Jack ...

We lost a friend a week ago, and while emotions have normalized, the first few days after Jack died, my heart felt like it was broken into a hundred pieces.

Jack was 96 years old.  He'd only a few months ago given up driving, but he'd been steadily failing in health since his wife, Ruth, passed two years ago.  We watched the decline.  I told myself to count each encounter as precious, and I did, but now I feel I didn't have nearly enough of those precious encounters.

Early in the summer, when we learned Jack went into Hospice care, I enlisted the prayers of my Bible study friends to pray for Jack's comfort and peace in whatever days he had left.

After Jack passed, one of those friends asked me how we knew Jack.  It was a pleasure to tell her, and I've decided to record it here.

From 2016-2020, I was a very part-time companion caregiver for Jack's wife, Ruth.  The story of how I came to be Ruth's caregiver is in this compilation of things that I've been up to in my "retirement".  And I've written a few times about days spent with Ruth that can all be found here.

Ruth had mild dementia at the time, and needed someone to be with her when Jack wasn't home.  When Ruth's regular caregiver was going on vacation in 2016, she contacted me and asked me if I would be interested in filling in for her.    

While I knew the other caregiver (through a Bible study I'd attended for years by that time), I really couldn't quite understand why she had asked me to fill in for her.  But after a long conversation, I finally said yes.  And that began an enrichment in my life I never could have imagined.

Ruth continued to play the organ and piano for a number of years after dementia began to steal her memories.  Sometimes we played duets, Ruth on the organ, me on the piano playing with one hand, trying to keep up.

While I had conversations with Jack during the years I cared for Ruth, I mostly got to know him through conversations with Ruth.  While Ruth's short-term memory was nearly nonexistent, her long-term memory was largely intact.  And because Ruth would forget a conversation shortly after having it, I got to hear the stories many times.

I learned that as a young serviceman in the Navy, Jack used a two-week leave to attend a residential Bible study in another state.  There he met Ruth, and I can only imagine how quickly they fell in love.  In Jack's last months he joked that he wasn't sure if he had paid for Ruth's meals when he took her out during that time.

Jack and Ruth married.  In time, they adopted a son, and had two daughters that they raised in Illinois.  Ruth told me often how they took in an aging aunt, building a room onto their house for her to live there.  According to Ruth, Aunt Di helped with the children, and she enjoyed the safety and comfort of a loving family. 

Jack built an auto repair business, and eventually sold it.  In his "retirement", Jack and Ruth decided to relocate nearer their daughters, and they moved to our little town in Indiana about 22 years ago.  After moving here, Jack worked at a funeral home, served as a church elder, enjoyed playing basketball, taking cruises with Ruth (they especially loved Bill Gaither cruises, I think).  Since I came to know Jack and Ruth late in their lives, I don't know anywhere close to what all Jack did in the 86 years before we met, but what I am confident of is that he and Ruth both lived full and faithful lives.

When I met Jack in 2016, it was obvious even to me that he had slowed down significantly from his younger years.   He was still working at the funeral home.  He was a joke teller extraordinaire, and he often treated people to dinner.  We (and many other friends of Jack) were invited a number of times to have dinner at the Hibachi Grill at the assisted living community where Jack and Ruth had built their retirement home.

When Ruth required full time nursing care, Greg began to become friends with Jack.  They, and a couple of other men had regular breakfasts together (or maybe it was that Greg joined the already existing "breakfast club").   Jack had quite a social life.  It seemed to me he met someone for breakfast, lunch or dinner almost every day.  In fact, the morning after Ruth died, Greg and some of these men had their regularly scheduled breakfast date with Jack at the diner they frequented.  

Speaking of the diner - Jack was such a beloved regular there, the waitresses gave him a birthday cake and gifts when we gathered there with other friends for his 96th birthday in May.  In fact, Greg introduced Jack to the whole diner and asked them to join us in singing Happy Birthday to him.  It was quite a sound that rang out, and several came up to Jack as they were leaving to thank him for his military service. It was such a fun and sweet celebration.

My apologies for turning the camera upside down at the end of the video above.

Over the summer, Greg and I visited with Jack (each of us separately, usually) and because talking had become difficult for him, we just spent quiet time with him. 

There were a few points while in Hospice care that Jack gained some strength, and he was able to drive a scooter in the halls of the assisted living center he had recently moved into.  When he felt up to it, he enjoyed going to the dining room or bistro.   

Truth is, though, Jack lost his appetite many months ago, and by the time Jack was in Hospice care, he was eating only a few bites each day.  But if he felt up to going to the dining room or bistro, he enjoyed meeting friends there.

It was my deep honor to be able to spend some time alone with Jack, as it turned out, the day before he died.  He couldn't talk, and mostly he slept, but when he opened his eyes, he gave me the gift of looking at me, and letting me know he knew who I was.  His hand squeezing mine as he drifted back to sleep was another precious gift. When Greg came in a little later, he woke up again, and it was clear he knew who Greg was too. 

It was my plan with Jack's daughters that I would also spend some time on Thursday with Jack.  I was honored to be asked.  I was looking forward to spending more time with him, when I got the text close to midnight Wednesday night that Jack had passed.

Just like that.  It was over.  No more visits.  No more Jack jokes.  For Jack, no more missing Ruth, no more breathing struggles. No more lonely hours.  As many people as there are who loved Jack, and even with daughters deeply devoted to caring for their father, there were undoubtedly many lonely hours missing Ruth.

Everything about my relationship and friendship with Ruth and then Jack feels like a gift. I feel changed by those two people.  And I am so grateful for it.

My faith instructs me that we will meet again someday, and I am looking forward to it.  Today, there is a hole in the shape of these two beautiful friends that I navigate around as I do everyday things. I'm waiting for the disappointed feelings to fade as I pass the corner where I would turn to enter their retirement neighborhood to visit. 

So many life lessons, I expect, are yet to be discovered because of viewing life now through the prism of Jack and Ruth's influence.  

I think it's fair to say, Jack and Ruth lived their lives generously, humble and true to their Christian faith, never imagining how deeply they were leaving their mark on this earth and in many hearts. 

Goodbye for now, friends.  Until we "meet again on that beautiful shore".