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Three years ago my husband was riding his motorcycle. It was late on a Friday night and he had worked the night shift at the restaurant. Instead of coming straight home, he was headed to the restaurant chain’s other location across town to walk the manager out with the nightly deposit since there had been some robberies in the area. About two miles from the restaurant, a car pulled out in front of him and he t-boned the side. I received the call about the accident at 3:09 am on Saturday morning.
I barely remember driving to the hospital and it is a wonder I did not wreck myself trying to see through my foggy red eyes. When I got there, the doctor explained it was a horrible accident and every bone in his body had been broken. He had lost 30 pints of blood and had swelling around his brain. I begged them to keep him alive long enough for our daughter to get here from south Alabama so she could say goodbye. It was a four hour drive but she finally arrived. No amount of preparing could be done when I had to tell her the truth and walk her into his ICU Room. She was only eleven at the time and there, on a hospital bed was her daddy bandaged up from head to toe. Remarkably, his face was unscathed. The nurses had packed ice around his head to keep the swelling down. There were tubes and machines of every sort hooked up to him.
In his hands was the bandanna he had been wearing under his helmet. The machine next to me was playing the backdrop music it seemed to my daughter’s tearful goodbye. It had a steady beep, beep, and beep and as I glanced over at it, the lines that indicate vital signs were barely moving up or down. The nurse stood in the corner as we said what we had to say to the body on the bed. I removed the bandanna from his hands, held them close and kissed his fingertips because they were all that was visible amongst the gauze.
With my arm around my daughter’s slight frame, we walked out of the room. It was then that I heard the last long beep of the machine and looked to see the lines on its screen go flat. The nurse had turned everything off and that was it; he was gone.
God tells us that when we die, we will depart in peace. (Luke 2:29) I knew the moment I saw the flat lines of the monitor that my husband and my little girl’s daddy had departed in peace. There was no suffering or struggle in his death. The flat lines that day reminded me also that he had gone on to be with the Lord and he will be forever surrounded in God’s love.
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