Not the same

Sunday marked 9 months since Ben’s death. In those 9 months so many things have changed. Change is inevitable. Life doesn’t ever stay the same for very long. As much as we want things to stay the same, they can’t and they don’t. We have an expectation that certain things will change over time. Children grow up. We age. Our salaries increase. Often, we look forward to change. Whether it is a new job or a new school. Getting a new car or moving into a new house. When the change is our choice we are ready for it and are excited about it. But when a change is forced upon you it can throw your life into chaos. That’s what happened in my life the day Ben died.

It started the day before. I got to the hospital in the early afternoon on October 30th. In Michigan that was a big day. It was the day of the annual Michigan – Michigan State football game. In my world it was a day that would change my life forever. I entered Ben’s room in the ICU. The TV was on and tuned to the football game. The ICU doctor came in shortly after I arrived. She pulled a stool over to sit on as she talked to me. I was sitting next to Ben. It was at that time that she delivered the worst news I had ever been given. Earlier in the week the same doctor had told me that she was concerned for Ben. I put out a request for prayer for him. The pastor at the church I grew up in called a special prayer meeting to meet to pray for Ben.

But by Saturday his condition had not improved and continued to worsen. The doctor came into the room and I said “It’s not good”. She sat next to me and pulled up two of Ben’s chest x-rays that were several days apart. The most recent one showed that his lungs were completely ravaged by the COVID. On a chest x-ray you want to see black for the lungs. Most of what showed up on Ben’s was white. Ben’s pulse rate had increased again and was consistently in the 120s. His oxygen saturation was in the 80s. The doctor explained what COVID does to the lungs, making it so the lungs can’t work. I asked her what kind of prognosis for recovery she could give me–maybe a 5% chance and she said she couldn’t even give him that much chance. I asked how long he could be like that and she said it could be a week or two or could be a few days. Eventually the doctor left the room and it was just Ben and me.

I sat there in the chair stunned. How had things gone so horribly wrong in just a few short weeks? Why were the prayers for healing not being answered? What was I going to do without Ben? How much longer would I have Ben with me? But the biggest and hardest question I had to face is how to tell our 12 year old son that his dad wasn’t going to live much longer? I sat in the chair next to Ben for a few hours after the doctor left. I cried quite a few tears and was pretty much numb from the news. After awhile I decided to go home. I got home knowing that my life was never going to be the same. Sabin was playing on the computer. I didn’t know how to tell him his dad’s prognosis. My plan had been to go to church the next day. So I texted the pastor and asked if we could meet with him before the service. I needed help breaking the news to Sabin.

We never made it to church that day. My sister had come over and we had both fallen asleep on the couches. I was awakened at about 4:50 am by a phone call from the hospital. The nurse told me that Ben would not make it until after church. His blood pressure was tanking and they did a procedure to help with that. But that was only a temporary measure. Ben’s time on earth was going to come to an end very soon. I woke Sabin up and called Callie. I texted the pastor of my former church as well as the pastor of my new church. My sister drove me and the kids to the hospital. We gathered around Ben’s bed. I played some songs from Acapella. Ben loved their music. The crazy thing is that when I played the songs, his oxygen saturation went up. I think it was him telling me thank you for playing him some of his favorite music.

We had arrived at the hospital sometime before 6 am. Within an hour and a half Ben had left this earth. As you can imagine there was ugly crying that took place in that room that day. A daughter and son would no longer have their dad. A wife would no longer have her husband. And a son-in-law would no longer have his father-in-law. As hard as that time was I am so very grateful that we all could be there in the room the last few hours of Ben’s life here on earth. I can’t imagine not having that time together as a family with Ben. Even though he couldn’t respond. I believe he knew we were there. I also believe that he heard the doctor give me that horrible news the day before. And that his last act of love for me was not making me have to make a decision to remove life support and let him go or lingering for a week or two. I knew I couldn’t go to the hospital every day knowing that there was no hope of recovery.

So many things are not the same and definitely not as they should be. Sabin and I are adapting to many of the changes. It is hard though when certain things happen or come up and I have to face the fact that Ben is not here. That I have to handle everything without him. On Saturday I had to go pick Sabin up from camp. That is something that Ben always did. In fact many years he would take a couple of days off from work to go up early and help with IT stuff and hang out at the camp. I very much missed having him here to do that. Even with all of the changes that we have had and are certain to have in the future there is someone that will never change. Hebrews 13:8 says “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” No matter how much changes, Jesus never does. I don’t like change and adapt slowly to change more often than I would like to admit. Even in the midst of so much change, I can rest in the fact that I have a Savior that doesn’t change.