As it has most likely become painfully obvious to the few of you still
attempting to follow my blog, I am no longer making entries. The time has come
to bring it to an end. There will be 2-3 entries following this one in order to
deal with the major events of my life.
I am currently writing a book and am on a deadline. I fine that I
cannot write in both places and keep up the pace. Then there is the issue of
this old man’s eyes getting tired.
In fairness, I was never sure what I was going to do regarding my story
after I left Canby, but here’s a summary.
My wife dies on Fathers Day in
1992. Her diagnosed illness was short lived. We knew her breathing was becoming
more difficult in the fall of 1991. We were repeatedly told it was asthma, but
she responded to none of the treatment. In January of 1992 we were finally
referred to a specialist and told it was emphysema and informed there was no
cure. We were told is was likely she had at least two years to live.
It was obvious that she was going
to need more care than my traveling was going to allow. Sensing this, I turned
down the job I had always wanted for two reasons: 1) it would increase my
travel, and 2) it would removed us from a very good support group. I wanted to
be home nights to care for her and her friends would come around her when
necessary. They were so wonderful I could not bear to take her out of the
environment.
When an opportunity came up to
apply for the job as job as executive pastor at Salem Alliance, I believed it
could work. I would be home most nights and we were close enough to Canby to
have her support continue. We candidated at Salem at the end of April. She went
to the hospital the next with pneumonia. After two days there, she returned
home. Everything appeared better until the a week before Father’s Day. She
appeared to be getting pneumonia again on Friday. On Saturday friends John and
Donna Barach arrived for a visit. Donna and Della had been childhood friends
and we were all in Bible College together. Clearly we could all see that she
was no feeling well, but being a very stubborn lady, she refused to rest or
leave her guest or ask them to leave. She wanted the there.
After they left (early then
planning), I told her I was going to take her to the hospital. She refused. I
felt like I would have had to knock her out and carry her to the car. I
accepted it, but told if that if she was not better on Sunday, she was going.
She was worse. At the hospital they eased her pain a bit and said they were
going to do a biopsy Monday morning. I was with her early on Monday staying
until she was taken for the biopsy. I told her I was run some errands that
needed to be done and be back when they brought her to her room.
When returning, I was taken to
ICU. I was told she was not year ready to be moved and that the doctor would
come and talk to me. I had returned to the hospital be 1:00 and was the only
one in the waiting room. The doctor did not come out until 4:30, Meanwhile, I
am watching a lot of equipment being taken into ICU and it didn’t take long to
believe it was for Della.
Eventually, the doctor came and
told me that her lungs has collapsed droning the tests and she was on a
ventilator, but she would never be able to breath on her own. She doubted Della
would survive more than a day or two. She never spoke to me again after I
kissed her, said goodbye and told her I would see her later.
She passed away the following
Sunday as I was returning to the hospital after sleeping that night. Her
mother, brother and sister were at the house.
Rod was living on the streets of
Portland and during that week, people from the church searched Portland try8ing
to find him. He had a certain look and they approached everyone with a similar
appearance and asked if they knew Rod please give him a message to call his
father. He got back to me, but would not come to see her. After she passed
away, we found him again and asked him to come to her funeral. He refused, but
showed up in time.
I had resigned at the district and
was to begin in Salem in September. I had two responsibilities left. Family
Campo was first, but it pretty well ran its self. Many stepped in to help. The
other was administrative director for LIFE 92. At that point in time I one
wrote down what others needed to know. I had normally stored my part in my head
and had done that with a great many details of LIFE 92. Rob McCelland, a good friend
and former pastor in our district flew out and spent a week with me to glean
the details and get them on paper. I could not have done it without him. I was
still deeply stunned by Della’s death. Rhonda and Chris came to help out. They
were not yet engaged.
That August, I took both my kids
to New York and the east coast to build new memories. They were new alright.
While Rhonda and I had a good time, Rod separated from us and told us he was
not coming back. We left him and returned, but my heart was broke.
NEXT: Rodney’s life