I woke up early this morning as I typically do these days. And also as I typically do, I took a look at my Fitbit app to see how well (or not) I had slept. This morning indicated nearly 9 hours of sleep, which was way beyond my typical 6 to 6 and a half hours. But I also happened to notice that my Fitbit battery was low, so I plugged it in to charge it.
I spent some time editing my first blog post from yesterday and posted it to Facebook, all the while conscious of the gravity of Randy’s final hours six years ago. I realized that the days of the week this year match the days from then: August 14th was a Friday then as it is this year. That realization brought the memories into sharper focus for me.
My morning was spent doing laundry and a little computer work, and then I remembered that my Fitbit was still plugged in to charge. I unplugged it and quickly looked at the little message it flashed on the screen. It always gives me some kind of brief motivation, like “LET’S GO” or “IT’S ON!” when I remove it from the charger. Today’s message was so fitting: I’M READY. I couldn’t help but grin at the timing.
Yesterday I was writing about Randy asking me 6 years ago if I was ready. Ready for his death, ready for the responsibilities that would come crashing in on me afterward, ready for life without him. While none of those things were true at the time, God did carry me through every step of the way. Even though I responded “Yes” to Randy’s question, I knew in my heart of hearts that I wasn’t. But I did make it. One day at a time, sometimes one minute at a time, with God at my side.
On Saturday, August 15 of that year, I remained at his side all day. I hadn’t even gone home the night before as I had every other night of his hospital stay. I knew the end was near and I wanted to be with him as much as possible. The kids and I had been given a small room outside the ICU to rest and sleep, and from time to time, I slipped in there to doze.
Much of Saturday was spent greeting people who had stopped by to visit Randy, though he was unconscious by this point. His breathing was more labored and his organs were shutting down. We knew he didn’t have long. He was being kept medicated so there wouldn’t be any pain, and for that I was thankful.
As I think back on the day prior to that, the day when Randy’s blue-gray eyes drilled into mine, I can’t help but think there was another meaning to his question to each of us: Are you ready? Are you ready for this, but also, are you ready for the day when it’s your turn? Will you be ready to face God, to not hide your face in shame but to run into His arms? Will you be ready to face death without trepidation because on the other side of it is eternal life? And to those questions, I can confidently say, “I’m ready!”