Afterlife | pictured words

MY HUSBAND

It was a grave reaction
to I.V. antibiotic.
The medical staff had
moments to respond and stabilize
as his numbers instantly plummeted:
blood pressure
heart rate
oxygen level

I did all I could do:
feverishly fan
and fervently pray.

A while after he was stabilized
and we were alone,
he asked me,
“Was I singing?”

Singing??
I wasn’t sure if he was yet “all there.”
Then he explained.

I saw the numbers. I felt like I was leaving.
Then I found myself somewhere else.
Somewhere black.
Not scary pitch black.
Soft black.

I wasn’t touching the ground.
Yet I wasn’t being held up by anything I could feel.
Simply suspended.

I heard singing.
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
The Doxology.
I sang with them, belting it out
with all my heart.
Strongly. Clearly.
Beautifully.
Not my usual muffled-mushy voice.

And I felt peace.
Utter peace
like I have never felt before.

And I knew that if this is all there is,
I’m okay with that.
Much more than okay.

He also described being unaware
of how much time he spent “there.”
It could have been moments.
It could have been hours.
Time was meaningless.

It seemed to me
he was astonishingly
neither fully here
nor fully there,
yet fully present
in both.

(in response to “veil” prompt)

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October 19, 2018

LINDSAY ROSE

Day 6 photo heart copy

It was early fall. She was young and animated. The baby girl who had cheated death had become a young woman full of soul, and bright as her favorite color. Her palette was in hand. Her imagination as open and vibrant as changes soon to grace the trees. Camaraderie, harmony, and laughter were yearnings, with promise of fulfillment. Until, on her way to a weekend of music with friends, her song was silenced.

she laughs with Jesus
as they paint the sunset with
orange Crayolas

(I wrote the 17-syllable ending in September of 2011, on the anniversary of Lindsay’s car accident, and her passing from this life to the next.)

FOR POETIC BLOOMINGS AUTUMNAL POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE, 2018, DAY 6: ORANGE

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September 10, 2018

A CORD OF THREE STRANDS

memo board

They began, young.

Lovely and in love
Healthy and hopeful
Playful and promising
To have and to hold
From this day

Forward, fast
Furiously fading
As Alzheimer’s attempts
To dilute and damage
Life and love
Strongly seduced.

Still,
Promise prevailed.
“All my love, and love me always”
In illness and health,
Held by God’s hands
And the cord of three strands,
Stands

Against all
Ashes to ashes
Forever co-mingled
In the perpetual presence
Of the One who,
Singly, and synchronously,
Breathed life
And an always love.

“And if someone overpowers one person, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not easily broken.” ~ Ecclesiastes 4:12

Forever my love to Mom and Dad, now eternally at rest, in the presence of the One.

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April 7, 2018

PUNK

225-d-030-400

I sat at the left end of a long
cafeteria-like table.
No food before me,
no scent of food.
My eyes focused on something
in my hands, which
I cannot now recall.

Forward and to my right,
old fashioned, quilt-look, diner-style
double swinging doors
open.
I glance up
smile
glance back down,
before my heart quickens in my chest
and I look back up.

“Punk!” barely escapes my lips –
more air than voice
as our eyes engage –
His,
smiling, crinkling at the sides.
Mine,
misting as my lips quiver.

He comes to me,
his cadence the same as my heart
remembers.

“Punk!” barely escapes again
as we hug.
His scent and chuckle,
unchanged.
His breath moves my hair.

His familiar voice in my ear speaks only a few words:

“What do you want to know?”

An unexpected question.
My heart quickens again.
What do I need to know?

“Punk, I just want one more hug.”

He backs up
just enough for me to feel his warm hands
on my cheeks.
I can see only his smiling eyes.
I look into them, and see
everything.

It can’t be explained any other way.

Everything.

In less than a moment.
Everything that ever was
seen
felt
heard
known
unknown,
is now
ever will be.

The beauty of it all filled me full.
Left me no words.

He gave me one last hug,
walked to the double doors,
glanced back with those smiling eyes,
and walked back through.

And the living live the here and now,
but those who have passed
and are alive in Christ,
know.

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pictured words

Tag: Afterlife

September 20, 2026