In time

In the hospital gown, a skeleton of the man who once held his little girl, embracing her like she was fragile, like the heart who is finally failing him, the heart who is diagnosed ‘congestive heart failure’, as it lures him from his home, from his beloved children and grandchildren, to the florescent glow, the light falling over his frail form, glistening in the professional grace that pours melancholy all over this place, it is shameful, he feels the wounds from years gone, passing aches and pains, collected in his joints, blurring his ghostlike memories, as they fail to give him the answers, kindling only the briefest of hopes, a courage quietly lying about his condition as he grows more feeble, weaker than yesterday, today, he keeps listening for the laughter, children and grandchildren who silence the deafening songs, hospital sounds, soundless feelings, flooding him with memories, who tell of a life, a life more congested with heartfelt rivers, than the congested heart who leaves him breathless, needing the oxygen who relieves his gasping, wheezing, panting – the need for this hospital and all its uniformed travelers, nurses in black and blue and doom drifting in and out of his room, in and out of his truth, where he knows, without saying so, that this could become the last time he drifts from sleep, from prayer, to the dawn, where sun rises, and he doesn’t see the horizon, healing, blessing, fulfilling, as he remembers the past, with all its laughter, the joy and the hope and the lessons, learned through trial and error. His hands won’t work the way they did before, and when his daughter holds his hand, the feelings remember when, he held her like that first time, hesitantly, and gently as you might hold the heart, who is fading, the heart, time has left with a verdict, a conclusion that tells him and them, it is time – time, slowly running out… it is time, to lay down the doubts, the fears and the worries, to feel the consolation of knowing it is time, to release all the pain, to drift into the sturdy hands of the One whose love made a way, for every prayer to be answered, for every doubt to be undressed by the faith, faith that gives him hope, comfort, as the end grows closer than it has ever been, ending all his tears, his fears, the years that have lapsed into this faded glimpse, an eternity that will soon be his, as he travels through the sky, through the clouds, clinging to the One whose love is alive, the One whose love will never die, the One whose love will forever abide, collecting all the tears that have been cried, embracing all the prayers that were inspired… by the love that never grows old, the love that is eternal, the love that will be his, forever! despite the weariness, the fading of his heart, the old age that has left him weak, and knowing that his time is coming to a close… in his eyes, there is the reflection of a love, love that lives throughout all time, love that never dies, love that assures us of a life that will never grow old or die, a life that comes to those who believe Jesus is the reason we will forever be… Alive, throughout all time! in his hospital gown, the skeleton of the man who once held my hand…