Will You Hold My Hand?

He lives with quiet strength and humble confidence

Never one to draw attention to himself

Always quick to see a need that he could meet.

~

Perhaps it began as the hero-worship of a child

I learned to trust his integrity as an immovable pillar

His wisdom as a sure and solid foundation.

~

As he ages, I come to terms with his humanity

Watch him struggle as frailty erodes his confidence

Pain and loss push us reluctantly to this point.

~

He lies broken in a hospital bed

I don’t need for him to be strong for me anymore

But I cannot bear to see his pain.

~

I look away, unable to face his pain

If only I could come to his rescue

To promise that everything will be all right.

~

But it isn’t true.

Sometimes.

It’s just not true.

~

If I could pound my fists against the skies

I would rail against the evil that crept in

and bit by bit stole his strength and his hope.

~

I don’t want to walk this path.

I can’t.

I’m too afraid.

~

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15 thoughts on “Will You Hold My Hand?

  1. My mother died of complications related to her emphysema & her deteriorating condition due to Alzheimer’s. She passed away in her sleep February 1999.

    I had Randy Clark pray for her when I attended a Let the River Flow conference at the Anaheim Vineyard in 1996(?). Saw John Wimber there also. I think I had Randy pray over a handkerchief or some other thing. Anyway…

    My mother always recognized me. Would call me by name whenever I walked into her room. No matter how dazed & confused she I was always recognized. I remember praying for her healing. When the disease progressed the reality of her mortality simply was too much to deny. I then made her a promise. I told her, “Mom, I will always tell you the truth when we talk. I will tell you when you are incoherent or paranoid or getting your stories mixed up. That is my promise to you…”

    Whenever she launched into the mixed up world she inhabited & would gently tell her that was not the facts. Names & dates & convoluted situations would simply be rejected by me. I did not cater to her delusions. I would go over the names of family members in the pictures on her dresser. I always comforted her. And no matter how agitated she was when I first came in to visit, she was much calmer when I left. I think it is because she could trust me to help sort out fact from fantasy.

    She forgot my wife’s name. And my son’s names. Didn’t remember my line of work or other details of my life. But she always recognized me & called me by name.

    My parents divorced when I was a junior in high school. Didn’t have much a relationship with my dad. He remarried shortly after the divorce. Was married longer to his second wife than his first. Strange how that happens. Less than 2 months after my mom passed my dad died from complications of open heart surgery…

    We all face it & will deal with it eventually. Our mortality as well as those of loved ones. No escaping that fact. Since my parents have passed, Aunts & Uncles have also passed away. My 17-year old niece died in some freak bicycle accident a few short years after mom & dad. I am actually more at peace about our limited time here after going through such separations. I can identify with all previous generations that too have had to say good-byes to those they loved. My pain or grief not at all an exception. It is a common thread everyone can identify with…

    Just sharing on line here. Your post just got me reminiscing in a sobering but good way. Thanks…

  2. I’m sorry, too Grace. I’ve been in a place like that with my mom in law in recent months. She doesn’t deserve it.

    My heart goes out to you and your family.

  3. Grace, I feel what you are going through. Alzheimer’s stole my mom away. For the last year of her life she didn’t remember me or anyone else, and turned into someone the exact opposite of the sweet caring person she was. My dad then died of a broken heart 33 days later.

    May your heavenly Father comfort you the way only he can. May his love wash over you and give you peace.

  4. Thanks everyone. I know that many of you have already walked through some very difficult things.

    It seems I find myself a middle-aged “little girl” very inexperienced and unprepared for the harsher realities of aging.

    I am not sure if one can be prepared for how hard it really is. I am not courageous. I don’t feel strong enough to handle seeing my parents suffer and lose the ability to do the things they love.

    The last 24 hours have shown me that I have much to be thankful for also in family and friends that will walk through the hard times with us.

    I appreciate your thoughts and prayers.

  5. We built on an apartment for my parents who are now in their middle 80’s. It has been hard to see my dad deteriorate physically and now mentally. We have had to fight him over finances which he has always been meticulous about. Finally he made a decision to let us make the decisions. I loved your piece here today. Thanks.

  6. Thanks Barb. I never realized how hard it would be. Sometimes I just have to write, and the middle of the night last night was one of those times. I’m still not sure if I should have posted it.

  7. Thanks for sharing this, grace … it makes more sense to me now.

    Courage is not an absence of fear but the will to act in spite of it. Courageous writing is the hallmark of Kingdom Grace.

    Joining my prayers with the many who are encouraged by your words….

  8. Grace,

    We love you guys and are praying for you and your parents.

    Sometimes I still feel like a little girl myself. In my mind, my parents are still in their 30’s. Reality stinks sometimes.

  9. Grace, I’m sorry, too. I can relate to your feeling like a middle-aged “little girl.” I guess we all get to grow up sooner or later. Peace to you.

  10. I am praying for you too Grace, I get so much from your writing, I think we all feel like little kids at times. I am 40 but in my mind I am still 17 and I have no idea what to do and life scares the crap out of me at times.
    I lost my dad when I was 15, I know it’s hard.
    I hope you are surrounded with the peace of God and He holds you close during this difficult season.
    Peace

  11. Thank you for your prayers and support everyone. I am sorry for the losses that so many of you have experienced.

    Since Friday, I have recovered my ability to be grateful for what we have. My dad is not terminal, at least not any more than we all are. We are praying for a full recovery without further complications.

    I will not be around much for the next couple of days until they are settled back in at their home.

    Thanks again for your love and support.

  12. Thank you for being willing to be vulnerable, that, also, is a hallmark of Kingdom Grace.
    I was a middle aged’ little girl….’, too….

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