My darling,
This week I received a text from a friend letting me know that he is praying for us. He went on to say that his father went into hospice during Easter and it is a sad reminder during the Easter season until this day. I understand his sentiment.
This morning as I did my Advent studies and watched the calendar advance I realize that hospice, while a season of comfort and finality, is not contrary to Advent, which is a season of hope.
Advent prepares our heart for the season that changed the course of history, our calendars, our lives. Christmas is, for the Christian, imbued with hope, redemption and the transition from one covenant to another.
It strikes me that hospice, for the survivors, serves a similar purpose. Like Advent, hospice is about transition, but it is not void of hope, nor does it lack a sense redemption. For me it has become a time of reflection, a reminder of God’s faithfulness to us. A time for us.
Hospice will not mar Advent, not now, not in the future. It will serve as a faithful reminder of our longing and hope.
I have told the kids we have transitioned from good days to good hours. We still measure quality, however, our rule has shortened. I am reminded of what I said in letter 16:
“My message is simple. Our time, be it little or large, ought not to be measured in months or days, but by moments. I will take all of the moments.”
This is our time, sweetheart, to savor the moments. A time to reflect, a season to grieve, yes, but not as those who lack hope. As I cuddled up next to you in the middle of the night, your reaction, even though half asleep and sedated, was to nestle in close and secure.
Providence has merged the two great loves of my life into a single season of hope. My love for you shall never fade, nor shall my hope for the future diminish.
Together we shall enjoy this, our final Advent. Together we shall worship. Together we shall hope.
I love you dearly.
Brad