Judy

I hate death. It’s so final. My friend Judy died this week. She had stage four cancer, so it wasn’t totally unexpected. Yet I thought she had more time. I think she thought she had more time too. We were both wrong.

A hospital is not a place I like to be. I don’t know why I am not comfortable in hospitals, but I dislike even visiting people there. Judy was in a hospice though, and I found that I could more easily visit her in that place. The volunteers at the hospice did a wonderful job, and made the place much more comfortable and welcoming.

For a while Judy and I had attended the same church. We got on well together, so when she changed churches, we decided to keep in touch. The internet is wonderful at keeping people connected.  Every month or so we would go out for lunch, or go on a hike together. We were friends, and I was upset when she first received her cancer diagnosis. Because she didn’t actually have any symptoms, Judy was not too concerned. We were not close enough for me to try and push what I felt she needed to do. My place needed to be one of support, so I tried to be there for her, praying for her and with her, and encouraging her along the path that she was choosing.

I spent a lot more time with Judy after she got sicker. Her neighbours had had to call an ambulance for her, and she ended up in hospital. After many tests she was informed that her cancer had spread, and it was now stage four. There was nothing further they could do for her, and she was moved to a hospice. That’s when I began to visit her once a week.

So often our lives are so busy that we don’t have time for each other. Then when the need arises, we find that we can give a little more, share a little more, support a little more. I found the time to visit Judy nearly every week for four months.

Judy was easy to visit. She always found something positive to say about her health. Sometimes her blood pressure had gone down. Sometimes she had a little more energy. Sometimes she just believed God was healing her, even if the evidence was not there yet. There was never any ‘why me?’ She accepted whatever came her way and dealt with it.

Every visit I had with Judy I would ask how she was doing, and the response was always positive, even the last time I saw her. I noticed that she was looking very pale towards the end, and that she was tired, but she never complained. And of course I never mentioned what I saw.

On my last visit she was lying down when I arrived, and once I was there she propped herself up on the bed. I did most of the talking, but when Judy spoke her voice was firm. She asked after my family, something she did every week. I asked her if she was able to walk around at all, and she responded that she hoped to get back to doing that soon. We always prayed together. I prayed for Judy’s healing, and Judy prayed for my family. She was a very caring person, and was not wrapped up in her own problems.

I’m going to miss Judy. My phone reminded me that I should be visiting her yesterday. Sorry phone, but no more visits to the hospice.

Yes, I hate death. Except that we have a hope, a belief, that death is not the end. I am confident that I will see Judy again. She has finished her journey here on earth, I have not. My prayer for whatever time I have remaining, is that I too can be a positive person like Judy was. And I pray that I can continue to make a difference in people’s lives, helping them to know that they are loved by the Almighty God and Father, just as I am, and just as Judy was, and is.