Chap. 25: The Discovery

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Discovery
She Led The Way



I left my parents' house around 11:10, and stopped to fill the gas tank on the way home, at the Clark station as usual. Since we'd gotten to know most of the attendants by sight now, and they knew us, we usually chatted a bit as I paid the tab. This particular night the girl behind the counter, whom we knew quite well, asked me where I'd gotten the CB antenna I had on the truck, pointing out that the lady station manager wanted to get one like it for her husband. I wrote a note for the manager, telling her where I'd purchased it and the price I'd paid. Then, following the usual com-ments about the weather, I left.
11:30 P.M. I carefully backed the truck into the garage. As I entered the building a few moments later, I was thinking about the work I'd just completed on Jack Schooley's upright. I un-locked our front door.
Immediately upon entering the apartment, a strong odor gave me the unmistakable impres-sion that Linda had a bad case of diarrhea. For some unknown reason, I didn't call out my usual "Hi." I didn't even take my coat off. I walked briskly down the hallway toward the bathroom. The light was on. I didn't even realize, then, that she hadn't greeted me, either. I just walked up to the bathroom doorway, turned and looked in, expecting her to be attempting to conquer the odiferous problem at hand.
I found her, though, in another all too familiar position. Fully clothed, she was laying over the side of the tub, like I'd seen her before when a seizure struck at those times. I was not shocked at the sight. It was too familiar. But there was something just slightly different about her position. Only I couldn't put my finger on it...
Subconsciously I sensed that the end had come, because something else was different this time, too. In this position she should have been moving about if she was still in the initial stage of the seizure, or noisily snoring with her heavy, rapid breathing, as she slept it off in “Phase II”. But she was neither moving, nor making any sound. Consciously, I went through the motions as I thought: "Get her weight off her stomach so she can breathe easier." The idea that something was wrong began to tap the far reaches of my conscious mind as I noticed that I was doing all the work, and she made no effort to move on her own. Feeling warm with the exertion, I removed my coat. I changed my position to get better leverage, and I suddenly realized His reason for all those times we’d played the "paralysis" game. He knew I'd need the practice for this day. On my next attempt, my hands accidentally slipped beneath her top, coming into direct contact with her skin. My con-scious mind got another signal: she felt unusually cold to the touch. A pang or two of knowledge shot to the heart. It was countered, though, by the loud sound of Linda exhaling through those clenched teeth. The sound was familiar, and that much was reassuring, as it had always been to me. But only for a moment; the sound was not repeated. (I would realize, later, that the sound had been created as I’d tried to lift her. Unintentionally I had squeezed the last breath of life she would ever take, back out of her lungs. JAW 10/5/00). Following this unsuccessful attempt, I finally climbed into the tub and stood astride her head. I reached down with both arms, getting them under her armpits, and lifted her up and back, onto her knees, outside the tub.
Only then did I notice that her head didn't fall forward as it should have, were she totally relaxed, which would have been normal. Its position was unchanged from the time I picked her up. Steadying her with my left hand on her shoulder, I gently brushed her beautiful, long, jet black hair out of her face with my right. At the very instant that I saw her face, I knew everything I needed to know. Yes, she was dead. Her skin had already turned blue in color. But I wasn’t shocked, or of-fended, or repulsed by the sight. There was just too much love between us. I had to look at her. I wanted to look at her. Suddenly, as I looked at her face, it felt as though we were talking, without speaking.
“Yes, Jim, I’ve gone to be with our Lord. But it’s OK. I’m truly, genuinely happy, darling. Please remember that, honey, and please don’t worry. I know you miss me, but we’ll be together again. And yes, sweetheart, I know you never stopped loving me. I’ll love you forever, darling. And now I really can. All My Loving, Lin. P.S.: I love you.”
And without moving my lips I heard myself responding: “Another Beatles’ title even now, huh, sweetheart? I should have known.” I felt myself smiling at that thought, both inside and out. “I love you, too, Squeek. And yes, I know you’re with Him. There’s no doubt in my mind about that, darling. But I don’t want you to leave. I still need you, honey. I wish you’d stayed. I always figured we’d grow old together. We were just really getting our life started, sweetheart. Please stay with me, darling. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” Suddenly, I couldn’t think of anything else to “say” except “Goodbye my darling, my sweetheart. Always remember, Linda, I love you, and I al-ways will.”
I’d been facing her the whole time, but my mind had focused on the words we were “speaking” rather than her image. When our “conversation” ended, I once again looked into that lovely face. Most willingly. It destroyed me inside that she was gone from my side. But at least she was at peace. She had felt nothing at the end. And she wasn't suffering anymore. The schoolmates' taunting, people turning away, even our petty arguments and bedroom problems. That was all be-hind her now. As my conscious mind accepted more of the situation, I suddenly became aware of how the Lord will take care of the smallest detail, even at times like this. Her eyes were closed. He knew I couldn't have taken seeing them open. Because in the early stages of a seizure, her eyes rolled back, and to the left. All I would have seen was the solid white of the surrounding eyeballs. And He knew that. But the real peace of mind came from her mouth. Her lips were parted. When I'd first spotted her face moments before, it was her mouth that told me that the end had indeed come in the initial stage of a seizure; that, thankfully, it had been instantaneous, and that therefore, she had felt absolutely nothing. Remember back when she told me there was one thing I could do to help? “If you’re around when a seizure starts, try and gently push me clear of anything nearby that I could get hurt on or move those things out of my way. I won’t feel anything, so you can do what-ever you need to do to keep me from getting hurt.” And now, as I beheld that same mouth with conscious knowledge of the situation, I noticed, too, that He had even let her have the last word (laugh?) after all, and I smiled. I just loved that thought: "She deserves it," I said aloud. How did I know these things? How did I know she felt nothing, and that He let her have the last word? An-other minor detail that He loved us enough to take care of: she was sticking her tongue out at me. And it couldn't have been a more peaceful, loving gesture. For her, or for Him. And it was done for me.
"Ennnhhh yourself!" I said aloud, smiling, both inside and out for just a moment.
I didn't even take the time to hug her (I would wish later that I had done so one final time). But as I turned to place the phone call, I realized that I beheld something even more peaceful, and loving, and meaningful. Yes, she was still on the bathroom floor, in front of me, but she was on her knees, looking toward heaven. And I couldn't have felt better. As I stood there looking at her, for one lingering moment, knowing she wouldn't have wanted the end to be any other way (than His plan), I thought silently, "Thank you, Lord, for being so gentle and loving. To her in the way You called her, and to me in letting me be the first to find her, and giving me these moments of Peace and Love, with her and with You. In Jesus' name, Amen."
I slowly turned and went to the phone. Now that my communion with Him was complete (for the time being), and I had to operate on a human level once again, the human reaction of shock began to set in. Going through what I perceived to be the "proper channels", I contacted the opera-tor, and asked for the life squad.
Rapidly but distinctly I stated the nature of the emergency, making sure to pinpoint our lo-cation, and to state that she wasn't breathing.
As I hung up the phone, I realized how much my body had begun to tremble. Without turn-ing to look at her (that move was unintentional), I made my way to the front door of the building to watch for them. Shortly, they arrived. Seconds later they confirmed my belief that she was dead. One of the men asked to use the phone, and called the police.
About five minutes later, two uniformed policemen arrived, and discussed the situation in detail, with the life squad team and myself. By now, my shock was openly obvious. I was sitting in "our" chair in the living room, my voice dry and raspy because my throat was in the same condi-tion. And my hands would shake whenever I would let go of the chair arms. The questions came and went:
"How long had she been an epileptic?"
"Were you here when it happened?"
“Did you move her body?”
"Could we have a sample of her medication please?"
"How old was she?"
"When had she last seen the doctor?"
"What's the doctor's name?"
"Where's his office?"
"What's his phone number?"
I found myself really surprised that I had no trouble answering their questions. It felt good to talk about her; about us. Soon the questions were over and they filled me in on what would hap-pen next.
"She'll be taken to the hospital, and from there to the morgue. It will be up to the Coroner to decide about doing an autopsy. I'm afraid you won't have any say in the matter."
"No problem. I'd want them to do one anyway. I'd like to know the real reason myself."
He probably will do one because of her age."
A few minutes later, they asked me to step out into the hall; that they were going to bring her out. I knew I could handle it, with the depth of our love and the Lord being in charge, but I de-cided not to rock the boat. I went into the hall and halfway up the first flight of stairs to the second floor, because I knew they'd have to use some of the staircase area to get her out the front door. In a moment they came through the apartment door with the stretcher. I could see the outline of her body under the sheet. I was right. They tilted her up on her feet and climbed five stairs to turn the stretcher around and get it through the front door of the building. And with that, they were gone. Slowly, I descended the stairs and re-entered the apartment.

My throat still dry as a bone, I took a large swallow of ice water before sitting back down in the chair. Reaching for my King James Bible, I held it to my heart and prayed:

“Father in Heaven, it's not easy, but I praise You for the
events of this night, for I know You have a reason for them.
You've taken it all, now, Lord. I have nothing left but my faith in
You. You'll have to take over, Lord, because now I don't know where
I'm going or what I'm doing. You lead me, and I will follow.”

And then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. He had called Linda Home because her task here was finished. Her going would remove the last obstacle between me and the Spirit. Now, after three years of agony (from the time we received the Spirit in 1977 and her prayer language immediately began, until now) over how to get my perfectionist, have-to-be-in-charge-of-my-life attitude out of the way and let His Spirit manifest itself, He does the job for me.
I suddenly realized, too, that the outcome would have been the same whether He had called her, or asked her if she would be willing to do it if it would ensure my full Commitment. If He called her, she willingly went out of love for, and obedience to Him. If He asked her, she went just as willingly, out of love for me, and for Him. Remember that “devotion to duty”? She could never do enough for me. And how she said many, many times how she always said that she hoped and actually prayed that she would find a way to show me how much my love really and truly meant to her? How she said, “It’s not just in my heart, honey. It’s become part of what I am”? There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever that she was even more than willing to die for me. I should have known that she would lead the way for me. She’d finally found a way she could really, truly show me, in a way I could not possibly mistake, how genuinely important and meaningful the love I had given her these 14 years had been to her. Her deep desire to do that had been fulfilled. (But to this day I can’t help but wish she’d waited a few years longer before leaving, if it was her choice. Quite a few. Like... a lifetime. JAW 6/23/00)

They never did an autopsy. Even after a phone call from our doctor. He wanted it too, for the same reason I did - what was the cause of death? And he also wanted desperately to find out if the seizure was related to those headaches and that dizziness he'd mentioned, which she'd experi-enced about a week before, for three straight days.
That we would never know. But I felt an almost compelling need to know the true cause of death. Would it ever be satisfied? Or diminish with time?


This work is taken from “A Once In A Lifetime Love: An Autobiography of Two High School Sweethearts”, copyright 2000, as yet unpublished, by the same author.