My love has gone home to Jesus.
Two weeks ago. For two weeks I haven't wanted to really write the words. I still don't want them to be true.
Hubby has gone home to Jesus.
For four months and nine days, Hubby lived with the diagnosis of glioblastoma. Eighteen and a half weeks. One hundred and thirty-one days. He was sick for six weeks before we found what was wrong. The most deadly form of brain cancer. Glioblastoma, which is Stage 4, and microscopic throughout the entire brain by the time doctors can see a tumor.
I have learned what a thief glioblastoma is. It stole so much from my sweet Hubby. Muscle weakness. Steroid-induced diabetes. He lost the ability to complete any task independently. Extreme osteoporosis that caused 7 compression fractures (breaks) in his back. The pain was excruciating.
Despite all of it, Hubby still said that his one goal in life was for others to see God in his story. No matter how his story ended, he wanted people to see the glory of God. His care. His mercy. His grace. His loving kindness. His salvation that is promised to each of us if we simply ask.
His body grew so weak, but his spirit-man was strong. He wanted more days, more moments with his family. He wanted to take his flesh captive and tell it to keep going. His strength was inspiring.
Our solace comes in knowing that Hubby is the proud owner of a new body in his true home, Heaven. He is with His Savior. He is no longer suffering. He's been made whole.
Even still, I cannot imagine a life without him.
Yet, God's grace has been so present. He has made His care for us so evident- from a new stove and dishwasher to a van gifted to us to 21 weeks of meals (four days per week) lovingly prepared by the Body of Christ.
He will provide for our every need. Just like He always has.
But, oh, how we miss Hubby.
Connie, I am so very, very sorry to read this today. I will be praying for you and lifting your family in the days and weeks to come. Cancer is a terrible, evil, thief. God bless you, and I pray your husband’s story will impact others and they will see Jesus in the way he lived – and the way he lived while dying.
I am so sorry, Connie. I only meet your husband a couple of times, but I think you’ll like my strongest memory of him. It was that first 2 to 1 Conference when we had an impromptu Sunday morning worship service. It wasn’t planned, but someone asked Cheryl if we could meet in the unused room at the hotel.
Your husband, who had been a bit of a fish out of water in the sea of women, but never acted uncomfortable continued that trend. Raising his hands, he unashamedly sang and worshipped Jesus in the hotel conference room. The sight brought tears to my eyes and the memory still does.
He impacted those around him in life and I know he will do no less in death. I’m praying for you and your family.
Connie,
My heart aches with yours. I can’t imagine your pain to watch your life changing before you, and not being able to fix it, and to have to say good-bye.
Know that you are surrounded with prayers!
I am so sorry. I pray for you and your children. God is good and will be there for you.
I am so sorry for your loss! I am praying for you even now and for your precious family. May you be held by the loving arms of our Abba and he comforts you as only he can.
Connie, I’m so sorry for your loss! GBM is really one of the most difficult cancers to cure because of the difficulty that drugs have traversing the blood brain barrier. I’m glad that you at least had some time to enjoy with your hubby. 🙁
Eternal memory!