Many years back, before becoming a chaplain, a friend called saying, “I have end stage carcinoma.” My heart went out to her. Following prayers said for her healing, she assured me, “I want to go.”  She was in her 50’s; somehow, I held my tongue.

Carol explored various religions, yet said, “None fit the bill for me.”  She liked believing only in what she could solidly see, touch, taste and smell . . . along with what she felt in her heart.  So I simply shared the journey with her, offering prayer at points, which she did not oppose. For sure, praying helped me, in my determining to “walk alongside” my friend on this, her last journey.

Carol loved books and had great interest in researching topics, one of which was cuneiform writing. Discussing these helped occupy her dexterous mind. Pain was present.

We talked on many topics of interest, fairly often agreeing with one another. Disagreements came and went, but failed to slow us down. Carol was “rich”—not monetarily, for sure, but in depth of soul. Much time has passed, yet, I still remember her laughter.

As the end of her days grew closer, Carol showed me the gown in which she wanted to be buried.  She was a grand and beloved person, attending closely to the things in life that triggered her interests. The story of Carol’s last days on earth was published in our hometown daily newspaper, the Idaho Statesman, in Boise, ID. It carried the words of her family members, the hospice staff and mine, revealing how death can be when everyone pulls together while reckoning with the ins and outs of dying.

I was with Carol often those days before her death, even on the evening she left us. She knew acceptance was the key to moving through it. I recall being worried, though, as she decided being an atheist best described what she felt.

Weeks before her leave-taking I gave a note to Carol while sitting at her bedside. It read:

“My dear friend, tuck this away for when you are too curious and must read.

Just in case. Would you please say this little prayer to God?

“God, if there is a heaven and Jesus’ words are true, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me,’ would You please be there when I die and take me to your home in heaven?

“If I am wrong in not believing and you are there for me—I want to know you, love you and join my friends who have believed. If this comes to be, please have mercy on me and take me in. I just don’t have what it takes to believe. Perhaps you can yet bring it to be?”

Carol read the note immediately, then looked up with a big smile on her face, saying, “Oh, Joy, I have already done that!”

The laugh was on me; but today, I savor that moment.

At a viewing of Carol’s body, I sat alone in the room. Something unusual was felt. It was as if a golden glow filled the room. I thought of concerns that plagued after that last night with Carol . . . now wondering, was I as helpful to her as I could have been? Knowing the Scriptures well, did I share passages with her that could assure her that she would make it to heaven? Was I right in inwardly rejoicing over her response of “having covered that?”

Sometimes our surmising, when heartfelt, are all the guidance we need while seeking to discern something. Still, there were moments while sitting in that room with her body, during which I questioned, “Did I do enough for her?”

It is true, always within grief we experience some elements of guilt.

Many years have passed. Today, I think of the things I learned through relating with Carol. Sometimes relationships don’t end well. And, there, too, we meet with self-doubt.

And how do we work our way through self-doubt? By giving it room, deciding what’s true, and learning what we can from it.

Inside the cover of The Interlinear Bible Hebrew, Greek, English, with which she gifted me, Carol wrote, “Joy, Hope you enjoy this Book. I found your friendship very refreshing. Keep making good choices. Lots of love, Carol. Thank you.”

Within the golden glow sensed I held the essence of Carol and our friendship. My spirit was quickened by a Scripture passage, “Be still and know that I am God.” What a blessing it is to believe God takes us right  where we are. God’s love for us is grand—and knowing this is glorious!