Glory Bound

“When I hear that trumpet sound, I will lay my burdens down…I’ll be travelin’ far from home…I’m waiting for that train to come. I know where she’s coming from. Listen can you hear her on the track? When I board I won’t be looking back…Hallelujah. ”
- from “Glory Bound,” a song by Ruth Moody

I was an EMT on an ambulance a few years back. One of the things you do a lot of on an ambulance is haul elderly people back and forth from the hospital to their home or nursing home. These trips become more frequent as a person’s health declines, and after a while, you begin to know these passengers pretty well – and, how they look health-wise.

One thing I observed is, as a person’s health begins to seriously fail, the person takes on an increasingly transparent look - as if they are slowly becoming more of a reflection of themselves than the real thing.

Much to the amusement of my paramedic colleagues, I tried to explain what I was seeing in these patients as being “like a really well-worn T-shirt – a favorite that’s been worn and washed a million times. There’s no holes in it, but the cloth has gotten really thin, almost like you can see right through it...” Many laughs generated there - but, to me the phenomenon is real. And, I still see it happening around me today.

In fact, a beloved and elderly neighbor of mine seems to become slightly more translucent every time I see her. In her case, the translucence may come as much from her rock solid faith in God, and her excitement about that faith, as it comes from failing health, as she’s actually doing better physically than she has in a long time.

The other evening I was sitting with her, chatting, enjoying the birds singing and the cool spring air. Somehow the topic turned to heaven and how her face lit up! It lit up so brightly it was almost aglow, and in that instant, her translucence became really obvious.

She began to tell me about how she hopes to see her sisters in heaven, and how much fun it’s going to be to be able to move about quickly again. We joked about her needing running shoes in heaven, because she’d have so much ground to cover…What a joy-filled conversation it was - my neighbor so sure of her next stop, and me, so uplifted by her version of what heaven would be like.

I went home that night, and sat wondering for quite awhile – out in the dark yard, stars shining brightly above – what it would be like to be that sure of where death will take you…How comforting that must be. My faith is strong, but I’m still really afraid of death, and the details of what comes next are pretty hazy in my mind…

At the hospital, in the emergency room, where I now work as a social worker, you see death relatively often. It comes in many shapes and forms, and is kinder to some than others. In a “good” death, the person is elderly and has lived a long, full life. He or she has family gathered around. They seem close to one another, and their faith is strong. Often the person who is dying knows he or she is about to pass, and often there seems to be an uncanny peace about the process.

It is not uncommon for the dying person to focus on a part of the room where no one is standing, and begin to talk to someone in the family who has already died – as if they were at the bedside along with the living. In these cases, one of the family members will explain that, “Mama’s been doing that a lot lately - talking to my brother, as if he’s still here. He’s been gone for nearly 25 years - died in a car wreck when he was young. I’m not sure why she thinks he’s here, but she sure has been talking about him a lot lately. Before now, it’s been years since she’s spoken his name.”

Sometimes it’s a parent, or a spouse, or a sibling the dying person sees and begins to talk with. Occasionally, it’s just a “beautiful angel, surrounded by light”… According to the scientists, when a person is very sick, or about to die, their blood and brain chemistry changes, and they hallucinate. There are no long lost relatives in the room, no angels – only messed up potassium levels and such…

That may be, but I prefer my version, where a person on their way from this world to the next begins to make a transition…and a little while later, loved ones who have already made the trip show up to guide them…I sincerely hope my neighbor has a good many years left on this earth, but it makes me less sad to think of her going, whenever that occurs, knowing that she will be greeted by her sisters, who will be holding running shoes for her to don, once she passes those pearly gates…or boards that train…or simply fades away in a cloud of comfortable, old T-shirt-like translucence.