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Jacques Story

by Denise Pienaar
11/16/22
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This is an account of the events which lead up to the death of the man who had been a part of my life for 42 years. We had dated for three years and celebrated our 39th anniversary not long before he passed. Some people may find some of it difficult to believe. Some may not like what they read. Be that as it may – all of what I have described is how it happened and is the truth as my family and I experienced it.

Jacques and I met when I was 20 and he was 26. It was a blind date about which neither of us had felt very enthusiastic. But somehow, we had been propelled into it, and I was pacing up and down, a bundle of nerves, waiting for him to arrive. I wanted this over as quickly as possible as my experience of blind dates up to that point, had been rather less than positive.

He duly arrived, and I opened the door to find myself face to face with the most gorgeous looking man I had ever laid eyes on. The man who was to become my husband! Tall, dark and very handsome, with blue-grey eyes and an olive skin, as far as looks went, he ticked every box.

Well, well! Maybe this day wasn’t going to be so bad after all!

I hesitate to say that it was love at first sight, but certainly there was a definite chemistry and I found him interesting and easy to talk to. But what did he think of me?

Sometime later when we spoke about that first meeting, we discovered that our reactions on seeing each other had been remarkably similar. He told me that his heart had done a double somersault before righting itself so that he could greet me in a civilized manner and not stand gaping speechlessly like a beached fish!

From there, as they say, the rest was history. Three years later we were married and two years after that, we became the proud parents of twins. I wish I could say that it had been plain sailing. But anyone who has had to cope with two babies at once can attest – twins are not for the fainthearted! After struggling to be the best mother ever, I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed God and I needed Him now! I committed my life to Jesus only to discover that my beloved husband had no intention of joining me on this wonderful journey with the Lord. Ever! Or so he thought! For the duration of our married life, I prayed that he would give his heart to God, and for the duration of our marriage, he stubbornly resisted.

Jacques and I had our ups and downs and there were times when I could cheerfully have strangled him! But I am sure there were many times when he must have felt the same way about me. As our marriage drifted perilously close to the rocks, I began to wonder whether it could survive. But we persevered, worked out our differences and learnt to compromise - as most married couples must do.

My twins had had their eighth birthday when we welcomed our third son into our lives and our family was complete.

Many years later, with all three of our children grown up, I was awakened at about 1.00 in the morning. With little or no recollection of getting out of bed, I stumbled through to the bathroom. Jacques was awake and saw me go in. Thirty seconds or so later, when I came out, I paused and looked at him in alarm. He seemed to be staring fixedly at the ceiling and almost looked…. dead.

“Jacques?”

There was no response and he continued to stare unblinkingly through half closed eyes.

“Jacques???” I repeated, a little louder.

No response.

“JACQUES!!!” I bellowed. And still there was no response.

I backed away, and one thought was in my mind. This. Is. Not. Happening!

I ran screaming down the passage, which awakened my two sons Justin and Grant. They both shot out of their rooms, their eyes wide with shock.

“Mom! Mom! What’s the matter?”

“It’s Dad,” I gasped. “It’s Dad! It’s Dad!” I couldn’t seem to say anything else. “It’s Dad!”

Justin, who is a trained medic ran into the room. “Mom!” he yelled. “Call CMR!” (Cape Medical Response)

In my panic, I tripped over the dog, couldn’t find the phone number, dropped the phone, and to top it all, my shaking hands refused to dial the number. All I wanted to do was run. Run and not stop running. Far, far away.

While I was scrambling to try to phone CMR, Justin turned dazedly to Grant. “I think he’s dead,” he said almost to himself. “I think he’s dead.”

It is one thing for a paramedic to deal with a patient in the course of his job, but quite another when the patient is a member of his own family. Justin acted on instinct more than logic and took Jacques’ head in his hands, turning it gently from side to side.

Jacques gave a gasp and opened his eyes. He was back. I walked back into the bedroom to find him sitting ashen faced on the edge of the bed. But he was alive!

Afterwards I asked him what he had experienced. That was when he told me that he had seen me go into the bathroom, but he didn’t see me come out. He told me he had been in a place of perfect peace, in a white room with a door. He couldn’t see me, but he could hear me screaming. He didn’t want to come back, but he had to. God wasn’t done with him – not yet anyway.

I was told that his heart had probably gone into fibrillation. Had I not woken up when I did, he would have quietly died. Justin turning his head from side to side had jolted his heart back into its normal rhythm and Jacques was given a bit more time to make right with God. Of all the minutes in the night that I could have gotten up – God got me up at that precise moment to bring him back. This gave us about eight or nine more precious months together before our world was shattered into a million pieces.

The 16 of July 2019 is a date which will remain forever etched in my mind. That was the day that Johnny Clegg (a famous South African musician) died. It was also the day that my life as I knew it, changed, abruptly and irrevocably. For that was the day that Jacques was diagnosed with cancer. Untreatable and inoperable. Terminal! In that one defining moment, our lives changed forever. This dreaded disease had crept up on us with insidious stealth and struck with a cruel and brutal force that left us floundering in a sea of stunned uncertainty.

“What is the prognosis?” I scarcely recognised my own voice as I asked the question that we really did not want to hear the answer to.

The oncologist, obviously used to imparting this kind of mind-numbing news, looked at us with a strange mixture of compassion and detachment.

“Without chemotherapy? I give him six months. At the most.”

“And with chemotherapy?” I asked.

She shrugged. “A year. Maybe two. If you’re lucky. I’m so sorry.”

Somehow, we stumbled out of her rooms and made our way to the car. Neither of us said a word as the softly falling rain mingled with the tears on our cheeks. For several minutes we sat in silence, staring sightlessly and disbelievingly as the world continued around us, oblivious to our pain and shock. How had this happened? A week ago, we had been blissfully unaware. And now we faced the battle of our lives.

The days which followed, passed by in a blur of tears, disbelief, anger, fear, confusion and bewilderment. We tried to stay positive. We tried to have faith and believe that we would beat this. But in the face of such devastating news, it wasn’t easy.

The cancer had started in the colon where it had remained undetected for who knows how long. By the time it was discovered, it had metastasized to his liver and there was precious little that could be done about it. Colon cancer is the easiest to treat, but the most difficult to detect. If only we had known! If only we had checked! If only we had caught it in time. If only, if only, if only! But life can be unforgiving and leaves no room for ‘if only’.

Chemotherapy was suggested, not as a cure, but to buy us more time. I was not in favour of it, but with mortality staring him in the face, Jacques felt that there was no other option. Before we could begin that, however, the carcinogenic mass in his colon had to be surgically removed. The entire right side of his colon, along with its pernicious disease had to be taken out.

Life is fragile and death is inevitable. We all know that. Yet, somehow, despite this knowledge, we never really believe that it will touch us. Until it does. Death can be defined in one word. Separation. Separation from our bodies, from our material possessions, from our loved ones, from our home, from this earth, and from all that we know and hold dear. It is a journey we take alone. No loved ones accompany us. No friends come along for moral support. The only one who will be with us when we depart this earth is God. We may think that we can live without God. But to die without God is too terrible to contemplate.

Jacques knew that his time on earth was limited. As ill as he was, he loved his family enough to ensure that all his affairs were in order. His last few months on earth were a time of introspection. A time of mending fences. A time of forgiveness. And a time of making sure that he was right with God. Like the thief on the cross, he confessed that he was a sinner, and that only through the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ, could he be forgiven and stand holy and righteous before Almighty God. And as he prayed, he experienced the peace that surpasses all understanding. (Philippians 4:7) Truly he was a child of God. Truly he was forgiven.

As the days and weeks progressed, we watched helplessly as he grew weaker and weaker. My once strong and fit husband was now feeble and unable to do anything for himself. Even speaking required an effort which left him exhausted. Once, as I held his hand, he looked straight into my eyes and in a thin, dry whisper he said, “I’m dying.” With tears steaming unchecked down my face, I stroked his hair and told him that I loved him. “I love you too,” he whispered. Those were probably the last intelligible words that I heard from him.

The six months without chemo, turned out to be less than four months with chemo.

Three days before his death, Justin and I experienced what I can only believe to have been a spiritual battle - maybe a last desperate attempt for the powers of darkness to claim his soul. Or maybe to cause fear and doubt to cloud our minds.

It was probably about 8.00 or 9.00 in the evening and Justin, who as the medic bore the brunt of caring for Jacques, was about to go across to the cottage where he lives with his wife and child and retire for the night. Not two seconds later he was back, his face as white as a sheet and sheer terror in his eyes. “Mom! There’s something out there!”

“What sort of something?” I enquired.

“A noise,” he said. “A terrible noise.”

I walked out onto the patio and turned to him. “A noise? What kind of noise? And where did it come from?”

He pointed to the corner of the garden. “Over there,” he said. “And it was like nothing I have ever heard before!”

I was about to tell him that whatever it was, it must have gone, when I heard it too. It was indeed a noise that was not of this world, but it wasn’t coming from the garden, but from the little hills across the way – probably about half a kilometre as the crow flies.

It was a cross between a scream and a roar, demonic, evil and spine-chilling. A sound which could freeze your blood and make your hair stand on end.

I turned and pointed in the direction from whence it came. Without shouting, I spoke calmly but authoritatively. “I have authority over you!” I said. (Luke 10:19) “I know what you want but you will NOT have my husband’s soul! He is a child of God and he will go to be with the Lord, in heaven for all eternity. Depart from here you foul, evil demons. Go! In the name of Jesus! You will not come near this property. You will not harm anyone or anything on this property. You will leave this area NOW and not return. We are covered and protected by the precious blood of Jesus.”

I think we heard that scream/roar about three or four times and it sounded as though there was more than one entity – maybe two or three. But it is difficult to say for sure. What I am sure about however, is that when I walked out onto the patio, without me even saying a word, ‘they’ had already fled to the hills, and were screaming and roaring defiantly from there, trying to instil fear and terror in my heart. They did not succeed. I claimed my God-given authority over them and told them to leave. They had no choice but to obey. The bible tells us ‘Resist the devil and he will flee from you.’ (James 4:7) I resisted, and they fled.

If I was the only one who heard it, you might be justified in thinking that I am crazy. But Justin and I both heard it. And I think both of us are relatively sane.

Jacques’ suffering was immense but mercifully he went fairly quickly. On 7 November 2019, after we had settled him for the night, I laid hands on him and prayed. My prayer was a simple one. I asked God to release him from his suffering. To take him by the hand and lead him into heaven. The words had scarcely left my lips when he gave a final sigh and was gone. I stared in amazement and disbelief. And the thought came to my mind – “I’ve never had a prayer answered this quickly before!”

I called out to my other two sons, Grant and Lyle. “I think he’s stopped breathing,” I said.

Lyle took one look at him. “Call Justin!” he said.

Within minutes Justin was by his side, feeling for a pulse. His head was bowed, and he said nothing. There we stood, my three sons and I, not saying a word.

“Has he… gone?” I whispered at last.

Justin didn’t reply but continued to hold Jacques’ hand.

“Has he gone?” I repeated.

He lifted his head and looked at me with tears pouring down his face.

“Yes, mom,” he said. “He’s gone.”

I believe that as Jacques took that final breath, he passed into the glorious presence of God. I see him as young, strong and handsome – just as he was on the day I met him. I believe that one day we will be together again in the glorious and incorruptible bodies that God has promised us.

He will wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there will be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. (Rev 21:4)

You can live without God. But you cannot die without God. None of us are promised tomorrow and death can take us unexpectedly. Jacques was fortunate to have been given the chance to make right with God before death claimed him. But in Christ Jesus death could not hold him.

Where O death is your victory? Where O death is your sting? (1 Cor 15:55)

Jacques, my best friend, my soul mate, and the love of my life – Rest in peace, until we are re-united in glory in the presence of our Lord in heaven.

Jacques Pienaar (14.10.1951 – 7.11.2019)