Tony Died Today

Tony died today.

Early this morning. One of his common coughing fits in the middle of the night, awakening Anthony from a dead sleep. I see him sitting up, signaling for the pounding fist on his back, the force loosening the constriction in his chest. Each action is a repetition of movement and habit performed countless times over the past year, made more intense in the past month, suddenly urgent within the past week. As the coughing spell resolves itself, Anthony leaves their bed for a quick snack trip to the kitchen. It is in the middle of this mundane chore that he suddenly hears the hacking resume. Then, that final urgent call from the bedroom, bidding him to quickly return in the thin weak voice that hijacked Tony’s once robust vocal presence, “Anthony!”

Though he rushes to respond to this strangled exclamation within seconds, Anthony discovers an unresponsive form, wide-eyed, still, void of life. The ache of regret at having missed the chance to steal one moment more, one final word, one last living touch, sears his uncomprehending heart. Something in Tony’s weary and cancer-ridden body has given way; the crimson stain on his sheets speaks of a vital eruption which shook internal pieces out of place. No amount of resuscitation by Anthony or the first responders will revive what is now merely a body. This man, my cousin, once a son and partner and friend, lover of pleasures, restaurant manager extraordinaire,imperfect and selfish,funny and generous, is gone from this physical plane of existence.

Even as a dead man walking, this death is unexpected.

This does not fit even within the tight parameters of two months left [though six to nine might be possible] prognosis by a team of physicians. This does not fit with the level of care he was receiving from hospice in an entry-level capacity. This does not mesh with the up days where toilet scrubbing and kitchen cabinet organization fit in between couch sessions of two and three hour naps. This does not mesh with . . . with . . . with anything and absolutely nothing.

Less than a month has passed since the news of inoperable, untreatable, impossible bone cancer traded places with suspected lung cancer in this second metastasizing of the unwelcome evil which entered his life through an esophagus made susceptible by years of alcoholism complicated by repetitive burning reflux. In a phone call just two nights ago, he was yet absorbing the reality of his terrible news, one foot planted in his faithful hope of a God of miracles, the other set in the practicality of medical information. Somewhere in the midst of his tears and determined laughter, his shock was still so evident. On a daily basis, he was struggling to incorporate his new state into the structure of his ongoing existence. I sensed his weariness; understood his vacillating moods; yearned to shoulder a portion of his burden, and resigned myself to the truth that I could not.

I drifted into a fitful sleep that evening deep in prayer with the Lord over Tony -- his future, his suffering, his need. Morning arrived and there was Tony, still embedded in my thoughts and present in one of his many very early morning text message hellos and updates. I knew I was being stretched by all that had been this New Year 2010. The Lord was using even this dire situation to grow me and to touch the heart of a man not used to truly opening his heart to honest friendship with no strings attached. There was healing to be accepted. There was forgiveness to be reckoned.

However, tonight I take my turn in absorbing the shock and accepting this new reality in my ongoing existence. It is an end to early day “top o’ the mornin’“ text messages and midday update calls and evenings of one, the other, or both. It is an end to wondering when I would board a plane in Tennessee and hit the runway in Colorado to sit at the bedside of a man dying. I was at his bedside via the presence of modern technology almost every day for a month while he was living his wish to remain at home with Anthony and his dogs, doing things on his own terms. Family relationships were restored and his faith in God reconstructed. Strangers reached out and delivered joy, compassion, and surprise to his mailbox from places near and far.

And, there will be no more suffering in his mind AND body as he anticipated the further pain and invalid state that surely awaited him in the months to come. The Lord of compassion saw fit to release him from his earthly chains and for that I offer my gratitude and . . . one day soon . . . praise for that grace.