I first met Paul when I was visiting his roommate at the nursing home. He stayed in his room and did not associate with the other nursing home residents. He did tolerate his roommate because the roommate slept most of the time. In the weeks I visited, I learned a bit about Paul. He was 85 years old and terrified that he was going to die.
This may sound strange for a man who had surpassed his actuarial age, but he desperately wanted to believe that he would live forever. Why? Because he grew up in a church that told him he was a sinner and all sinners die and go to Hell. Sure, he heard the occasional sermon about forgiveness and grace. But Paul believed his sins were so great that God would never forgive him. So, he figured he would not die. The Devil could not get his hands on Paul while he was still breathing. Paul would just keep breathing. But since he had moved into the nursing home, he was surrounded by dying. Holding onto not dying was a lot harder. He found himself locked in a daily battle with the fear of dying. He tried to avoid older people and would desperately reach out to anyone under 60. But the fear kept coming back.
When his roommate died, I no longer needed to see Paul. Several months later, I saw Paul in the activity room after making my rounds in the nursing home. He was playing Bingo. I could not believe he was out of his room, so I stopped by to say hello.
“Paul! How are you doing? I didn’t know you liked Bingo.”
Paul replied, “I don’t, but they will not let me start a game of Strip Poker.” I laughed with him.
Paul was different from the man I met in my former patient’s room. I suppose my face told him more than I was saying.
“You look surprised to see me out of my room.:” Paul paused, “Let’s go over to the couch. I want to tell you about Arnie.”
After settling in, Paul told me about his new roommate, Arnie. It turned out that Arnie was his angel.
Just before moving in with Paul, Arnie had been diagnosed with end-stage liver disease. He knew that he was going to die very soon. Under the usual circumstances, Paul would have huddled in the corner of his room. But, according to Paul, Arnie was somebody very special. Paul described him as somebody you want to be around. Arnie was so comfortable with himself and his situation that Paul could not wrap his head around his attitude.
Paul then went on to tell me about several conversations he had with Arnie.
“Did you know that some churches talk more about forgiveness than Hell? Arnie grew up in one of those. He talked about how God didn’t punish folks for their sin. Most folks do that all their own. In fact,” Paul continued, “Arnie said that God was able to forgive us, no matter what we have done. And I believe him. He told me some of the stuff he had done, and they made me feel like a choirboy. But Arnie was not afraid of death. He was worried about the dying part, but he knew he did not have a room in Hell with his name on the door.”
Paul then talked about watching Arnie suffer through his death. Paul was amazed at how much courage and hope he found in those last few weeks. The way Paul told it, Arnie knew who he was and was not scared by it. According to Paul, Arnie found hope because he knew he would be remembered as a good father, Grandpa, friend, and fabulous husband. He honestly believed that his friends, children, and grandchildren would remember him well and may even take some of the good they found in him with them into the rest of their lives.
At that moment, Paul choked up. “Arnie gave me a great gift, hope. And I will take that with me into whatever eternity has in store for me.” Arnie said, “You know, the night Arnie died, he perked up and wanted to talk. He told me about his deceased wife of 62 years and his children. He remembered the good times and many of the people who were part of his life. And then, right about bedtime, Arnie said the strangest thing, ‘Paul, you are a good friend. I have had so many good friends. God has taken good care of me and that ain’t gonna stop anytime soon. Sleep well, my friend; I know I will.’
The next morning when I woke up, Arnie didn’t. And all I could say to him was, “Sleep well, my friend. I know I will.”
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