Authors: Lisa Heaton
“Promise you’ll let yourself love again.”
She pulled away from him and moved to get out of bed. When he reached for her hand as if to stop her, she jerked it away and shouted, “No!”
Without looking back at him she ran quickly up the stairs. As he watched her go, he could hear her sobbing and regretted bringing it up before bed. He could easily guess that neither of them would get much sleep that night.
Over the next week, John never mentioned the promise again. By the second week, however, he had already asked her several times. Each time, she said the one single word
no
and walked away. While that first night she was much more adamant, angry even, the times that followed were simply quiet, painful refusals.
Since early in the week, he had not left the bed more than a few times. Chelsea had no doubt; it was the beginning of the end as the sounds of his breathing grew louder and more labored. So tired of medical contraptions and nurses, he refused any further in-home care and insisted they remove all devices. He wanted to die in his home in peace, not in a makeshift hospital room. At first Chelsea fought him every step of the way but eventually became quiet on the subject. No matter her earliest arguments, he wouldn’t change his mind. Though he had little physical stamina, his mind and will were as strong as ever, much stronger than her own by that point. The course was set and there was no going back. Chelsea could only watch the rapid decline of the love of her life, knowing there was not one thing she could do about it. Some days it hurt so badly that she could hardly look at him in his weakened state, and others she spent hours sitting and staring at him, praying over him while he slept, begging for a last-minute miracle.
John knew the end was near. Occasionally, he longed for it but only to set Chelsea free from the waiting. He found that her pain was the single most painful aspect of dying. He had anticipated it would be different, that he would hurt more. While there was pain, what he felt physically was nothing to compare to what he felt on the inside, deepest in his heart.
Most often, he was so weak he could hardly force himself to sit up, let alone be up and around. The times he did, he made it as far as the sofa and then camped there. It was summer, so thankfully, Lucy was there every day. With the two girls in the house, it was usually loud and chaotic. John liked that. He drank in every giggle and squeal, and often found himself wondering if they would even remember him. Sure, Lucy would to a certain degree, but he imagined Sara Beth wouldn’t. She was too young. As sad as that certainty made him, it also relieved him in a way. If she didn’t remember him, there would be no missing him. Sara Beth would never grieve over a daddy she didn’t really know. Lucy would grieve his loss in the immediate future, and because of that, he had done everything he could to make sure she knew he loved her and that he wasn’t scared, but time would change things. Years would pass and he would be nothing but a distant memory. It was Chelsea he was most concerned about. She would hold on without question, and he feared if she held on too long, she may never find her way back out of it. This was the fear that drove his urgent need to hear her promise that she would allow herself to love again.
One evening after Lucy was gone with Tuck and Sara Beth was in bed already, John asked Chelsea to play for him. When she smiled at him and moved to her piano, he went to join her. That night, he found it took every shred of energy just to make it to the piano bench. She had already begun to play. The melody was familiar to him, and after a few bars, he recognized it as the song she played the first time he heard her sing in church. It was about a beautiful ending.
“I know this song; sing it for me.”
For the first time in the past year, she was able to play the song without crying. Over the past few days, she had cried non-stop, especially when she was alone for more than a minute. By this point, she simply felt cried out. There didn’t seem to be any more tears. So she played and sang softly while John’s head rested on her shoulder. As weak as he was, he still wanted nothing more than to sit with her while she played, so she would play as long as he was physically able to sit and listen.
He was getting weaker by the day, his face drawn and pale. When Louise was in town the week before, she said he had the look of death. She had seen it before. Her words weren’t meant to upset Chelsea, but rather to prepare her. Louise had seen enough of death to know. It was coming soon, and Chelsea knew it too. To continue the fight seemed futile and exhausting and unfair for John.
Through his wheezing and rasping, John whispered, “Promise?”
At that one word she stopped playing and turned to face him. For a moment she just sat and stared into his hazel eyes, how weak they were and how different from that man who interviewed her that first day with such intensity and purpose. Smiling softly, loving this vulnerable man even more than she loved the tycoon, she moved in to kiss him softly on the lips. When she moved back to look at him, she whispered, “No.” As desperately as he needed to hear her promise, she still couldn’t say it. “
You
are my only one.”
John rested his forehead on hers. “
You
are my only one.”
He was winded, unable to go on for a moment. Finally, catching a fleeting breath, he said, “Thank you for helping me live. There was no life before you.”
For the very first time, Chelsea voiced what she had wondered all along. “How will I live without you?”
He circled his arms around her and held her gently. “Walk with Jesus, Chels. That’s the only way. You taught me that.”
Still, no tears fell. Maybe she had died before him.
Within a matter of days, John was confined to bed, unable to even get up for brief periods. Lucy would lie with him and color or read. Chelsea found it difficult to get her to leave his side. Lucy understood he was dying. On many occasions, Chelsea would walk in the room and find her crying and John comforting her. They talked often about heaven and the things he promised to tell her maw maw when he got there.
Sara Beth was too young to understand what was happening, but when she was tired, Chelsea would often take her in with her to sit with John. It was sweet how she would cuddle with him until she drifted off to sleep. Other times, Sara Beth was so busy and squirmy that she was unable to sit with him more than a few minutes at a time, but John was happy with whatever time she would sit still. Chelsea believed he was his most energetic when the girls were with him. He seemed to fight for the strength to be alert for them.
There was such a blanket of sadness draped over their house that Chelsea found she could hardly breathe. Some nights, after John and the kids were asleep, Chelsea would go outside and sit on the swing and weep and weep until she literally couldn’t breathe. She begged God for a miracle but knew in her heart one wasn’t on the way. It wasn’t lack of faith but rather a sense of knowing what was just around the bend. Death was coming for him.
One night while she was out alone, weeping under the stars, she recalled something that caused her to grow suddenly silent. It was her own words to Jesus echoing in her heart. When they were in Montana that first trip, while they were out that day on horseback, she prayed for the Lord to change John’s heart, that he might agree to a future together. When she prayed that prayer, she had added,
Ask anything, and I’ll give it
. This was what she had to give; it was what it cost her to have him.
Time
. There was little time, barely more than three years together.
For a moment or two her words continued to ring in her head. She had meant those words. She was truly willing to have less time rather than not have John at all. That prayer was answered. With or without her, John had little time, and the Lord knew it. Without her, he would have never had Lucy or Sara Beth. He would have never married again or found such true happiness with family, apart from business. By bringing them back together, God gave John a beautiful ending, one unlike anything he could have ever known alone. It was never about
her
beautiful ending; it was about
his
. Chelsea found some odd sense of comfort in this revelation that it wasn’t about her or what would happen to her once he was gone. Instead, it had always been about John finding a second chance to be who he was always supposed to be. She would gladly accept the pain of his loss to have been part of what God did in his life, allowing him to become a husband and a father, to know the love of family. This was
his
beautiful ending.
Back inside the house, she slipped in next to her sleeping husband. He was laboring to breathe, even more so than usual, and each breath was coming further and further apart. There in the dark, she was thankful she couldn’t see his face clearly. Over the past months, he had become so pale and drawn that he hardly seemed like the man she married and had aged ten years it seemed. At times like these when they lay together in the dark, she tried to visualize him as he used to be, not as he currently was, so worn and tired.
For the first time ever as she listened to him struggle for air, she prayed, “Please take him in peace. Don’t let him suffer anymore. Give him his beautiful ending.”
No sooner was the prayer expressed when she heard, “He’s hanging on for you.”
It was God speaking into her heart as clearly as if His voice were audible. Chelsea knew that to be true. John wasn’t scared of dying; of that she was certain. The few times she would allow him to talk of the end, he was completely at peace and assured her he would be waiting for her. She thought of
the promise
and how often he had asked it of her. Most likely, that was what was keeping him holding on. Though she couldn’t understand why it meant so much to him, if it was what he needed, she would give it to him.
It was just after ten when Chelsea nudged John gently. He woke easily enough. As much as she hated to wake him, she feared if she didn’t he might pass without her promise.
Grinning weakly, he whispered, “Am I snoring?”
Chelsea moved nearer, rested her head on his pillow, and placed her hand on his chest. “No, babe. You’re not snoring.”
He tried to hold her but was too weak to grasp her very tightly. He did the best he could.
“If it’s what you need, then I promise.”
Her words were his release and she knew it. As much as it terrified her to let him go, holding on was prolonging his suffering. She couldn’t watch it much longer as the sight of it was killing her.
He mulled over her words, understanding how difficult they were for her to say. Realizing she didn’t mean them at the time and that she was only saying them for his benefit, he hoped they would someday allow her to let him go. John mustered up all the strength he could and squeezed her tighter, saying, “That’s my girl.”
“I’ll be okay. If you’re holding on for me, you can let go.”
He was proud of how brave she was being. She had held on to hope for so long, for her to finally be letting go was a sign that the Lord was working in her heart, that she was finally accepting the inevitable.
Before long he was sleeping again. She kissed him softly so as not to wake him. It reminded her of their last night in Malibu before they parted. Maybe she was imagining it, but he seemed to kiss her back in his sleep. That made her smile for the first time in a very long time. He loved her. When there was nothing else to hold onto, she had that. No matter what he asked of her, no matter what she promised, that was the one thing she would always hold on to, his love.
Chelsea woke several hours later to the sound of silence. All was peaceful. For just a moment it felt good to lie in the silence, at least until the fog of sleep cleared. Gradually it dawned on her, John had not breathed silently in months. Her eyes were still closed, and she intentionally held them shut tightly for a while longer. When she opened them, life would never, ever be the same.
Finally, she looked at him. It was still dark out, so she couldn’t see him clearly, but she knew: he was gone.
Chelsea reached for her phone and dialed.
Bob was sleeping heavily when the phone beside his bed rang. The sound of it caused his heart to pound hard as he fumbled around the nightstand searching for it. He never wondered who it was; he knew.
“Daddy!” Chelsea cried.
“I’ll be right there, Moonshine.”
Bob woke Gail, who jumped out of bed. They already had planned for this eventuality. Gail would stay with Sara Beth and Lucy if she was there, and Bob would handle things for Chelsea. John had most everything planned out, and Bob knew what to do.
Chelsea dropped her phone and moved closer to John. More than anything, she wanted to feel him hold her again. It was how they went to sleep that night, but sometime during the night, she had rolled away from him. He died without feeling her near. When Chelsea lifted John’s arm, finding he had already begun to stiffen, she placed it over her and snuggled in as close to him as she could get. Just barely, she choked out the words to the song about his beautiful ending.
When Bob arrived and found the door locked, he used his key rather than knock and possibly wake the girls. Inside, he moved quietly into the library and found Chelsea lying there with John. There was just enough light in the room from streetlights that he could see their forms there. They seemed to be embracing. For just a split second, he wondered if maybe he had misunderstood. Then the silence in the room brought reassurance; he understood.
He made his way to the bedside and sat on the edge. Stroking Chelsea’s hair, he said, “I’ve called. Someone will be here to get him soon. You’ll have to get up when they come.”
He felt her nod. Until they came, he sat with her while her mother went up to check on the girls. No moment in his life could quite compare to that one. As much as he knew he would miss John on a personal level, the knowledge of what was ahead for his little girl was absolutely gut wrenching. For her, life would never be the same, and he feared the worst. Past experience told him to.