It’s the morning after and I’m sad. It doesn’t help that the weather has flipped back to overcast skies with a sprinkling of rain falling through temperatures that have dipped back into the 50s after a weekend of high 80s. Yesterday was breezy with the sun poking out frequently through puffy white clouds. Yesterday, Tuesday, is a day of the week that holds a lot of anticipation for me. Admittedly, I am a “This Is Us” addict so knowing that the second to last episode would be airing had me full of expectation all day long as I went about my daily routine, getting in a walk, and presiding over a weekly ministry meeting, rushing home to tune in to one of my favorite TV families of all time, the Piersons. 

Second admission today…I’m sad. After a lengthy battle with Alzheimer’s disease the Piersons’ beloved mom and grandmother is laden with farewells by all she deeply loved. Coming to her bedside one at a time, family members said their goodbyes. In a dreamlike state Rebecca “heard” and “saw” each one as she lovingly remembered them through her years of parenting three beautiful children. With each quiet breath and subtle scene change she told William “I’m waiting for someone”..…that’s the part of the script that grabbed at my emotions and remains as lingering sadness this morning. 

I’ve had the privilege saying goodbye to my mother-in-law, my mother, my father-in-law, but not my father. I’ve also said “goodbye” to my youngest brother-in-law and my oldest brother. Sitting at the side of a loved one who is leaving their earthly home for one in eternity is an experience that I cannot put into words other than to say it’s remarkable that I am forever grateful I had these opportunities with my loved ones. Equally worth mentioning, is that I confess harboring deep sadness not being present when my father passed away. Dad never was one to “put someone out” with his needs or troubles…I guess that’s why he waited for my brother to leave the room, head home, and slip away quietly in the solace of his room. 

Watching as “Rebecca” made her way from train car to train car, each one giving her a different memory of her children, there was a speaker mounted in the corner of one such car. Pouring out of the speaker was the voice of her daughter, Kate. “I’m here mom. I’m here”. 

Science is showing us that the sense of hearing is still active in a dying person, even if they are non-responsive. I had heard this years ago and held firm to its claim. When we knew my mother-in-law was in her last hours, my husband and I read scripture to her. We sang songs. We prayed. We talked to her.

When my own mother lay non-responsive in her living room, all of us surrounding her bed, we laughed. We shared memories. We read scripture. We were careful about what we said. We gave her permission to “go” along with our strong promises to always take care of dad.

When my father-in-law was at the end of his life, all of us kids and most of the grandchildren were able to tell him their final thoughts, say our goodbyes. My husband was with him on the morning he passed.

It’s expected to lose our parents and though difficult, I think losing siblings is far worse. At least for me, for my husband, this has been true. Both John and Dave were taken by cancer. Both lingered in and out of being able to converse, but that didn’t stop us from being present when we were able. Visits to them prior to their death were important and timely. Both passed away without us being by their side. I don’t remember any of my last words spoken to either brother, but I take comfort knowing they “heard” my voice.

Rebecca repeated several times “I’m waiting for someone”. In a fictionalized depiction of a beloved character’s life cleverly and lovingly scripted by gifted writers, I got a picture of what her “waiting” looked like. In the lives of my moms, dads, brothers, I can only imagine what scenes brushed through their minds as they lay waiting for the final breath that would take them from pain to glory.  As much as I wonder what they “heard” in final moments, I marvel at the images they immediately saw when earthly breath was exchanged for heavenly breezes washing over their faces. 

Yes, I’m sad this morning. A good sadness, though. Without apology I’m thankful that a favorite television drama is able to weave a story in such a way that it causes me to reflect…to wonder…to be grateful…to shed a tear or two without shame…and most importantly, to prepare myself for my own departure some day, to love my family well, create memories that last a lifetime….and if I find myself “waiting for someone to arrive” my prayer is that he or she is able. I want to hear what they have to say.