WAITING
As I grow older, I realize more and more that we are somewhat in control of our life or, as it were, our death.
When my brother at the age of sixteen was struck by a drunk driver's car, he was hospitalized in a town nine miles away from my parents but managed to stay alive until they got there and could say goodbye. He did not regain consciousness but I'm sure he heard their voices. He waited for the right time.
The same was true of my mother. I was in New York when I got the call from my older brother that Mom had had a heart attack and was in the hospital. I got the first plane I could and flew to Kansas.
My brother and his wife picked me up as the airport in Wichita and took me to the hospital. I was ushered into her room where we spoke briefly among the tubes and machines. I stroked her hair and kissed her several times and finally she said, "Let's get out of here," and attempted to sit up. The nurses subdued her and I was ushered out of the room. Only to be informed a few seconds later that she was gone. There was the usual grief counselling from the hospital chaplain and a prayer.
To my way of thinking, my mother had waited until I arrived to depart this earth. It had been almost an entire day since I got the initial call, but she wanted to say good-bye. She waited for the right time.
And on to Fabian. He was seated on the sofa as I prepared dinner in the kitchen and when I brought him his plate, he was simply gone. And I believe he had had enough of the strife that went with his day to day living. He chose to go quickly and peacefully while I was out of the room. He waited for the right time
And those are my three prime examples of passing on in your own time frame. I hope it is true. I believe it is. As the poem "Invictus" states, "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." Wait for the right time.
When my brother at the age of sixteen was struck by a drunk driver's car, he was hospitalized in a town nine miles away from my parents but managed to stay alive until they got there and could say goodbye. He did not regain consciousness but I'm sure he heard their voices. He waited for the right time.
The same was true of my mother. I was in New York when I got the call from my older brother that Mom had had a heart attack and was in the hospital. I got the first plane I could and flew to Kansas.
My brother and his wife picked me up as the airport in Wichita and took me to the hospital. I was ushered into her room where we spoke briefly among the tubes and machines. I stroked her hair and kissed her several times and finally she said, "Let's get out of here," and attempted to sit up. The nurses subdued her and I was ushered out of the room. Only to be informed a few seconds later that she was gone. There was the usual grief counselling from the hospital chaplain and a prayer.
To my way of thinking, my mother had waited until I arrived to depart this earth. It had been almost an entire day since I got the initial call, but she wanted to say good-bye. She waited for the right time.
And on to Fabian. He was seated on the sofa as I prepared dinner in the kitchen and when I brought him his plate, he was simply gone. And I believe he had had enough of the strife that went with his day to day living. He chose to go quickly and peacefully while I was out of the room. He waited for the right time
And those are my three prime examples of passing on in your own time frame. I hope it is true. I believe it is. As the poem "Invictus" states, "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." Wait for the right time.
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