Yesterday evening I sat and listened to a family tell me stories of L. He was truly a remarkable man. He had been in the nursing home for a couple of years, and I always enjoyed my visits with him. Amazingly, he was one of those people who rallies and thrives in the nursing home. He was around people and had no responsibilities, quite a change from life alone on the farm.
He used to seek out arguments with me by making provocative statements, "I'm nothing but a waste of space and resources."
"I see you as a source of wisdom."
"I'm just a poor, dumb farmer."
"I am amazed by how much farmers need to know about so many different things."
"Christmas is for families, they shouldn't be burdened by having me there with them."
"Without you, none of them would exist. You're the founder of the family."
He had been on hospice for months, and had far outlived expectations. Last week I asked him how he was. "I'm still alive."
"Is that good news or bad news?"
"Bad news." Of course, he had a huge smile on his face when he told me that.
His son is a farmer, his daughter a teacher, so they have had the freedom to spend lots of time with him through the summer. It wasn't unusual to go visit him and find one of them and several adult grandchildren sitting in the room with him.
One of the greatest honors I have is walking with families through times like these and celebrating the life of their loved one at the funeral service. This will be my second this week, and both of these individuals were very special to me. Both had lived long lives and were ready to go on to the next. A was 93, L was 89. Both had outlived their spouses and were ready to be reunited with them. A's son told me yesterday, "You won't be able to repeat this service on Friday. There will be too many of the same people there." I assured him that it would be a new service.
L's son and daughter were at A's service yesterday. I was surprised to see them, as I knew it would be hard on them. A had been in the same nursing home, and they had renewed their relationship with her during the long months of their Dad's decline. It was hard, but they were there. They were there to honor A's life, and A's sons will be there tomorrow to honor L's life. These families made this journey together. It is a sacred journey, and I'm grateful I've been allowed to accompany them.
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