It wasn’t until my father died that I realized that “sympathy” upon the death of a loved one was.. well.. perhaps well meaning, which of course is appreciated, but how in the world could anyone truly sympathize, not having the same experiences that I had, with my auld man?
No one can really know.
And here I am now, “debating” some dude on “papal love” while I watch a dear friend of mine waste away and die. A man that over the past 6 years helped me whenever he could, who took an interest in my business, who was a confidante of mine many times, a man who had a great mind – he was employed by the NSA before the NSA even admitted to existing as an organization, and who was on a team of crack code breakers back in the 60’s during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and who helped break USSR radio encoded transmissions – who spent years analyzing events and helped to develop strategy.
A man with a heart of gold. Who had personal dreams that were yet to be fulfilled, even just three months ago, and who was working on those dreams and goals.
To watch the physical wasting away of this man.. and even think that some would say it is caused by “The Fall,” but yet God loves him, as do other Christians claim to love him, yet they don’t know a whit about him.
I keep thinking to myself, as I watch him, “do I really want to simply wait for death like this, myself? Laying there, helpless, hardly unable to communicate, needing to depend on others for a drink of water as my muscles disappear and all that is left of me is bone and skin. Wearing a diaper that someone else has to change – and be uncomfortable in doing so.
“For God so loved the world….”
Dying in dignity was not part of that “so loved” part though. Yeah, I know some will think I am bitter against God. But you know what? I’m not.
What I’m bitter about are those that are full of live, vim and vigour and have the gall to suggest that this is all “God’s Will.”
Within a few days, perhaps two, perhaps five, maybe 7 (which would be really pushing it), my friend will be dead. Gone. Oh yea, I’ll have memories. Good ones.
But god damn, the bad ones of watching him become what he has become will be terrible memories. And the thought that someday, maybe, my loved ones will have to go through the same thing.. hell, I’d rather be shot, I think, then to have to want my loved ones to ever put up with this misery. The memories of the decay.
My friend is going to leave a legacy. I hope I will to. And I hope my legacy is not one of finally being so weak, I cannot even communicate, and having friends around, simply waiting for me to die. Wondering if someone will change my diaper.
I’d rather be shot, I think.
I’m pretty sure my friend knows he is going to die soon. I don’t know for sure, but I _think_ that he is fighting more to be able to communicate then he is fighting to stay alive physically in discomfort and pain.
I’ll be back to the state run hospital tomorrow. My friend will take more comfort knowing someone will hold his hand then he will take in being a state paid for bed, while he waits to die.
The State, no matter what it does, cannot give “care” and love.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoesever should believe on him, should have everlasting life. The rest of you can all go to hell. Despite what God has predestined or elected. And those who are in heaven will not need to worry themselves about loving those who do not have everlasting life. You’ll be too busy learning to play the harp and getting your feet hardened to walking streets of gold.”