Loving Presence
My father was first diagnosed with lung cancer, two years ago this week. The first couple of days they thought the cancer was just in his lungs but he was having such bad vertigo that we asked if he could get a CT Scan. He got the scan and we headed home, and within ten minutes of our arrival we got a call from his doctor who said that they got his brain scans back and we needed to call 911 ASAP. They told us he had a tumor in his brain that could end his life at any moment, and he needed to get back to the hospital. We all broke out in cries, including my dad who was overwhelmed with fear. The ambulance quickly came, and we found ourselves in the ICU with doctors in and out of the room sharing with us possible next steps. Because we now knew the cancer had spread to his brain the approach quickly changed. At first the conversations had been about curative measures, but now the conversations became about what could give us a little more time with him. The heart break we felt as this new reality sunk in was completely overwhelming.
On our third day in the ICU, (Two years ago-to the day) there was a moment when my dad was feeling things I could only imagine, and he started to cry. A neurosurgical nurse named Johnathan walked in the room and as he sensed what was happening, he asked my dad if he could give him a hug. They hugged and as Johnathan looked at my dad with love, he asked him to look around the room at my mom, my brother, and I and to notice the love that was surrounding him, noting that this love would support him on his journey. They talked for a bit about how my dad was feeling, and although I don’t remember the full conversation I do remember Johnathan gently mentioning that, in midst all of the fears we had about what was unfolding, we couldn’t know what was going to happen. He mentioned that the reality is that none of us have tomorrow promised, and that all any of us really have is the present moment… I remember the energy in the room shifting in that moment. We went from being focused simply on our fears of what could happen- to taking a deep breath and trying to soak up the present moment and the love we had for one another.
I sensed something in Jonathan, so after he walked out of the room, I ran down the hall and asked, “Are you a mystic?” Looking back I can laugh a little at myself for asking that kind of question to a stranger… but thankfully he knew what I meant and he smiled. We ended up having a chat about life, and how we were learning about a lot of the same things. At the end of our chat I asked him, tears rolling down my face… “How do I walk this out with my dad?” I was looking for advice, comfort, anything… He said simply, “Follow the love” and we parted and I went back in the room with my dad cuddling up in the hospital bed with him. I laid there thinking about those words, and what it would look like to be lead by love in the journey we had ahead…
Recently I found Johnathans info to see if he would want to meet up sometime, I didn’t know if he would remember us, but he said yes. We met on his break, at the hospital where my dad was diagnosed, where everything changed. I walked up to the front of the emergency entrance where I stood two years prior. I let my body sink into that spot, remembering, reflecting, taking some deep breaths- probably looking a little strange to the people walking by- but I was standing on what was sacred space for me, a space where my life changed, and I had to take notice. It’s strange something so life changing and traumatic can happen, but time doesn’t stop, it simply continues to unfold. It had been two years since I stood in that spot, yet a part of me has never left that spot, and probably never will.
I found Johnathan and was greeted by his kindness that I remembered experiencing years before. I was able to give him my gratitude for the love that he showed my dad and my family. I gave him one of the rocks engraved with “love” that we passed out at my dads celebration of life. He then shared with me that he distinctly remembered that day and that the experience he had with my dad meant much to him as well, reminding him to keep pursing his path of love. It was a beautiful meeting, and just another part of my healing process.
As I sit and process this story, I cannot help but think about the power of a simple act of loving presence. Just a few minutes of joining someone where they are at in love can mean the world, I know it did for my dad, and I know it did for me. This morning i’m asking myself, what does it look like for me to approach today with love while my heart is beating, and while there is air in my lungs? Maybe it’s sharing a genuine smile with a stranger. Maybe it’s playing with my kids, really playing with them? Maybe it’s hugging my friends? Maybe it’s listening to someone who simply needs to be heard? Maybe it’s simply the act of writing this blog out to honor my experience? Who knows what will unfold? But I feel encouraged to imperfectly try and follow the love, which always seems to invite me back into presence.