The Room Next Door

We went to see Brian this afternoon. He had been moved out of ICU to a cheerful room on the third floor, with a view of the beautiful blue sky and the golden sun. He has a purple quilt on his bed and sweet peas on the window sill and his breathing is calmer.

When Dad and I arrived, Char and Rebecca told us the nurses had said that the room on one side of Brian's was a regular ward; Brian was in the room next door to the official palliative care area.

They had brought in a low trundle bed that tucks itself into the corner of the room for Char and Rebecca to sleep and rest, as well as a little love seat.

There is so much love in Brian's room.

His eyes open quite frequently and it seems he looks for her. "I'm right here, Honey," she reassures him. 

His friend Arnold is there too, with Arnold's wife Shirley. Arnold and Brian met in 1959. Fifty-three years of friendship. Arnold holds his face and calls him "Brother Brian." John and Faye are there. Bea and Murray have popped in earlier.

We sing, We are gathering together unto Him, and Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me, and You are my rock in times of trouble ... all through the storm Your love is the anchor; my hope is in You alone.

Dad speaks a word of hope and encouragement. Arnold prays. O my, he sighs a few times throughout his prayer. Groanings in place of words too deep to be uttered. Heal our friend, in the way You should choose, he entreats.

It is peaceful, considering how many of us are in such a small space. We are all connected, a family. I can't help but think that our Brian is in the room next door, just waiting his turn to be admitted into the presence of the One he loves above all else, waiting to see our Father face to face.