The Promise

My Dear Bill,

In the early evening of April 25, 1986, You and I stood as bride and groom in my home church of First English in New Orleans, Louisiana, and in front of God, my pastor, and some 250 family members and friends in attendance, we made a solemn vow to each other.

We looked deeply into each other’s eyes and in turn spoke these familiar words to one another:

I, Bill, take you Terry, as my lawfully wedded wife –

And I, Terry, take you Bill,

as my lawfully wedded husband –

“To have and to hold,

from this day forward,

for better, for worse,

for richer, for poorer,

In sickness and in health,

to love and to cherish,

till death do us part.”

Since that day, we have shared a lifetime that has indeed included “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

Through it all, by God’s Grace, we both honored our commitment to God and to each other, and practiced (albeit it imperfectly) loving and cherishing each other.

Over the many years we were married, we shared many joys as well as quite a few heartbreaks.

Each time, as we celebrated those joys, and navigated our way through those heartbreaks, by the grace of God – our faith in God grew stronger, and our love and commitment to each other deepened.

“But nothing could have prepared us for the heartbreak that was coming for us both in April 2020.”

There was no hint in the air that our lives were about to come crashing down around us.

In fact, quiet the opposite, we were both looking forward to five days together in the beautiful spring weather, with no agenda other than to enjoy being with each other, and working together in the garden.

On an otherwise ordinary day, I waited for the text that you sent me every night when leaving the hospital. It always read “Coming home to you, now.”

Remember, I once asked you why you didn’t just text “coming home now?” Why you always included the words “to you?”

And you answered simply, “It wouldn’t be home if I wasn’t there to greet you.”

Only, that night – from the time you texted me – till the time you arrived home – within the hour – you had developed a fever. So we had to forgo our nightly hug and kiss, and we slept apart.

But neither of us slept much that night. You riddled with fever; and I, awake pleading with God, for you to just have the flu.

“Neither of us spoke the dreaded word ‘Covid.’ As if by avoiding speaking the word, we could avoid you having it.”

Things went from bad to worse, quickly.

If I had know then, when you were being taken off to the hospital, that that would be the last time I would see you in person, I would have wrapped my arms around you, and they would have had to pry me away, kicking and screaming.

But I didn’t. And you didn’t. Until we did.

You fought the virus courageously and with all you had in you for almost two weeks. I, along with family and friends, as well as literally hundreds of people around the world fought the battle with you, and for you, on our knees.

During this time the nurses who called me from the hospital three times a day with a report on you, always asked me if I needed anything.

My answer was always the same; I need to see my husband.

“I pleaded with them, begged them to help me get in to see you, to talk to you, to gently stroke your hand or cheek…so that you would know I was there.”

On the next one of the few conversations we were able to have, I remember announcing to you that I was trying to find a way to come and see you.

“Stop trying,” you said. “I don’t want you anywhere near this hospital – it’s a hotbed of Covid.” “Do you understand me?” “Promise me you won’t come.”

“Yes. I understand.” I replied. Even though I didn’t. “But that’s a promise I can’t make.”

“Don’t come up here” you insisted again.

“I love you.” I said.

“I love you, too.” you replied.

Immediately after that phone call with you, one of the nurses called to let me know they had arranged for me to safely come and see you. I would be met outside and dressed in full PPE equipment, and then escorted up to your room.

When I excitedly shared that news with you – you again told me not to come near the hospital for any reason.

I was so torn between honoring your request of me, and my desperate need to see you.

While I was still battling with this issue, your doctor called and told me that you needed to be put on a ventilator.

It was your only chance of recovery. He told me to prepare to come to the hospital as soon as possible, because this was a surgery, and I would be allowed to come to be with you both before and after.

He also told me that you would be calling soon, as we had to decide together if this is what we wanted before they could proceed.

You called about five minutes later. It was a brief, but intense conversation, to discuss and come to a p decision on whether or not you would go on the ventilator.

Since, it was your only chance of survival, we both agreed it must be done.

I then told you the doctor had told me I could come, and I would be there soon!

“No, Terry.” “Don’t come.” You said to me – AGAIN.

“I need you to promise me you won’t come up to this hospital no matter what happens.”

“But I need to see you!” I pleaded with you.

“No, Terry. It’s not safe! Promise me that you will NOT come under any circumstances. I can’t be put on this ventilator if you don’t make this promise. I can’t do this if I am worried about you. Promise me.” You pleaded.

“I promise,” I whispered between tears streaming down my face.

Five minutes later you called back – and said “They are here and taking me back now. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

That was the last time I would ever hear those words. The last time I would ever hear your voice.

After being put on the ventilator your health continued to fluctuate up and down.

The ventilator was doing most of your breathing for you. Your organs were shutting down.

Still I continued to pray – and those who also loved you – continued to pray – desperately – for your recovery – for a miracle.

On April 15, one of the Baptist Chaplains called me and said “Bill is dying, Terry. If you want to see him, you need to come now.”

“I can’t.” I told him sobbing. “I gave Bill my word I wouldn’t come to the hospital.”

The chaplain, without judging me, but with a heart full of compassion, asked me if I would like him to go in with his cell phone when it was time – so I could see and talk to Bill via FaceTime, even though he was still on the ventilator, and in a medically induced coma.

I told him I absolutely would!

Not much later he called to tell me your heart rate was 20 and you would not last much longer. “It’s time.” He said.

I still remember the words I spoke to you. Words I wanted so desperately to be there to speak to you in person, but words nevertheless, I was so grateful to speak to you via FaceTime.

I told you that I desperately wanted you to come home to me. But I also could see how very, very tired you were.

I told you that you had been fighting a hard and brave battle – and now it was time to for you to rest.

I told you to just REST in the Lord now, and to let Him CARRY you.

He would either carry you home to me – or carry you home to heaven. And we would wait to see which way He decided.

I told you how very much I loved you, Bill. And I thanked you for the privilege of loving you, and being loved by you.

During that time I could hear your heartbeat slowing even more. I could see the ICU nurses disconnecting tubes.

When I had finished speaking to you, I asked one of the ICU nurses if she would let me know when you actually passed away.

“He just did,” she told me. “He drifted off peacefully as you were speaking to him.”

Grief and Grace: God met me where I was and even in the midst of such grief, Grace Himself was there. He knew how desperately I wanted to be there with you in your final moments. And He knew how desperately you needed me to be there.

He made a way for us to be there together, without dishonoring our commitment to each other.

He also presented me with a beautiful gift hidden within the pain.

The realization that You loved me so deeply, that you would sacrifice your own needs to keep me safe.

And the realization that I loved you so deeply, that I would keep a promise to you I never wanted to make, as a last act of honoring you.

And so we came full circle with keeping our vows, my love…..

“To have and to hold,

from this day forward,

for better, for worse,

for richer, for poorer,

In sickness and in health,

to love and to cherish,

till death do us part…”