Tribute to My Uncle

Three hours ago, my uncle breathed his last breath of life. He was the eldest brother of my father. He has been gravely ill for the last few months – frequenting the hospital wards and the intensive care unit, going through the discomfort of intubation and extubation, suffering multiple paracenteses for his ascites, even going through a period of hepatic encephalopathy when his ammonia level was through the roof.

But now he is finally at rest. He is in a state that the Bible repeatedly refers to as “sleep” (Acts 13:36; Acts 7:59-60; John 11:11-14; 2 Kings 14:29; Job 14:10-15; Daniel 12:2), awaiting the soon return of Jesus Christ. Apparently, the nurses called my niece, Joanne, at seven o’clock this morning to let her know that her grandfather was not doing well. She and her family rushed over to the hospital, and it was about that time that he was pronounced dead.

As soon as my family was notified, we drove out to the hospital as well. My brother is back in town for a wedding this weekend (he recently transplanted to Santa Rosa, California, for a new job), so he was able to join us. Fortunately, today was my day off from work so I was able to go as well. However, my father could not come, as he has recently been afflicted with a bad case of the shingles and has been bedridden secondary to severe pain.

Upon arrival at the hospital, I found my uncle lying motionless in bed, wearing a light hospital gown and covered up to his neck with a simple hospital sheet. His mouth was partially open, and his eyes were closed. His skin was pale, and smattered with purpura due to his coagulopathic state. He was cold to touch. I checked for a pulse, but I could not palpate one. I resisted the urge to reach for a stethoscope or check for a corneal reflex or perform a cold calorics test. I took in a deep breath and simply accepted the fact that he was indeed dead.

I embraced my niece and hugged my other cousins and aunts and uncles as they trickled into the room. Pretty soon, our church pastor and a few church elders entered. They performed a simple but meaningful worship service, dedicating my uncle to the Lord and praying for him and his family. Despite the mourning there was a deep sense of community and unity. Without exchanging many words we all understood one another’s grief and yearned to comfort one another.

The strange thing about dealing with death of a loved one is that suddenly we come face to face with our own mortality. When life is smooth, when finances are stable, when wars are only in faraway lands like Iraq or Sudan, we forget about our own finiteness. Our own mortality. We get swept away in the pace of life and forget to reflect on the things of true import.

Life is a gift. It is a time allotted to each individual. For some it may last 76 years. For others the gift may last only 26. Some may choose to squander the life given to them – taking part in activities that only hurt them and others around them. Others choose to live a life of dignity, integrity, and purity – taking part in activities that only uplift themselves and others around them. May we celebrate life while we still have the breath to celebrate. May we appreciate one another while they are still alive. May we learn to love and be loved. May we comfort those who are in despair. And most importantly, may we live lives that are pleasing in the sight of God, that peace and joy may abound.

I look forward to that day when “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” Revelation 21:4. I look forward to the day when I shall see my uncle in heaven. Please say a silent prayer for my uncle and his immediate family, that they may take heart and be comforted by the Holy Spirit.