The Years of Tears and His Glory

CHAPTER I

GOD, HELP ME!

I n the early morning hours of August 5, 1996, I was torn from a peaceful sleep into a nightmare of reality. I surfaced through layers of darkness to instantaneous horror. I felt as though there was a vacuum within the room, and I thought the walls and the ceiling were about to be sucked upward from an explosive sound that I could not identify. I was out of bed and on my feet before I was fully awake. I said, Jim, wake up. Something has happened. It sounds like a helicopter landed on the roof.

The nightlight from the bathroom helped me to see my way as I ran to the bedroom window. Jerking the vertical blinds apart, I saw only the moonlight as it fell to the ground below and beyond our window. I was very frightened. Only then did I realize Jim had not answered me.

I turned on the overhead light, and I called his name again and again. I could see that he was lying on his stomach. This, in itself, was unusual, as he never slept that way. His face was buried into the pillow. His arms were stretched out horizontally from side to side and bent forward at the elbows. His body was straight as an arrow.

Again I called his name. Nothing. I screamed his name over and over… all the time saying, No. No. I tried to lift his shoulders to turn him over onto his back, but it was impossible. He was 6 ft. 3 in. and weighed approximately 230 lbs. He was lifeless. I remember thinking this is what is meant by dead weight. I was like a mad woman as crazy thoughts ran through my mind. In total disbelief, I became hysterical.

Frantically, I dialed 911. Fighting for control, I gave the dispatcher directions to the house.

Turning back to Jim, I struggled to lift his shoulders, and again I tried to turn him over onto his back. He was so heavy. I could not do it. Over and over I screamed his name, and then I began to cry, God, help me. Give me the strength I need. Time stood still and held no meaning. In this whole world, it was only the two of us… Jim and I.

Then God granted my prayerful request, and He gave me the strength I needed. As I looked into Jim’s face, I remembered that someone had once told me the eyes were open in death. His eyes were closed. He had the same little grin on his face he often wore when he was teasing me.

I tried to find his pulse and found nothing. I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to pull him forward and lift him up just a little. He was not breathing. I tried to open his mouth, but it was impossible. I continued to scream his name, as I patted his face and moved his arms. Nothing… no response. I kept saying, No. No. No. Please God, let Jim answer me.

From the beginning of our marriage we had slept nude. Now he was lying there, so vulnerable and so unprotected. I knew help would come very soon. I also knew that somehow, someway I must cover him. I began to talk to him and to talk to God. Frantically, I grabbed a pair of his boxer shorts. His legs were heavy and hard to control. With God given strength, I at 5 ft. 3 in. and 113 lbs. was able to lift one leg. Exhausted, I repeated the process all over again. Then I lifted his torso and pulled the shorts up around his body and snapped them at the waist. I was able to do all of this before anyone arrived. I would not, could not, let him be seen any other way. There was too much dignity about him for me to ever let that happen. Then I heard the doorbell. I didn’t want to answer it. I didn’t want to let them come in, as they would bring reality through the door with them. Numbly, I got up from the side of the bed and walked through the house. The firefighters were the first to arrive. I tried to unlock the door. My hands were shaking so badly that it took several tries before I could manipulate the lock. I led them to the master bedroom. Soon, more people came into the room. They worked over Jim for a few minutes.

With a shared look they stood up, placed him on a gurney and took him to an ambulance that was parked near our driveway. I followed a short distance behind. It was then that I saw a police car with two police officers standing nearby. No one said very much to me. I looked into the ambulance, and my mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing. It was as though I was another person, only an observer.

A woman was working over Jim. I could see he was not responding. She looked at the others and shook her head in a negative manner. One of the men said they were going to the hospital, and I was to meet them there.

One by one they left, taking Jim with them. Only then was it possible for me to get my car out of the garage. I drove myself to the hospital.

I had not been there before, and I was not familiar with the building. It was very dark, and I stumbled as I tried several doors before I found one that was unlocked. By then it must have been around 3:00 am. I entered the hospital, and I looked around for someone to help me. I saw a man standing in front of a closed door. I recognized him as one of the firefighters who had been to my home. Slowly, I walked up to him. He told me the doctor would be with me in a few minutes. In my heart I knew my husband was in the next room.

After what seemed a very long time, a man came out of the room. He said he was the doctor on duty and that Jim had died. He said he had noticed a faint incision on Jim’s chest. He asked how many years it had been since Jim had open-heart surgery. I replied, Eighteen years. Obviously surprised, he echoed, Eighteen years! You were lucky to have had him that long. I stared at him, trying to comprehend what he had just said to me. He offered no words of comfort. He did not put his arms around me. In a very matter of fact, business like way, he told me someone would help me make the necessary arrangements for my husband’s body. I then asked the doctor, May I see my husband before I leave the hospital? Reluctantly, he agreed.

He opened the door and remained there as he watched and waited for me to leave. Looking into the room, I could see Jim lying there. He was still on the gurney. He looked at peace. It was as though he had just dozed off for a few moments, as he sometimes did. Frozen inside, I still had the feeling if I called his name he would open his eyes and give me that familiar smile. I walked over to him. I patted his face, bent down and kissed him goodbye. I did not want to leave him. I knew it would be several hours before I saw him again. I also knew what he would be subjected to, and I cringed inside. I forced myself to turn away. As I walked past the doctor I thought,

How I wish you had given me a few moments of privacy. I wanted, and needed, to be alone with Jim.

A woman’s voice penetrated my thoughts as she introduced herself as a hospital employee. I don’t remember her name or how I was directed to her. I tried to focus on what she was saying. She spoke softly and was very kind. She told me she would call the funeral home of my choice.

Thankful that all of the arrangements had been made years before, I told her his final resting place would be in Sapulpa, Oklahoma. In my numbed state of mind, I could not recall the name of the funeral home. She handed me a list of names and phone numbers, one of which I recognized. After the call was completed, she told me Jim’s body would be embalmed in Tulsa and then taken to Sapulpa.

Gently, and in great detail, like one speaking to a child, she told me to pack everything I would need during the next few days for my husband and me. Realizing I was not grasping what she was saying, she told me to select a suit and tie for Jim to wear. She said the people at the funeral home would need them as soon as possible. My mind did not want to accept what she was saying, but I knew I had no choice.

Days later, I made a return trip to the hospital. I did not remember the lady’s name, but I did remember the sound of her voice. I wanted to thank her for her kindness that night. I learned she was not at work, and so I wrote a short note and left it with the plant that I had brought for her.

Thoughts filled my mind as I drove back to the house. I knew I would be staying with my daughter and son-in-law until after the funeral. In that moment I felt the full impact of being alone. The life I had known with Jim was finished. For me, nothing in this world would ever be the same as it once was. A feeling of emptiness swept through me. When I made my return journey to Grove it would be the beginning of my living alone.

I walked back into the master bedroom and looked at the large king sized brass bed. My mind refused to accept the events of the last few hours. I wanted to believe none of this had really happened. It was as though I was standing apart from myself, and I watched as I went through the motions of doing what had to be done.

Then I saw the muddy footprints on the carpet. Reality swept over me and I knew, although my mind didn’t want to accept what had just taken place… it was not a dream, it was not a nightmare, it was true. I remembered there was mud on the men’s shoes and the wheels of the gurney when they came to the front door. The August days had been so hot and dry that Jim had turned the sprinklers on to water through the night.

In their haste the men must have bypassed the sidewalk that ran between the drive and the front porch. Wearily, I looked at the mess that needed to be cleaned up before I left the house. I got the scrub brush and the carpet cleaner, and I sprayed and scrubbed until the mud was gone. Then, I ran the vacuum sweeper until the carpet was nearly dry. Finished at last, I gathered my courage to select our clothes and pack my suitcase.

I walked into the large master bedroom closet. I immediately saw something quite out of the ordinary, at least for Jim. In the middle of the closet floor, in front of the double rows of my shoes, I saw his newest pair of tennis shoes. He had worn them only a few times. They were not in line with my shoes. Instead, they were parallel to mine, with the toes pointing to the back of the closet and toward the east.

Jim, always neat and meticulous about his clothing, had his own side of the closet. By his choice, he never put anything on my side.

Awareness, understanding and insight swept over me. In that moment of clarity, I felt certain that somehow Jim had known he was leaving me. This was his sign to me, his reassurance to me and his personal goodbye to me. I fell on my knees and picked up his shoes. I embraced them as one would a newborn baby. For a few moments I held them close.

Time moved very slowly. I moved like a robot as I performed the tasks that needed to be done. I did not want to call anyone before 6:00 am, since I knew that sleep would elude all of us for a long time to come. I knew the key people to call who would notify others. Some, I wanted to call personally.

Knowing the pain I was about to inflict, I called my daughter last. In my mind I will hear the echo of her scream for the rest of my life. I heard the phone drop. Her husband quickly picked it up, and I told him what had happened. He told me not to drive to Sapulpa. They would leave immediately.

Suddenly, I felt very old and tired. Slowly, I walked into the kitchen. The counter tops were filled with tomatoes and cantaloupes that Jim had brought in from the garden the night before. He had washed everything and was going to give most of it away. I decided to follow through and get rid of everything before I left. I began to bag it for those who would be coming to the house that morning. At the time it seemed to be the right thing to do. Perhaps they would pass it on to someone else if they were unable to eat it themselves.

I sat down at the desk while I waited for my daughter and her husband. Deep in thought I picked up a pen and paper and I began to write:

ANGELS PASSED THIS WAY THIS MORNING

Angels passed this way this morning and they

saw us lying there.

The way we looked so happy, sleeping

peacefully without a care.

Last night I wrapped my arms around you and I

said, I love you so.

More than twenty years of heaven. It was too

soon to let you go.

I said, "I’ll