Dying Well In Turn

Recommending a book in a class setting, a friend brought back a memory of one who died very well, and had a powerful impact on me.

Hugh was a lead baritone soloist with The Tidelanders, Houston's BIG barbershop group.  In hospital for a "second opinion" on pancreatic cancer, there sat Hugh on a gurney.  Blue cap and matching little house-shoes, too-small hospital gown, his smile still managed a humorous dignity.   Mary Rose sat beside him and said he looked cute.  A nurse, older, experienced, a little tired, came in the small room to do routine things, just as Hugh began to sing in that magnificent voice.

"I asked the Lord to comfort me, when things weren't going my way........."

Shocked, the tired nurse decided it was time to GO, before Hugh finished the song.  She wasn't used to singing with that diagnosis.

Several days later, I had an appointment to visit.  Hugh wasn't home.  I waited.  15 minutes later, his pickup pulled in the drive way.  "Sorry I'm late - had to get a haircut!  Dr. said the chemo would cause hair loss this next week, and I do LOVE getting my hair cut."  Great, sweeping, very Southern grey hair.  Worth one more cut, just for the fun of it.

Through a variety of treatments, slowly declining, with a spirit as powerful as his voice, Hugh slipped physically, but never in personality.  Mary Rose and I stood there as he died one day.

For his funeral, the choir put his robe over his chair in the center of the choir loft, back row.  It stayed there for a year, as a vibrant memorial to one who died well, acting out exactly the New Testament covenant.

Two years later, she passed with great dignity.  For her service, piano only with no organ (it had been her instrument for years), but on the organ console, her robe and a red rose.

It was just the way disciples ought to do it.  Dying well.  Living the promise.  Marching at full tempo into the valley of the shadow of death knowing that you are also marching OUT the other side, confident in the Lord's grace.

It's good to remember.  It's good to share.  It's good to wish "the same" for you and me, when we take our turns.

Blessings.