets another chance … another cup of coffee with Lillian.
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