I think I knew when I opened my eyes, on this morning, three years ago, in the ICU waiting room, I instinctively knew that the end was near. But what my mind knew and what my heart knew were two different things. My mind knew that frail, sick, worn out physical body couldn't last much longer. My heart desperately wanted to see a miracle. My mind knew that miracle was indeed unlikely. My heart did not want to know.
I was sitting beside Bobby, holding his hand, when his father, George, walked into the room. I was surprised to see him there so early in the morning. It was a little after 7:00 a.m. I guess he too may have sensed the inevitability of this day. He just wanted to quietly see his first born son, one last time, this side of Heaven's gate. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like for his father to watch his own son, so very close to death. I wonder what went on in his mind and with his heart.
As the day went by, family members were in and out of the room. Each came and stood by his bed. Sometimes words of "I love you" "I'm praying for you" were said. Mostly their faces just had tears streaming down their cheeks. I could tell it was going to be a very quiet room that day. Hearts were breaking.
I could not bear to think of Bobby's last hours being spent hearing silence. I believe with all my heart that he was aware of his surroundings. We couldn't tell that for sure by looking at him, hooked up to all those machines. He had not been able to speak a conscience word since the night he collapsed, earlier in the week. However, in those last days, I know he heard me. He gave me a physical sign. I am so thankful that God allowed me to know this. Bobby squeezed my hand, when I asked to him to "Squeeze my hand, if you can hear me." It was ever so slight, but I felt it. He did this several times with his fingers. He even got an eye blink communication going on with me. I cherish this and know I was privileged that God blessed me with this assurance of Bobby's awareness.
I read out loud to him all throughout the day. I had been doing this all week. I had brought a Max Lucado book, that had belonged to his mother and a week's worth of devotions, written by Dr. Charles Stanley about assurances of our salvation, up to the ICU room. Bobby loved listening to Dr. Stanley each week. Reading to him from the Bible and from some of his favorite Christian influences surely brought a sense of calmness and peacefulness to his last days and especially during his last hours on his last day. My heart knows this.
It was mid-afternoon. I looked up and there stood Pastor Sam Jewell. My sister, Gail had called him and asked him to come up to the hospital. I have known Pastor Jewell since 1985, when my family had moved to Green Cove Springs. I have precious memories of my dear family sitting in the church he pastored. My parents, my in-laws, aunt and uncle, my sister and her family, all at times, attended that church. Pastor Jewell has helped guide my family through several funerals, the most recent one being my father, George Beitel, four months previously. Bobby did not really know Pastor Jewell, except through his relationship with my Dad. As Pastor Jewell relayed to me that day, I discovered that he and Bobby had spoken several times, either at the hospital or at Life Care Center, while he was visiting my dad. They had even talked about fishing, one of Bobby's passions. Pastor Sam visited with us for a while and then he prayed with us. It was getting to be late Sunday afternoon and he had to leave to get ready for his Sunday evening service. He told me that he would have a special prayer for Bobby at church. I asked him if when the time came, would he please conduct the funeral. Even though Bobby and my church memberships were at Crown Point Baptist Church and Bobby loved Pastor Steve, at this painful moment, I wanted and probably needed the familiarity and comfort of Pastor Sam, as I had known him for 22 years. He said yes. For that, I am grateful. By the time, he had that prayer for Bobby at the 6:00 p.m. service, Bobby was already with Jesus.
The moment of death, when one passes from this life and into Heaven is a private, solitary moment. No one accompanies you. It is just you and Jesus. I began to silently and selfishly pray that no one else be in that ICU room at the moment Bobby slipped away to meet Jesus, except me.
God granted me that moment.
I heard several family members talk about going downstairs to get something to eat. It was a around 5:00 p.m. Conversation went back and forth about whether to just send a couple of people downstairs to bring food back up or whether to all go downstairs and eat in the cafeteria. They chose to all go. Less than a minute after they had all left the room, a nurse came in and told me this; "I've been watching his machines. I believe he only has about five minutes left. You crawl up in that bed with him, put your arms around him and tell him anything you want him to know. I'll call the family and let them know."
I did just that. I cradled Bobby in my arms. I held him close. I told him how much I loved him. I told him that I forgave him for the painful times. I told him that very soon, he would be with Jesus and that his precious mother would be waiting for him. I promised him that I would be okay, that his family and my family loved me and would be there for me. I told him he could stop fighting to hang on, that it was okay to let go. I kissed his lips.
The machines fell silent. Bobby was home, finally home.
No more pain, no more struggles,no more demons.
Just Bobby, at home in the presence of the Lord. The time was 5:17 p.m.
Bobby's greatest adventure had just begun.
Until that day when we meet again, I pray Bobby knows that he was "Always Loved And Will Never Be Forgotten."
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