The phone rang at another inopportune moment: the baby crying and ready for a fresh diaper, two little girls needing encouragement at the table to choose eating over playing. I heard the familiar family answer machine message inviting the general public into a sample of Rachael’s cuteness before leaving the necessary essentials for correspondence. Then came the almost unrecognizable voice, it sounded important but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear over the baby’s needs. Freshly diapered and reswaddled, my tag-along and I returned to the answer machine, figuring I had a call to direct to Pastor through my husband. I couldn’t place what small portions of the voice I was able to distinguish before, my mind filing through names and faces. Replay and a now quiet room revealed her voice. A voice of deep hurt mixed with desperation. A voice needing a friend.
I wasn’t used to hearing her this way. She always holds herself so strong. Her years of experience carry such confidence and assurance. When someone like that takes on such a broken tone, it doesn’t matter that you just conversed the other day. All of a sudden they become masked until something in their speech is revealed. “Son, I have been trying to get a hold of you and I just can’t,” her semi-whisper broke through. “I need to talk to pastor and I don’t have his number,” her voice unmasked her tears. I was frozen. The rest became a routine. My husband, the assistant pastor was needed, but far more than that, my husband, a son… a friend, was needed.
He wasn’t responding how we thought he would. We all had high hopes. The statistics felt manageable. The promise of a distance from pain coming. The promise of mobility, healing and hope being on the horizon. The family came in as support, encouraging and praying. They got to visit and send their well-wishes in person, face to face – a rarity for such distant travelers, though close in their hearts. Then it took an unexpected turn. Health being a funny friend… or foe.
I’m going to miss him. His quirky wit. His stubborn tone. I’m going to miss the way his face lit up while watching his great grandkids. His funny remarks and commentary leaving some confused as to his sincerity. Hehe. Great Grandpa was just great grandpa – grouchy, stubborn and lovable all wrapped up in one. And he will be missed. He is missed as we say goodbye.
It just hit me all the more,
when it came through her voice.
– praying.
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