October
LANCE LAY AWAKE ON HIS SIDE, WATCHING KENDRA SLEEP. MOST nights she was the one awake, in pain and often in tears, trying to find respite. But right now she seemed peaceful. He traced her eyebrows growing in once again. They’d made the decision to stop chemo seven weeks ago. It was too painful, with no measurable offset. Kendra craved a better quality of life, for however much longer God would give her.
And thankfully, He’d given them a one-year anniversary—and the sweetest time together. To celebrate, they played their wedding song, “I Can Only Imagine,” and danced in their bedroom. Holding her, swaying with her, feeling her arms around him . . . He memorized every bit of it, taking none of their moments for granted.
Like now. He wanted to remember what it was like to lie beside her, to watch her chest rise and fall as she slept and the way her bottom lip sometimes moved.
Kendra exhaled slightly, and her eyes opened. She looked around, seeming confused.
“I’m here, baby,” Lance said. “You okay?”
Kendra looked at him, then glanced around again. “I guess . . . I was dreaming.”
“What was it about?” he asked.
“It felt like . . . I was in heaven.” Her breathing was labored. “I was walking . . . normal . . . and twirling, like . . . dancing. Happy.”
“That’s what’s coming,” he said. “No pain. No sickness. Just . . . joy.”
“It seemed like . . . it’s coming . . . now. Like . . . it’s time.”
Her words landed deep in his gut. He’d known this moment would come, but he wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready. Lord, not now. And yet I don’t want her to keep suffering.
Lance caressed her face. “God gave you to me as a treasure, to have, to hold, to love, and I’m so grateful.” His heart had never ached like this. “You couldn’t be more precious to me. You couldn’t be a better wife and friend. I couldn’t be more madly in love with you.”
Kendra gazed into his eyes. “I don’t know why God . . . loved me so much . . . that He’d give me His Son, and then . . . give me you.” She worked to get a breath. “Lance, God gave us this time . . . and even though it’s my time to go . . .”
Stop saying that. Lance let the tears flow.
“. . . it’s not yours.” Kendra touched his face. “Baby, keep letting God . . . use you . . . to love. His well in you . . . is deep.” She coughed away a nasty rattling sound. “I’m saying it whether . . . you like it or not . . . You are . . . amazing. I hope I loved you . . . half as much . . . as you loved me.”
Kendra coughed again, her chest lifting slightly from the bed. And when she exhaled, her head fell softly to the side.
Lance brought her to himself. “Kendra?” Oh, God . . . “Kendra?”
The grief contracted from deep within, rippling through his gut. Lance rocked with her in his arms, sobbing, needing the sound of her voice once more, the light in her eyes. How could she be gone? Just like that? How could their life together be over?
Lance stayed there, Kendra in his arms, sadness washing over him in a flood of memories. But with the memories, he was hearing a soundtrack. With one arm, he reached for his phone on the nightstand and played the song—“I Can Only Imagine.”
Now it was the words to the song washing over him, and the realization that he was the only one left imagining. Kendra no longer needed to. She knew what it was like to see Jesus, to be surrounded by His glory.
Fresh tears flowed—tears of grief still, but also tears of joy. He held her body, her diseased body, but Kendra was with the Lord. He laid her gently down and moved out of bed, getting down on his knees.
Lord, she was Your treasure before she was mine. You love her more than I ever could. Thank You for allowing me to love her for a short while. He exhaled hard, trying to get out from under the tears. Thank You for giving me such a gift in my lifetime.