Things are really bad, and I usually now get Barb out of bed every night, when I'm screaming in pain, but nonetheless, I do try to keep fit.
To the point where today, Barb had a stubborn juice-bottle that she asked me to open.
She asked, kind of rhetorically, "What will I do when you're gone?"
My response was, "Get a good pair of channel-lock pliers, some duct tape, and some JB Weld. That'll do it."
We can delve deep into this conversational exchange, but what's the point?
The juice-top lid was staying on,
and you had to ask for aid;
“When you're gone, what will I do?”
That, my dear, is what you said.
I understand the deep emotion
that doth lie behind this plaint;
not disrespecting your devotion,
don't make me what I ain't.
Get some channel-locking pliers,
duct-tape, and some JB Weld,
and you'll find that hell's own fires
can, with these, be distant-held.
I love you, dear but am a tool
that is, at end, replaceable.
Apologies to those who left comments that went unanswered. With the spring winds come long interruptions in internet service, and I've been really, really sick. Internet works in the wee hours, but I just can't anymore.
Music from Brad Paisley, with I'm Gonna Miss Her. Please click here if the video doesn't load on your device.
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.
Music from R.E.M, with It's The End Of The World As We Know It choreographed to the engagingly goofy gamer anime, Final Fantasy.
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.
It happened again, on the morning of Monday, May 3. I died, went to Heaven, and returned (the first trip was March 14). Breathing is a real problem now, and I guess my lungs just got overwhelmed.
This time, I did not want to come back here; I was in tears at being made to return.
I haven't been well enough to write a full narrative yet, but no worries about it being forgotten in any detail. Won't happen.
It was experientially consistent with the first visit in terms of sensory fidelity and an unambiguous and logical sequence of events, though the setting was different.
It was a party, put on by Barb, in my honour, with food and entertainment and people I am meant to know. One of our current dogs, Strawberry, was there. She's a petite Bullmastiff, and in Heaven she is not petite but huge, with a window-rattling bark. And a scarlet-and-gold harness!
We all arrive at the same time. Paul said that, I think, the "we who are alive and remain" thing. That's what Barb says, anyway.
This was not a place of 'happiness', for that word denotes the existence of its opposite, and that's not the case in Heaven. The opposite isn't just gone...it never was.
In Heaven, Happy is the noun that defines the whole.
On coming back to this life, I was devastated, but was shortly given information. By God? Perhaps. By an angel, as Barb suggested? Maybe.
It didn't come in words, exactly, but it did come in words. Try to make sense of that. I can't.
There will be another trip. I was at first told that I would not return from the third time, but the 'Voice' then amended Himself to say that I would come back to tell the story.
The three trips are analogues of the Triune God; the first is something of sweeping vistas and majesty, and is a voyage of discovery ("Oh, of course...that's the way it's supposed to be.")
The first trip is being taken up into God the Father, as a wick is taken up into a candle-flame. Only the wick is not consumed, and the flame does not burn.
The second trip, described above, is being taken up into the New Life in Christ. It is an out-and-out celebration.
The third trip will be...wait for it...taken up into the Holy Ghost. I have no idea what it will be like, but look forward to finding out.
I am writing as factually and clinically as I can, without interpretation, because I truly want you, the reader, to take comfort and joy from these experiences. I suspect it may be why I still live; Barb thinks so.
So why have I been selected for this, and charged with the task of writing about it?
Darned if I know. I'm deeply honoured, don't get me wrong, but probably any of you, reading this, could do the job better.
But it's in my lap, and I will do my best. I won't write anything that didn't happen, and won't leave out anything that did.
But it's hard, because I can only describe what I experienced. I saw no New Jerusalem, no streets of gold, no angelic choirs.
I saw no Throne Room.
I did meet Jesus on the first trip, but the encounter was so laid-back that I did not realize until later whom I'd met.
I wasn't taken up into the air, and no-one wore robes or crowns. The clothes were 'nice' comfortable wear, and I saw no headgear of any kind.
What I'm trying to say...and why I have still held back from posting the narrative of the first trip...is that I don't want to undermine anyone else's picture of what Heaven will be like.
I only saw what I saw. The other stuff may be there; I simply do not have that information.
But I do have what I saw, burned indelibly into my heart.
Were it not so, I would not have told you.
I died on Monday morning,
sent Heavenward,
returned.
I saw new life
a-borning,
but have I truly earned
the right to tell of
glories
through which I have
now passed?
Can I relate the
glowing stories
of the effervescent joy
that lasts,
or should my words be
now constrained
unto an earthly plane,
speaking as though I
have remained
with those whose vision
stays the same
to see the bright
eternal age
through well-loved
words on holy page?
Music from Kool And The Gang, with Celebration. (Please click here if the video doesn't come up on your device.)
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.
There's a show on Hillsong Channel called Cafe Theology, hosted by Pastor Terry Crist. It's a good show, and episodes are filmed in...wait for it...a cafe.
In the background, for atmosphere, there are baristas, and customers talking over their drinks...and it struck me recently...
Barb and I used to do that, and I can't recall what we talked about...and if somehow those days would return, I would not know what to say.
We do talk, of course...mainly Barb talks, and I listen. It is hard for me to communicate, yes (after losing my voice I had to learn a new way to speak), but that's an excuse.
The cancer fight is devouring me. It's not like a Hallmark movie, where people reminisce and encourage one another. The fight is largely silent, waged internally (and, yes, through this blog).
And it's very, very personal; I used to draw inspiration from books and movies, but no more. I can't watch more than a few minutes of a film without impatience, and while I still read, I actually re-read, old books that are old friends, books that helped shape my soul (roll on Narnia!)
If you're still with me, you may be asking, well, how does this relate to my life?
The only thing I can tell you is that I may not be an exception, and that someone you know, in similar straits, will follow a similar path, drifting away in heart and spirit.
It's not something you did or did not do; it's not a failing in being a good friend or spouse. It's just that living so closely with one's own mortality eventually demands that coping comes from within.
It may feel unfair, but it's not something you can fix...and you don't have to, because while the conversation may falter, the love remains.
The long talks over coffee
that I could not do without;
I can't remember for the life of me...
what did we talk about?
Did we speak of future dreams,
or times that we had known?
Philosophize some hair-brained schemes...
but it seems the flower's blown,
and now I am the iron man
to my very core,
focused on survival's plan
and have become a bore,
using all my thought and breath
in harsh denial of my death.
Music from Sister Hazel, with All For You. (If your device doesn't load the video, please click here.)
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.
OK, singing I Feel Pretty when a couple of Barb's church friends dropped by, maybe over the top. But it sure helps with cancer, especially the way things are going. (How are things going? Like the guy who falls off a ten story building, and as he passes each story is heard saying So far, so good!)
"Chewy, I've got a baaad feeling about this..." (One of Barb's many nicknames is Chewbacca, for the way she looks first thing in the morning...and I'm a dead man now.)
"Could be worse...at least I'm not slow, soft, and ugly."
"Sure, I'm scared. The thought of having skinny arms and flabby triceps shakes me to the bone." (I don't have them.)
And so on.
It works for me, and that's precisely the problem. It pushes Barb away; she can't mourn as she needs to mourn, and love as she wants and needs to love.
When she told me this, not long ago, I was stunned. I had been thinking, Hey, positive attitude, keep 'em laughing and life's brighter...
But the thing is, brighter for me devalues the pain - and love - of someone else.
Can I change? Fundamentally, probably no, because I really don't feel the pathos of the situation (translation - I'm a shallow idiot). I'm OK with what's going on, and do my best to just enjoy the life I have, and not think about the future that won't be. And the laughs are genuine; a pretend-gravitas is going to be even more disrespectful to Barb that my more-than-occasional bubble-headed cheer.
But what I can do is watch what I say, and what I think, and gauge it against what Barb really needs to hear.
And right now, she doesn't need a constant stream of jokes.
She needs to be taken seriously, and I'll do my best.
But for you out there reading this...please, be mindful. I hurt someone I dearly love, and that can't be completely healed, not now. Don't go down this road. It can get lonely in the end.
Had no idea what music would go with this, but perhaps Petula Clark's Don't Sleep In The Subway does the best. (Please click here if the video doesn't load on your device.)
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.
Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.
