I have to post this story because I love it. I got called to a DOA or unattended death where a 70+ year old male had died suddenly and unexpectedly. As I entered the home, the deputy stopped me because the family was praying. I stood and listened to their prayers and added my own. I was introduced to his sons and his wife, who was seated at the kitchen table. I knelt beside her and took her hand and told her I was sorry for her loss (the most inadequate words I've ever spoken). I didn't realize at the time I was to sit like that for the next 2 hours. She held my hand as if her life depended on it.
Her sons were grown and in their 50s. They tried to help their mom by telling her different things like, "God knows best." "Don't cry as God knows what He's doing." "Dad is in a better place, so we shouldn't cry for him." Now, I know that each one of those statements was to bring her comfort, but they didn't. (BTW - comments like these never bring peace to anyone.)
She told me that in two weeks they would have celebrated 50 years of marriage. They were looking forward to it. He was her only love. She'd never kissed another. Wow!
At every sentence her sons would say, she'd turn and stare so deeply into my eyes that tears stug the back of them. See, I can't join in their grief. For one thing, I'd never survive in this job if I did. The other is not to rob them of their grief and make them feel that they must rescue me. But I came close to tears with this sweet lady who just wanted to hold her husband one last time.
With each stare she'd grip my hand even harder (my ring was imprinted into my fingers for several hours after I left her). Her stare was soul searching. I've never experienced anything like it. When I left I gave her hug and left her with the words, "God knows your pain and He understands your tears. Don't hold them back. He too weeps with you and your pain. God bless and keep you." No one else heard my words to her. She still had my hand and I knew that as I spoke every bone was being broken by her attempt at self-control. She looked at me again and a tear fell down her face. She reluctently let go of my hand and I reluctently left.
I've never been on a call that touched me so deeply. I've never forgotten her face or her eyes. I've often wondered if I didn't get a glimpse of how intense the eyes of God are. I couldn't look away - I wanted to and yet I didn't. She could see to the very depths of my heart, and I hope she saw it breaking with hers - not to the same degree but breaking all the same.
This is where I love my job. Sounds crazy, huh?! But I do. I get to meet people, even the ones that are no longer living. I get the honor of hearing the stories of their loved one. I get to laugh with them, hold their hand, dry their tears, and intrude on one of life's most intimate moments and leave as quietly as I came. I love hearing the stories. They are powerful - especially to the ones left behind. It makes me cherish mine a little more every time. I'll never forget this lady or my time with her or what I felt.
Her sons were grown and in their 50s. They tried to help their mom by telling her different things like, "God knows best." "Don't cry as God knows what He's doing." "Dad is in a better place, so we shouldn't cry for him." Now, I know that each one of those statements was to bring her comfort, but they didn't. (BTW - comments like these never bring peace to anyone.)
She told me that in two weeks they would have celebrated 50 years of marriage. They were looking forward to it. He was her only love. She'd never kissed another. Wow!
At every sentence her sons would say, she'd turn and stare so deeply into my eyes that tears stug the back of them. See, I can't join in their grief. For one thing, I'd never survive in this job if I did. The other is not to rob them of their grief and make them feel that they must rescue me. But I came close to tears with this sweet lady who just wanted to hold her husband one last time.
With each stare she'd grip my hand even harder (my ring was imprinted into my fingers for several hours after I left her). Her stare was soul searching. I've never experienced anything like it. When I left I gave her hug and left her with the words, "God knows your pain and He understands your tears. Don't hold them back. He too weeps with you and your pain. God bless and keep you." No one else heard my words to her. She still had my hand and I knew that as I spoke every bone was being broken by her attempt at self-control. She looked at me again and a tear fell down her face. She reluctently let go of my hand and I reluctently left.
I've never been on a call that touched me so deeply. I've never forgotten her face or her eyes. I've often wondered if I didn't get a glimpse of how intense the eyes of God are. I couldn't look away - I wanted to and yet I didn't. She could see to the very depths of my heart, and I hope she saw it breaking with hers - not to the same degree but breaking all the same.
This is where I love my job. Sounds crazy, huh?! But I do. I get to meet people, even the ones that are no longer living. I get the honor of hearing the stories of their loved one. I get to laugh with them, hold their hand, dry their tears, and intrude on one of life's most intimate moments and leave as quietly as I came. I love hearing the stories. They are powerful - especially to the ones left behind. It makes me cherish mine a little more every time. I'll never forget this lady or my time with her or what I felt.
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