The Struggle Between Life and Death

September 19, 2011

The day my Rob's life on earth hung between the balance of life and death.

It's such a very thin line...

...something I never really understood until that day.

The day of struggle.

The struggle Rob's body was making to recover from whatever made him unconscious.

The struggle my mind was making to start accepting what I just knew was coming.

The struggle to tell his children that their daddy was not coming home from the hospital this time.

The struggle to call his parents and tell them that another son was dying.

(Rob's brother, Eric - at almost 21 yrs. old - died in 1985).

The struggle to execute decisions that had already been made but I had to authorize.

They will remain only shared with those in them, but I took 7 pictures that day.  

I knew I would need to see them later.  And I have.  

Around 12 hours after we first arrived at the hospital, I took one picture of Rob by himself.  He was hooked up to a ventilator by the time I took the picture so wires and tubes are everywhere.

I took one of Anna and Rob.  Anna's head is snuggled up to her daddy's side and over his hand.  

She was crying.

I took three of the boys as they kissed, hugged, and told their daddy good-bye and how much they loved him.

I took one of Crystol as she, through her tears, kissed her daddy.

And the last picture I have of my Rob alive is around 8:30 p.m. on September 19, 2011.  It is a photo of my Rob with both of his daughters - Anna on one side, Crystol on the other.  

Each daughter is holding one of his hands.

Those photos have helped me to comprehend and confirm over and over and over that we did all we could do.  Those photos have helped me over and over and over know that my Rob was tired.  Those photos have helped me over and over and over know that Rob fought as hard as he could to overcome all of the issues and that the doctors, nurses, and his family and friends did all they could to help him fight.  Those photos have helped me over and over and over know that he had fought all he could fight and for Rob, 

his race was truly finished.  

Those photos have helped me over and over and over KNOW 

that for Rob,

death was the most merciful thing that could have happened. 

For those of us being left behind, it did not feel merciful,

but for Rob by that point,

it was.

Over and over and over that day, I prayed for 

STRENGTH, MERCY, and GRACE.

At times, all I could do was quietly whisper the words,

"strength, mercy, and grace."

And here we are, a year later.

Proof that the prayer was answered.

We made it through and we are still making it.

But there are still times when the struggle knocks me to my knees...

and all I can do is quietly whisper the words,

"strength, mercy, and grace."