I’ll miss you, friend!

My entire life.  I’ve known her my entire life.  She’s like an aunt to me . . . and now she’s nearly dead.  She and my mother used to make mints from scratch for every one of my cousins’ graduations.  You know, the really good, melt-in-your-mouth kind of mints that you have to mold and shape.  I remember “helping” them as a child (all my cousins are older than me, so I was quite young when they graduated.)  I always looked forward to the day when they would make them for me.  When it was my turn to graduate and she would make that special trip to our house for me.  They’d roll out the batter, add the mint extract, blend in my school colors . . .  She came so close, too.  I graduate in two months.  Two frickin’ months.

Her family took her off life support yesterday.  I’m glad.  I don’t want her to keep suffering like this.  She isn’t alert, isn’t responsive.  Severe seizures have contributed to heavy brain damage. . . but yet she still hangs in there.  I wonder why.  Now that the machine isn’t giving her life, what is it that her body and soul is holding on for?  Her mother’s at her side, so she isn’t waiting for that good-bye.  Is there someone else she’s waiting for?  Is there a sign or a lesson in all of this?  What is it? 

She’s breathing three breaths to a healthy person’s one.  In other words, she’s panting, lungs gasping for sweet air.  I cringe and think, Dear God, what a way to die.  This can’t be happening to someone that I love! 

I have acquaintances who, if they knew, would abhor the painful decision her family had to make.  They think it wrong to take someone off of life support.  To do such a thing is to play God.  The religious think we should rejoice in this suffering, as it makes us more like Christ.

You  know what?  Go ahead and rejoice.  Throw your hands in the air and shout to the heavens.  “Thank you God for this blessing.  I praise you that my beloved friend is slowly and achingly dying away.  May she and I both learn to love you better because of this.  I pray that with each ragged breath she would praise your name and feel the honor of knowing she is dying very much like you did.  Thank you for humbling and glorifying her in this way!”

As for me, I’m going to go on being heartbroken.  I will pray earnestly for her.  That God would heal her and either take her home or perform a miracle.  But that, either way, her battle would not draw out unnecessarily. 

Taking a person off of life support isn’t playing God; putting them on it in the first place is.  If a body can’t support itself and you use our science to make it go on breathing, you have just forced a dying person to live.  Having said that, I don’t think it’s wrong to do such a thing; that choice is up to you.  I’m just saying that people have that one twisted up. 

I don’t understand why a diabetic in her early 50’s has to die this way.  It makes me think of the movie Steel Magnolias. They took the diabetic off of life support there, too.  I only wish my story had a different ending than that one.  

But who knows? Maybe it will . . .


One Response

  1. […] by mle08 Hey, remember my amazing miracle I told you about?  (If not, you can find it here:  part one  and part two )  Well, I went to see my friend the day before yesterday.  I’m pleased to […]

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