One Year Ago Today

        It was a year ago today (December 5) that I heard the news.  It’s strange how you remember little details in a time of grief.  It’s like the world slows down and you experience everything in slow motion. 

        December 5 was the Second Sunday in Advent.  It was to be a full day, the beginning of a busy week.  I rushed back into my office after the worship service.  We were going to eat lunch, then meet our youth at the Civic Center for the first of the Christmas Candlelight services.  The youth would be collecting canned goods for Crisis Ministry.

        I hung my robe in my closet and grabbed my cell phone before heading out the door.  Glancing at my phone, I saw that I had a text message.  It was probably one of the youth, I thought.  I had discovered that texting was the best way to communicate with them.  But a closer look revealed that this text came from by youngest brother in Alabama.  It was unusual for him to text me at all, much less on a Sunday morning when I knew he would be in church. 

        I have two younger brothers.  Jon is nine years younger, Robert three years my junior.  Jon told me in the text that Robert had been taken to the emergency room.  They were not sure what was going on.

        Robert and his wife Vicki live in Muscle Shoals, Alabama on the banks of the Tennessee River.  They have three sons and two grandsons.  Robert had a successful landscaping company.  He and his sons also had a racing team and traveled all over the southeast racing cars. 

        I tried calling Jon, who lives in Huntsville, a good 70 miles from Muscle Shoals.  Jon is the EMS Director for Huntsville.  I left Jon a message and went to eat lunch.

        “I wonder what’s going on with Robert?” I said as Joyce and I ate together.  “I’m sure Jon will call you soon,” she said.

        Jon did call and told me that they were airlifting Robert to Huntsville.  Huntsville has the best hospital in the region.  He said Robert woke up complaining with severe stomach pain.  “We’re not sure what it is,” he said.

        Joyce and I went to the Civic Center to meet our youth.  Soon we were busy greeting the cheerful holiday crowd who were attending the first Christmas Candlelight performance.  Most everyone brought canned goods.  I received another text from Jon telling me that Robert had internal bleeding.  They were running tests. 

        As soon as they find out what it is, they can correct it, I reasoned. 

        After what seemed like a long time in which we exchanged several texts, Jon called me.  “Ray, this looks serious.” he said.  Jon knew many of the doctors at the hospital and Carol, Jon’s wife, is an executive at the hospital.  They had the best surgeon looking after Robert. 

        The doctors determined that Robert needed surgery, but they felt like they might not be able to take care of the situation in Huntsville.  They felt like he needed to go to Vanderbilt in Nashville.

        Tests determined that Robert had an Aortic Dissection which is a very serious, life-threatening condition.  It is essentially a rupture in the aorta.  The plan was to fly Robert to Nashville and perform surgery. 

        Robert arrived in Nashville and specialists evaluated his condition.  Surprisingly, they informed the family that they did not feel immediate surgery was necessary.  Late Sunday night I had a conversation with my mother.  I told her that if the doctors didn’t feel they needed to do surgery right away; that was a good sign.

        I didn’t sleep well Sunday night.  I kept waking up and thinking and praying for Robert.  I got up around 5:00 a.m. and looked at my cell phone to see if I had missed any messages during the night.  As I was holding the phone, it rang.  My brother Jon was on the line.  “Ray,” he said.  He could barely get the words out.  “I don’t think Robert is going to make it.”

        Jon and Carol headed to Huntsville to be with Vicki and the family, but they never made it.  Before they got into Nashville, Robert died.  Jon and I talked on the phone.  We agreed that he needed to head back to Alabama and go tell my mother in person.  We didn’t want her to hear the news on the phone.  But it would take them over 2 hours to get there.

        I talked to mother a couple of times.  I knew what she didn’t know and it was agonizing.  When Jon was about 30 minutes away, my mother called me. 

        “Do you know something I don’t know?” she asked.  I think she knew.  I could not lie to her.  I said, “Mother, where are you.  I want you to sit down.”  When I said that; I heard her scream.  I felt helpless, so many miles away.   I tried to keep her on the line.  I was afraid she would fall. 

        It’s been a year now.  It still doesn’t seem real.  My little brother Robert is no longer with us.  Death can be very cruel.