7 YEARS ON

Today marks one of those anniversaries which bring bitter sweet memories. Seven years ago my husband Bob died following an eighteen month journey with a brain tumour. I say journey rather than battle, for from the outset it didn’t feel like we were dealing with an enemy which had to be defeated. True, we would’ve preferred a favourable outcome, but the reality and severity of his diagnosis brought with it a sense of preparedness to accept what the future held, no matter what, entrusting ourselves to God ‘s love and care.

Some may see that as defeatist, giving up and giving in to the inevitable, but for us it was a time where we didn’t dwell on the past or fear the future, but where we lived each day, enjoying the many good moments found in the midst of the challenges which increasingly came our way as his condition deteriorated. Radiation and chemotherapy bought us time, time which granted us the opportunity to see life from a different perspective. Bob got a lot of satisfaction out of his work both as a lecturer in theology, sociology and psychology, and as a graphic designer, but from the moment the tumour was diagnosed all that was taken away.

Instead of regretting what was lost, he had an amazing acceptance of the situation, his only concern being the burden it was going to put on others who would have to pick up the pieces and stretch themselves to cover his responsibilities. He had a deep love for so many, but this experience cemented that. Too many of us define ourselves in terms of what we do, and as important as the work is and no matter how much we love it, we concluded that when it comes down to it, it's our relationships which are really precious.

Many close friends found his illness difficult to come to terms with, believing he still had so much to offer, but his ministry didn't come to an end with his withdrawal from active work. It simply took on a different form. I think his illness prompted people to stop and reflect, to reassess what's really important. I've kept every letter, card and email since he first became ill, and each one is a testament to how much Bob was loved, how much he touched people's lives, how much he challenged them to discover who they were meant to be.

As I wrote in my journal after the diagnosis was confirmed, “Strange to feel so calm. Have sometimes wondered in the past how I would react if we were faced with such a challenge. To now find ourselves in this situation, it's lovely to know there is no need to despair”.

Bob was always an avid reader and writer, and very early in his illness he asked me to write down his thoughts while he could still get them straight. I included them in his eulogy on what was a remarkable day in our community for laying him to rest. I’ll let him have the final word.

“Am I dying?

I think it's pretty clear my life is coming to an end, barring miracles, and miracles are always God's choice. But the fascinating thing for me is I think all of life is a miracle.

Life has been just so full, so rich.

All across the world there are little kids who died today without food, with AIDS, through war, all innocent. How pathetic it would be to grumble that I'm dying young at 54.

Sure, I would rather be around to see my kids grow up, my grandkids grow up, to see the eventual outcome of Fusion's ministry. I'd love to be with my wife for what we thought would last until we grew old together, but I can be nothing but thankful for what's been given, and enjoy it.

It's strange to actually face dying. Part of me for months has felt like I might not live much longer. I don't know why, I just sort of knew. I'm not finished. I'm still learning and growing, and I know God has some lessons for me for this time. You just see things a little clearer or something.

I'm sorry I was such a workaholic. I wish I'd loved people more.

Inside, my heart still sings. My child sings because I met Jesus along the way, and through His family I got to grow enough to see what was important.

We're all aware of our selfishness, our self indulgence, but there's also, when you stop and think about it, a sense of joy and love that's at the core of who we are.

I'm looking forward to discovering what the after life is all about. You only get one opportunity, well, most of us anyway, and eventually it'll be revealed to us all. The funny thing is, we all think it's so far off, when really it's not far away at all, and we have the whole of eternity to appreciate it all.

So God is asking me, it seems, to accept His wish that I get there earlier than some of you, but it will only be a very short phase from then until we're together. That's what we need to trust. That's why we need to live our whole lives fully.

I don't think I'll miss you. I think there'll be too much going on. The pain for me is identification with your pain in losing someone you care about, but it's only for a little while.

Trust that.

Love, Bob”