This was it. I had finally found the man had been looking for my whole life. We had a connection with each other that few people find in a life time, my soul mate, my split a part, the other half of my brain. He was a mountain of a man, 6ft 4in and built like a tree trunk. Strong, intelligent, protective, indestructible. Or so I thought. We finished each other’s sentences, thought the same things at the same time, called or texted each other at the same time, we could literally feel when the other was about to call or show up. Before we were officially together we just couldn’t stay away from each other, drawn to one another like steel to a magnet. He had the “gift of helps”. He was notorious for seeing if stranded motorist needed help. He helped others even if it physically hurt to do so. He could fix anything from a car to a combine or build a house from the ground up. Most of all, he loved his family and his Lord. He was the best husband and father you could ever ask for, funny, spontaneous, and hardworking. They just don’t make them like that anymore. My Nathan.
So many feelings and thoughts go thru my head in one day. The events of that day periodically play in my mind like a movie with no off button. I get the phone call at 6 am (wish I would have gotten there sooner.) I find the room they said he was in, (Why are there so many people?) I hear a bed bouncing, (Why is he blue?) SHOCK... “What’s going on, what’s going on, what’s going on” That’s all I can say as I feel my whole body begin to shake. A petite blonde nurse turns around and backs me into the hallway. “Put the baby down.” I gently put down our 10 week old son in his carseat and I drop my purse. “What’s going on?” I ask, now terrified as the sick feeling in my stomach gets worse. Just remember to breathe, I tell myself. I only hear parts of what she’s saying, “We don’t know what happened, and they’ve been working on him for an hour.” I begin praying in the spirit. “I want to go in.” I think that maybe if I talk to him, he’ll hear me and come back. A nurse stood with my infant son as they let me in the room. “Nathan? Nathan. I’m here baby, you gotta try and come back to me baby.” I calmly plead. I begin to notice another nurse crying. “Nathan, Nathan, I love you baby, I love you Nathan.” The doctor standing at the end of his bed tells the nurse doing CPR, “You have to stop... Time of death…..” That is the last thing I hear as every thing around me fades out and my mind struggles to process what is happening. (No Lord, not my Nathan.) I couldn’t cry yet, the events of the rest of the week are only pieces floating thru my memory.
At once, people start offering to help me call family members, and find phone numbers. The first person I get a hold of is his mother, she lives in California, it’s about 5 am her time. “Anita?” “Yes, who is this? Bree? What’s wrong?” What words do you use to tell a mother that her youngest son has just died? “Nathan is gone.” Now I start to cry. “What do you mean he’s gone? Where is he, what do you mean he’s gone?” I hear the fear rising in her voice. “He’s dead.” Two devastating words I never imagined I’d have to say to any mother. She starts screaming, "Nathan’s dead?! Nathan’s dead?!" I hear my brother in law joining in. (Lord, don’t ever make me do that again.)
I get a hold of my sister in law, she and my brother in law leave for the hospital, immediately, they are about an hour and a half away. I ask for the reverend and dear friend who married us to come, and also someone from our church. I refuse to let go of Nathan’s hand or leave his side. I notice as the riga mortise begins to set in, I watch his skin turn purple as his now still blood begins to settle, I wonder why there is blood coming out of his mouth in a constant stream. A mystery not yet explained to this day. A procession of strangers come to talk to me about organ donation, what funeral home do I want. I meet the coroner, and the administrator of the hospital. Since his death was sudden, unexpected and unexplained, a forensic investigation begins. I’m asked if I want an autopsy preformed. I tell them that I absolutely do. “I have to know what happened.” I say. The hospital Chaplin attempts to console me, but I ask to be alone with him for a few minutes. I never thought I’d be doing this. At least not so soon, not after only 8 months of marriage to my 30 year old husband. I can’t remember what I said to him, I only remember crying and thinking of all the plans we had been making, now suddenly slipping away. I move to the floor on his left side and touch his wedding ring, now cold on his hand. “God baby you’re dead, you’re really dead! No, no, no, no, no, no!” I hear someone screaming and crying loudly. I suddenly realize that it’s me. (This isn’t happening! Please somebody wake me up!) Then a memory of a nightmare smacks me in the face like a semi hitting a brick wall. I had dreamt he died just 2 days ago. He had been having horrible nightmares about him and our 14 month old son dying for two weeks! I also remembered the thought of him dying hitting me as we exited the chapel immediately after getting married. I had just rebuked those thoughts and told myself that it would never happen. (Was that our warning, Lord?) The tears come harder now, I feel like I’m gonna be sick. The enemy must have seen a perfect opportunity for his lies. (It’s your fault, you were tired of the weekly ER room visits, you told God you didn’t want a broken husband, now you have no husband, you got what you asked for.) I half believed the lies, reminding myself that God loves me and isn’t like that… right? His brother and sister in law arivive. (Thank God, they're here.) They slowly walk in, his brother is wearing sunglasses to hide his tear soaked eyes, I notice the two oldest boys are with them. All I can do is watch their faces as they see Nathan lying on the bed. “What happened?” They ask. I explain that no one knows what happened. He was taken from home by ambulance again, because his legs gave out again, because back was hurting again, and they admitted him for pain again like they always do. Usually the next day he’d be fine and couldn’t leave the hospital fast enough, but not this time. He had had two spinal surgeries in less than a year and had a lot of scar tissue and nerve damage. None of that could have been prevented, it was commonplace with that kind of surgery. The pain he all too frequently went thru, was not.
At once, people start offering to help me call family members, and find phone numbers. The first person I get a hold of is his mother, she lives in California, it’s about 5 am her time. “Anita?” “Yes, who is this? Bree? What’s wrong?” What words do you use to tell a mother that her youngest son has just died? “Nathan is gone.” Now I start to cry. “What do you mean he’s gone? Where is he, what do you mean he’s gone?” I hear the fear rising in her voice. “He’s dead.” Two devastating words I never imagined I’d have to say to any mother. She starts screaming, "Nathan’s dead?! Nathan’s dead?!" I hear my brother in law joining in. (Lord, don’t ever make me do that again.)
I get a hold of my sister in law, she and my brother in law leave for the hospital, immediately, they are about an hour and a half away. I ask for the reverend and dear friend who married us to come, and also someone from our church. I refuse to let go of Nathan’s hand or leave his side. I notice as the riga mortise begins to set in, I watch his skin turn purple as his now still blood begins to settle, I wonder why there is blood coming out of his mouth in a constant stream. A mystery not yet explained to this day. A procession of strangers come to talk to me about organ donation, what funeral home do I want. I meet the coroner, and the administrator of the hospital. Since his death was sudden, unexpected and unexplained, a forensic investigation begins. I’m asked if I want an autopsy preformed. I tell them that I absolutely do. “I have to know what happened.” I say. The hospital Chaplin attempts to console me, but I ask to be alone with him for a few minutes. I never thought I’d be doing this. At least not so soon, not after only 8 months of marriage to my 30 year old husband. I can’t remember what I said to him, I only remember crying and thinking of all the plans we had been making, now suddenly slipping away. I move to the floor on his left side and touch his wedding ring, now cold on his hand. “God baby you’re dead, you’re really dead! No, no, no, no, no, no!” I hear someone screaming and crying loudly. I suddenly realize that it’s me. (This isn’t happening! Please somebody wake me up!) Then a memory of a nightmare smacks me in the face like a semi hitting a brick wall. I had dreamt he died just 2 days ago. He had been having horrible nightmares about him and our 14 month old son dying for two weeks! I also remembered the thought of him dying hitting me as we exited the chapel immediately after getting married. I had just rebuked those thoughts and told myself that it would never happen. (Was that our warning, Lord?) The tears come harder now, I feel like I’m gonna be sick. The enemy must have seen a perfect opportunity for his lies. (It’s your fault, you were tired of the weekly ER room visits, you told God you didn’t want a broken husband, now you have no husband, you got what you asked for.) I half believed the lies, reminding myself that God loves me and isn’t like that… right? His brother and sister in law arivive. (Thank God, they're here.) They slowly walk in, his brother is wearing sunglasses to hide his tear soaked eyes, I notice the two oldest boys are with them. All I can do is watch their faces as they see Nathan lying on the bed. “What happened?” They ask. I explain that no one knows what happened. He was taken from home by ambulance again, because his legs gave out again, because back was hurting again, and they admitted him for pain again like they always do. Usually the next day he’d be fine and couldn’t leave the hospital fast enough, but not this time. He had had two spinal surgeries in less than a year and had a lot of scar tissue and nerve damage. None of that could have been prevented, it was commonplace with that kind of surgery. The pain he all too frequently went thru, was not.
My oldest daughter comes in, my friend the Reverend brings her. My mom keeps my 14 month old at home. My daughter is obviously distraught. This was the only man she had in her life that had been the most like a real dad. She helps console her cousins in the hallway and gives me updates on how the nurses at the nurses’ station are doing with our baby. When the person from my church arrives I am glad to see that it is the pastor that I have known for about 10 years. I just stared at him and repeated “Why?!” Finally, he shook his head and said,”I don’t know, I don’t know.” What he said after that I don’t remember. I just wanted to hear words of explanation, or comfort from some one that seemed to know the Lord better than me. (Some one please wake me. Not my Nathan.) I feel forsaken. I begin to wonder how God could have allowed this to happen to my soul mate, my best friend, my Nathan. “I finally found the one I was supposed to be with and you take him from me? Is this your idea of a joke?” I angrily yell at the ceiling. Rage replaces the shock. “What happened, were you sleeping, taking a shower, on break or what?! Even if you ended his suffering, did you ever stop to consider mine? What did I do to deserve this? What did those innocent babies do to deserve losing the father who would do anything for them?!” These are just a few of the questions I had for the Alfa and Omega. My faith was rocked to my core. I began doubting the very basis of my faith and knowledge of God. Why couldn’t have he just healed him? This is a question I am certain I will not know the answer to until I reach heaven myself. In the next few days and weeks, I get an answer to some of those questions.
The days go by, painfully slowly at first. Some days all I can handle is one moment at a time. I found that being busy is a welcome distraction. It helped me from seeing his blue grey face and the constant trickle of blood from his mouth in my mind. It took about 3 weeks for me to stop hearing the sound of the bed squeaking as they pumped on his chest. Three days after he died, I was lying in bed sobbing when I felt someone walk into the room. I figured my daughter had come in, but when I turned to look, there was no one there. I had always been spiritually sensitive and noticed that the presence was a pleasant one. “Nathan?” I ask. Of course no one answered and I began to assess my mental state. But still, the gentle presence remained, so I began talking to it. Suddenly I felt a warmth come across my shoulders as if I was being held. I SWEAR I heard him breathe. I felt like the Lord had some how granted me a visit. I knew it was him. I felt so safe and comforted that I was finally able to sleep. The next day I told my family of this visit and to my surprise, no one thought I was nuts. The autopsy didn’t reveal a definitive cause of death at first, but later it was determined that he was overdosed on Hydromorphone by the hospital.
The funeral came and went and family and friends went back to their regular routines. I would occasionally catch a glimpse of his truck parked out front and would half expect to hear his steel toed boots walk in the door and hear his keys hit the shelf. It has been almost 8 weeks as I write this and since his death, I still cant clean out his truck or move the pocket knife, 3 dollars or the orange lighter that he placed on the shelf in our bedroom the evening he went to the hospital. However, the Lord and Nathan himself have answered a few of my questions.
As I said before, I have always been spiritually sensitive. I had never felt a presence outside a building before; there is usually too much distraction going on. Except for one day when I was visiting Nathan with my children. The anger, questions of faith, and sorrow overwhelmed me. I started to yell at God knowing full well that I couldn’t get thru this without him. I had picked up a pack of cigarettes the week before and grabbed one. I quit 3 years ago and decided I needed one at the moment. I sat at his grave and spitefully asked, “ So, do you know why you died? Has He told you yet? Would you like to share that little tid bit with me?” To my complete surprise, I got an answer. It didn’t come thru my ears, so it wasn’t an auditory hallucination. Instead it came like words do when the Lord speaks to you, like a thought. “You know why I died. You know why I died.” I feel a familiar touch on my shoulders. Perplexed, I listened.” I don’t hurt anymore baby. Cry for yourself but don’t cry for me. I’m not here. My body is here but I am not. You have to go on and raise my babies to know the Lord. That’s why I picked you, because you are strong. You have to go on and serve the Lord and you will see me again. It’s beautiful here. Don’t cry for me, I don’t hurt anymore.” “But I miss you so bad!!! I have to wait so long!” I cry. “You will see me sooner than you think. Please put that down baby. Don’t start that again. I understand why you do it but, please put the cigarette down.” He had told me when he was alive that he would be upset if I started again. “Go home baby, I’m not here, go and serve the Lord and you will see me again. I love you.” The presence is gone and I feel a peace that I haven’t felt since before
I got that phone call. I remember that this life is only a blink of an eye compare to eternity, and I realize that Heaven is a real place. As I said before, my faith had taken a big blow.
I got that phone call. I remember that this life is only a blink of an eye compare to eternity, and I realize that Heaven is a real place. As I said before, my faith had taken a big blow.
I get invited to a bible study and go because I am in desperate need of a word from the Lord. A woman who I’ve never met and only knows that I have just lost my husband begins to pray for me. She stops and says, “I’m not sure what this means and I don’t need to know the details but, the Lord wants you to know that it’s not your fault.” I instantly begin sobbing. The power of the enemy’s lie falls to the ground and she reminds me that even when I can’t feel Him, God is there, carrying me every step. I thank her and explain why I needed to here that. I get another conformation from another a friend at a bible study later. The Lord gave him a scripture for me from the book of Isaiah. It says that the Lord spared Nathan from worse things to come. I believe that it had to do with Nathan’s almost constant back pain. I have never seen another human go thru so much pain in my life. Although I’m sure it was nothing compare to what Christ went thru for us. Still, I needed the conformation of what I belive Nathan told me at his grave. I know, it sounds crazy, but I have a good enough grip on reality to believe otherwise.
It just goes to show you that it’s true what The Book says. Tomorrow is never promised. My Nathan is proof of that. So don’t let the sun go down on your anger, don’t withhold unforgivness and love as if this were your last day. Because it just might be. What will you do with it?
In a few days it will now be the 10th year anniversary of Nathan's death. I came across this writing of mine yesterday. I had all but forgotten I had wrote it and some of the details of those first few weeks. I thought it would be fitting for me to post this. Hug your loved ones extra tight today beloved...
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