In the Last Days I Feel the Breath of Resurrection

A weekend as a CNA in a nursing home.

Dusty was good.

Friday night I am tired and pissed, when they tell me he is dying. I don't want to go in because I wouldn't know what to do, but it's my job. Once I get in the room I don't want to leave because there is Presence here. I sit and hold his hand while his family is gone, and I stumble over the words that need to be said. He is a good listener, and I sing to him when I run out of words.

Dusty and I have this in common - our lives are being transformed. In my Life Transformation Group, Carlos and I are soaking in the first half of 2 Corinthians. I remind Dusty of his resurrection, and tell him to hang in there. I pray hard for comfort and watch, amazed, as we are swallowed by life.

"The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body." Where he is going, he won't have to lie naked while a stranger cleans filth from his private areas.

But Dusty doesn't die Friday night.

I come to work Saturday night hoping Dusty had died during the day. It would relieve the tension of facing death and looking for life, of repeating words but having nothing new to add. How does God deal with the strain of constantly bringing his children home? Does he ever take a day off; and I forgot that God is infinite.

But Dusty doesn't die Saturday, and when I get to work his family is there. He dies at 1:30 on Sunday morning. I spend the night bringing coffee and chairs to his family. There must be twenty of them, and they stay for hours, laughing and crying and sharing memories. I suddenly have the urge to tell Dusty what a cool family he has, but I'll never get the chance. I try not to cry, but sometimes a tear escapes. I have 13 other people to take care of.

When they're finally tired, his family goes home. It's time for the last care I can give him. I don't know where Dusty is, but he isn't in this room. I wash his cold body and change the linens to prepare for the undertakers. I don't know where Dusty is, but I know who he's with. And I know what Dusty is still like. He always said thank you to me, sometimes twice. When you're as vulnerable as he was, that is no small thing.

It's an act of mercy when my shift ends. I drive from the parking lot into the Sunday morning sunrise. "Papa died Sunday," Sam whispers.

Dusty is being recreated, and he is good.

Reviews

[Satellite Heart]

I thought it was pretty good. But It was a little quick moving and hard to follow.

[After the Blackbird Sin..]

Melon Choly - Sam = Iron + Wine, Sodom, South Georgia

[Melon Choly]

This is a beautiful story, of the passing of life. However, I was confused as to who Sam is?

"Papa died Sunday," Sam whispers.

Can you help clear up what I'm missing? Thank you dearest.

[Seracies]

Wow. I loved it.