What do I know?

I woke up this morning with a sigh. We probably slept most of yesterday waking up long enough to eat and then pass out again. Coming back to Charlotte was definitely different this time. Normally I am satisfied after a two week vacation filled with multiple destinations around Newfoundland, long chats around the kitchen table, endless cups of tea, and more food than a bear can store up for the winter. At the end of every trip when the inevitable goodbyes come, you hug your loved ones especially the ones who are more over the hill and the thought will always cross you mind that this may very well be the last time you get to hold them, say I love you, and then good bye.
Our first week was relaxing and went at what seemed like a snail's pace. We did not complain. My grandmother (Nan) has been sick for the past month and doctor's could not quite figure out what the problem was. On Friday, her CT scan showed her cancer is back and there is a mass attached to her abdominal wall. She was admitted Friday evening. On Monday, Des and I were in St. John's (about an hour from our hometowns) to do some visiting and were just getting things together to have dinner with my cousin and his new fiancee when the phone rang and it was mom saying they had taken Nan to ICU. Her breathing had become labored and she was on oxygen. Shortly after my sister got home mom called again and said Nan had been moved to palliative care, we had to move fast. We got to the hospital and I thought Nan had hours to live. The doctor said she may not make it through the night. Late that evening, the minister was called. He arrived with his wife shortly after. The room was packed with family and we all fell silent when the ministers came in the room. He waited for a while before reading Psalm 23 and then his wife prayed. After she prayed Nan made a grunt and we asked if she had heard the prayer, she grunted again. Within that next hour, Nan was asking for water. In the wee hours of the morning, she drank two cups of tea. By the morning, she was lifting a cup to her mouth unassisted. The doctor came in the next morning and was totally baffled at what he saw. She asked why he had moved her to palliative care and he told her point blank, "because we thought you weren't going to make it." She tutted. She asked when she could eat again. The doctor convinced her to take it slow as he was not prepared for this turn of events. You have to understand, she was supposed to die that night. There is a mottling of the skin that occurs just before death and Nan had that. This rash is irreversible once it occurs, and the doctor said her blood pH was at a level that was incompatible with life. By the morning her rash was gone.
That night, we stayed at the hospital. Trying to take her mind off of things I grabbed the Bible and asked if there was a favorite passage she would like me to read to her. She said, "I like it all." I thought so. I told her it was a New Testament copy so what in the New Testament do you like and warned her not to say, "I like it all." She chuckled and said, "What about something in Philippians." I turned to Philippians 4 and read the chapter. Side note: Gideons, please place updated versions of the bible in hospital rooms. Thank you.

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

The week that followed was a double edged sword to be a part of. On the one hand, I was so blessed to be in the room that night to witness this incredible will to live. To come back from the very edge of death and want nothing more than a good cup of tea should give you an indication of how good tea tastes in Newfoundland. On the other hand, as Walter Scheles put it, death is hard work. And although she is getting stronger every day, gone are the days of walking into her house and hearing her voice say, "Hello?" While I am able to get on a plane and have my last memories be good, my family has to stay behind and see it to the end.
Leaving the hospital on Saturday evening was possibly leaving Nan for the last time. I kissed her forehead and told her I loved her and took in one last gulp of the smell of her hair. She sighed and said "love you too." What a wonderful thing to know you are loved.
For the past week the song "What Do I Know" has been going through my head. I chose not to listen to it while at home. So yesterday while floating above the clouds, I found the track and turned it up.

I have a friend who just turned eighty-eight
and she just shared with me that she's afraid of dying.
I sit here years from her experience
and try to bring her comfort.
I try to bring her comfort
But what do I know? What do I know?
She grew up singing about the glory land,
and she would testify how Jesus changed her life.
It was easy to have faith when she was thirty-four,
but now her friends are dying, and death is at her door.
And what do I know? What do I know?

Well,I don't know that there are harps in heaven,
Or the process for earning your wings.
I don't know of bright lights at the ends of tunnels,
Or any of these things.

She lost her husband after sixty years,
and as he slipped away she still had things to say.
Death can be so inconvenient.
You try to live and love. It comes and interrupts.
And what do I know? What do I know?

Well,I don't know that there are harps in heaven,
Or the process for earning your wings.
And I don't know of bright lights at the ends of tunnels,
Or any of these things.

But I know to be absent from this body is to be present with the Lord,
and from what I know of him, that must be pretty good.
Oh, I know to be absent from this body is to be present with the Lord,
and from what I know of him, that must be very good.