“I am so sorry that you did not get your miracle.”

Though said to me in loving care, I must respectfully disagree – I did, absolutely and positively, get my miracle. Miracle upon miracle encircled me culminating in an all-engulfing sorrow which was, even still, punctuated by God’s presence offering me comfort and patiently waiting until I was able to accept that comfort. Another miracle.

June 30, 2025 will wrap up my first year of widowhood. One down, 34 or so to go… In all this time I have not put into writing the events of our final day together, not even in my journal. A few memories are too sacred to share, but I feel that I should complete the story of Mark’s final day with us on earth.

I did begin a narrative which ended in the early morning of June 30. I will now include excerpts from that post as well as a link to read it in its entirety which I would prefer that you do…

First the post and then the excerpts:

https://learning-laughing-loving-life.blog/2024/09/26/time-to-dare-and-endure/

Time to Dare and Endure

…I had devoted a year of my life to his constant care. I did it all for him and it was my fight as well. I fought for him. We both fought for each other – as individuals and as a team.

What happened to our fight? When did we surrender?……….

………At about 5:15 I woke up and realized something definitely was happening in the next room. I opened the door and this time there were all sorts of people scurrying about.

Mark was speaking clearly, “I am ready to go… “

“What is happening?” I asked of no one in particular.

“I am ready to go…” This time I registered the words that I heard Mark saying. His CNA was standing by him. She told me he had been repeating this phrase over and over for 30 minutes.

The PA, a very beautiful and gentle woman, was at my side. “Your husband’s body is actively dying.”

His pulse had risen to 190 beats per minute and they were preparing to take him to the ICU. Mark was “ready to go.” His body was “actively dying.” I began to tremble all over and someone led me to a chair next to Mark and wrapped me in a warm blanket.

“No,” I told them, taking charge of the situation. I knew the children would agree. “There will no need to take him to ICU.”

The medical team quickly melted away and we were left alone. From the time I entered his room until the time he left us it was 14 hours. I hope to share that story soon. For now I am just remembering how it felt to enter a room buzzing with activity and then to be left alone together. I have always loved being with him! I miss him so much!

We had dared. We had endured. We were a team. Mark had surrendered. I surrendered with him….

For 30 minutes Mark had been repeating the phrase, “I am ready to go…” When I asked, “What is happening?” he realized that I was in the room and he never said it again. Never.

I texted the children around 5:30 a.m. and let them know that the time had come. I then had a couple hours alone with Mark. I think that I talked the entire time though I do not know what I said. Mostly I think I was pleading for him to stay with me.

The children began to arrive around 7:30 a.m. Just as representatives from the Church came to administer the sacrament and leave an inspirational message, our final family members came and we were all gathered. Mark had been asking for the sacrament all weekend but at this point he was sleeping deeply.

I had agreed to put Mark into the care of hospital hospice. They had explained to me what the final hours may look like so we would know what to expect. I shared all of this with the family as we began another day together. As hospital workers entered the room they almost all stopped for a moment as if surprised. Some of them said, “Wow! I can feel the LOVE in this room!” They were feeling the Spirit. We knew that angels were with us – though we were all accustomed to the feeling… we knew that it when we returned to the room after an outing and we had the same response. It was palpable and beautiful.

My solo hours with Mark had been wonderful and I wanted the children to experience the same. One at a time they sat with Mark while the rest of us visited in the lounge area. Each child had about 45 minutes alone with their dad. His final coherent words were spoken to Alyssa, his first grandchild. As their visit ended she said, “I love you Grandpa.” He opened his eyes and looked right at her, “I love you too Alyssa!”

Earlier our nurse had explained that throughout the next few hours she would need to slowly lower Mark’s oxygen and eventually they would take off his monitors. Well, she had taken advantage of my absence and decreased his oxygen during the kids’ time with Mark. When I came back into the room and saw his O2 sats in the 60’s I marched right over and turned up that oxygen right back up! Not on my watch!! I thought I might catch a scolding for that one – and I saw her glance at it when she walked through again, but she didn’t say a word. The next time through she very graciously asked me if she could remove the monitors. What a blessing that was – knowing what needed to happen but not having to watch it happen. We enjoyed having that amazing nurse for two days. She was in awe of the spirit in our room and we were in awe of her care and sensitivity.

Mark had not been able to communicate for a couple days. His hallucinations were over (thankfully) but his brain was on fire. The reader may recall how on Saturday he told me not to buy a Ford and suddenly raising his hand to join our family “high five” over his bed. He seemed to be completely out of it but I don’t know that he ever was. Time and again he proved that he was with us. He simply could not communicate.

It seemed as though different parts of his brain would light up with inflammation for about five minutes and then calm down. At one point he just asked for a kiss over and over… and over. At another he began to swear – very mild swearing compared to the world around us… but I had never heard him swear at all in our 37 years of acquaintance and we all had to giggle a bit – but it was very mild. I am only writing about this because who knows what your loved one might do when the time comes (especially if their brain is on fire)… be ready… be ready….

Anyway, he tried to communicate with us but his words were mostly garbled. When I was alone with him he kept trying to talk and I told that I was very frustrated that I could not understand anything he was saying. Then he clearly explained to me that he was frustrated as well. He spoke in his completely normal voice. I think that he was seeing beyond the veil and wanted to tell me (and later the whole family) about his experiences but this was not allowed. At one point during this time he looked over my shoulder. His eyes were wide and he tried hard to communicate with me, even managing to lift his hand, to tell me to turn around look behind me. There was obviously something or someone wonderful right there, but I only could only see the cabinetry.

His eyes would often dart around the room, mostly upward. We all realized he was seeing wonderful things. He spoke of the light and testified of God the Father, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost. He talked about love and family in short simple phrases. These words were always clear but as he tried to tell us anything he was seeing the words became garbled. There was one word the he kept trying to say throughout the day. He would begin and then his tongue would be garbled. Over and again and we could not figure out what it was. Weeks later I I think that I realized what he had been trying to tell us and it was meant just for me and I will keep it to myself. He did not want to leave us. He did not want to leave me.

Why did he leave? It became apparent to us (especially looking back) that he was holding on and would let go when he was ready. Why did he leave? We have two answers.

First of all there was the tuxedo cake from Costco. Some of the children went and brought back food on Saturday but we hadn’t eaten the cake. (I wasn’t eating anything and pretty much felt that I would never be able to eat again – but it turns out that I eat just fine.) It was evening and someone suggested that we eat the cake. It was dished up and shared and Mark left soon afterward. Everyone knows that Mark never leaves an event until dessert has been served. Though he couldn’t share in this dessert he would want everyone else to partake.

The real reason Mark left when he did? He was holding on. He no longer wanted to go. He wanted to stay with all of us. Breathing was labored but steady. It was almost 7:30 p.m. and time for the kids to depart for the night. We were all exhausted, mostly from crying. I knew that I could not face the night alone and everyone began to make a schedule for who would stay with Mom and for how long and then another would come and relieve them. We were getting it all worked out and that was it. Mark did not want to be a burden. It was time. He left.

He did give us a few warning breaths. I had been sitting and holding his left hand. Everyone quickly rearranged so that I could be on his right side, close to his face. He would breathe and we would count.

Ashley, my wonderful daughter-in-law, had become our rock. Though as emotional as the rest of us, she took on the role of caregiver for the family and in some ways was even the recorder of events. It was as though she could watch, listen and feel what was happening while I know that I was just in a bit of a haze. Actually a lot of a haze. (This dear daughter went on to mother us all for the next two weeks before the funeral!) Furthermore, Ashley had worked in a nursing home when she was younger and had seen death many times. She called our attention to the change in Mark’s breathing.

Another miracle that must be mentioned revolves around those two little granddaughters. They were really both babies, just 3 yrs old and 1 yr old. We were in awe of their good behavior! It had begun during the 12 hour ride to Utah and their parents still speak of that drive with amazement. The girls were calm and well behaved. I didn’t know if they should be in this hospital situation but they enjoyed being there with aunts and uncles. During these last hours the two of them went into the adjoining room and played quietly – do not try to tell me that angels were not involved!

Back to those warning breaths. There were only about three of them, spaced uncomfortably apart. Then there were no more. Mark was gone. My life was over.

Now let me tell you that I had scarcely stopped trembling the entire day. Trembling and sobbing amongst all the other aforementioned activities. That trembling would not stop. Then Mark left. We were all standing and gathered around his bed. Someone said something snarky – ok, that someone was me. We all laughed. We laughed! Laughed! How good it feels to laugh! Can I just say that for the next TEN minutes I felt better than I had felt in years?! I simply felt good. We all did. Completely unexpected but very welcome.

It did not last. For the next hour or two I did not leave his side. I could not leave his side. The children gave me a chair and then took turns sitting with me, holding my hand, hugging. Everyone else got busy cleaning up our two hospital rooms. At one point Natalie came and gave me a bear hug from behind accidentally catching my neck and quickly apologizing. I begged her to come back and try again – if only I could choke and join Mark – that was all that I wanted. Life without him felt like death and death felt like life.

No one could leave. I think it was almost two hours because it was getting dark outside. Leaving was inevitable. It took all my strength to agree to go. I wanted that blue blanket that was on Mark but I wasn’t about to take it. Mark had been bringing it to the hospital for months and I knew I would want it. Greg and Jackie agreed to stay behind and take the blanket home. Over a year later – they just reminded me that they still have it. I am not sure I want it…

The rest of the family gathered around me to support me and bring me home. They literally supported me as I had not eaten and was sapped of all my strength. I have no memory of standing up and leaving Mark’s bedside but I must have because here I am writing this… no, really, I can only envision standing and waiting for the elevator. I had someone holding me up on both sides and my knees buckled a time or two. There was a group of women laughing and joking together. I was appalled that they could act like that at a time like this!!! I hated knowing that they were waiting for our same elevator because I didn’t want to share the space with their cheerfulness. Thankfully, as the elevator arrived they seemed to change their mind and walked away. What a blessing. Tender mercy.

Well, the rest is history and here I am finally recording our holy night. It was actually a holy weekend. Prayers were answered. Miracles abounded. Joy amongst sorrow. Love everywhere.

I didn’t mention this. June 30, 2024 brought an overcast evening. Thick clouds. We had that corner room with all the windows. I was unaware of this at the time, but the children tell me that as Mark passed the clouds parted and our room was bathed in sunlight. Mark had spoken of the Light for days and he had gone to it and sent a little of it back to us.

No one can doubt Mark’s testimony of His Living Savior, Jesus Christ. His final days were filled with little else. I add my testimony to his. Jesus Christ is the reason that I can sit here, a year later, and write that my life is full of happiness. There is sorrow of course, but it is heavily outweighed by joy and happiness. He took upon Himself not just our sins, but also our sorrows and tribulations. I am learning and learning and learning how to turn them over to Him and take part in His Grace, Mercy and Love. A reader of my blog will know that I love Mark, I love my family and I love my Savior. I write to remember; to learn from my past and set the course for my future.

If you remember Mark, please remember God. This was his final wish. Open your heart, joy is waiting.

Commemorating our one year anniversary. We began and ended our day with some of Mark’s favorite foods – well, the marshmallows were my contribution to his incessant graham crackers and peanut butter so our kids grew up with this treat.