Jacques stopped eating a few days ago. He is drinking some fluids and sleeps about sixteen hours a day. One of his lungs has shut down and the other continues to fill with fluid.
His pain is intensifying despite the increased use of pain killers. His legs are wobbly though he does want to try and sit outside for a few minutes this afternoon.
Through it all, Jacques is joyful and at peace. Though he knows the end is very near, he insists that he’s not on the cross with Jesus.
“I’m not there yet,” he sighs, “but I’m getting very close.”
We pray, we joke, we read his supportive e-mails, we plan his commemorative service, we talk about his funeral in Pain Court. It is not surreal, it is as real as real can get….and it is awe inspiring.
Last night he dreamed of heaven, of seeing a white light and a gate appearing in the mist.
Tonight, he says he hopes to enter that gate.
He’s lost track of the days….no need for calendars in eternity.
We say a decade of the rosary en francais, the glorious mystery of the Resurrection. How fitting I think.
When I gave him a small piece of the communion host, the bread of life, he smiled and asked that I repeat what I just said.
“May this bring you to eternal life Jacques,” I whispered with a lump in my throat.
As I was leaving, he wondered out loud if he should trim his beard before his brother and sister-in-law arrive from Chatham later this morning.
“No need Jacques,” I ventured. “You look more like Christ every day.”
May He continue to give you His peace and consolation.
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