The Last Flight Home
The Last Flight Home
Our family has a tradition of seeing people off at the airport. We joke that it would be much more convenient to say goodbye at the house or over the phone. It would also save driving time and money, as we have to pay for parking (and Starbucks for everyone). Yet there is something memory-making about waiting to say that final goodbye at the airport.
This fall we went to Sky Harbor Airport to say goodbye to our friends, Jon and Layne Heller, as they left for Angola, Africa to be missionaries. Hugs were given. Quick handclasps. Final words. Kisses. And tears. Sometimes saying goodbye can be difficult.
Since moving to Africa, Jon and Layne have been volunteering at an oncology ward, making friends, taking care of simple needs, and visiting with the sick and dying. Recently Layne has written in her blog about the horrific suffering of a new friend, Emilia, as she battles cancer. After three days of heart-wrenching torment, Emilia’s pain finally ended when she died in Layne’s arms.
Later, Layne said to Jon, "I have a feeling this will not be the last time someone dies in my arms." Read the entries on Laynes’ blog, entitled, Emotional Roller Coaster and She is Gone, Thank You Jesus @ http://africangypsy.blogspot.com/.
Layne’s blog stirred up a memory. . . .
Six years ago, Kevin returned to St Louis to help fulfill his mom’s final request: that she could die at Kevin’s brother’s home and not in the hospital. With the aid of hospice, Kevin and his brother, Gary, took shifts caring for Mom for five weeks. It was impossibly hard. Incredibly good. And painful. Beautifully painful.
Gradually Mom slipped more and more into a coma.
On March 3, 2004, Kevin said Mom seemed different, restless. She had said “thank you” the day before and asked about the date. Kevin had a ticket to fly home that day, so he went in for one final goodbye.
When Kevin and Gary entered the room, Mom was leaning forward, eyes wide open, gazing heavenward.
Kevin leaned over her bed, releasing her, “It’s OK, Mom. You can go home now.”
The guys prayed for their mom; when they said “amen” she took one more breath. And was gone.
Strangely, it was exactly five years to the day that Kevin’s dad had died. Now they were both home.
Just like at the airport, last goodbyes can be difficult, yet there is something memorable about being with someone until the very gateway of eternity; to be the last hand they hold until they awaken in the arms of God. Our hope and love tell us that no farewell is forever. Our faith says that one day, when it is our turn for the final flight home, we will join our loved ones on the other side.
Again there will be hugs. And handclasps. Welcoming words. Kisses. And tears. Of joy.
If you have an opportunity, don’t avoid the airport.
In closing, for my friend, Layne:
Love slipped into the room in the place of the dying,
with tear-streamed face she gripped the hand of Suffering,
whispering with fierce determination,
“I have not forgotten you. You will not die alone.”
Today in the place of the dying,
Love kept her promise.