January/February 2003
Frank and Rose and Greg and Karen
by Greg Albrecht
| What does the future hold? Physically, I don't know. But I do know that by God's grace the eternal salvation of those who accept Jesus Christ is secure. |
Frank had one reason to keep living -- to take care of Rose. His wife Rose was age 89, legally blind and extremely hard of hearing. By contrast, Frank was a youthful 94. He still had a car and a driver's license.
One Sunday afternoon Frank told Rose he was going to move the car into the garage -- and that she should stay in the house. As Frank drove the car down their narrow driveway toward the garage, apparently Rose suddenly walked out from the side of the house into the driveway.
Shocked to see his wife directly in front of the car, Frank tried to slam on the brakes -- but hit the accelerator instead. The car bolted over Rose and crashed through the still-closed garage door before Frank could stop it.
The next-door neighbors heard the crash and came rushing over, only to find Frank slumped at the wheel, in shock, sobbing that Rose was under the car.
Across the street and a few houses down, we were unpacking our car after a long road trip to visit our family. My wife heard the sirens first. By the time we walked into our front yard, the street was filled with several police cars, two ambulances and three fire trucks.
Firemen used hydraulics to lift the car off Rose, and rushed her to the hospital -- she had a pulse when they left. But Rose was dead on arrival, her frail body overwhelmed by the trauma of her injuries. On hearing the news, Frank was hysterical, blaming himself for killing his dear wife. He, too, was taken to the hospital for treatment.
After Frank and Rose were gone, neighbors gathered for hushed and solemn conversations in the shadows of early evening. Some neighbors met each other for the first time. Other neighbors had not talked for years, because of long-standing misunderstandings.
Frank and Rose bought their home in 1948, and had lived in it ever since -- more than 54 years. Some neighbors remarked that Frank and Rose had lived in their home longer than they had been alive.
After talking with neighbors, we walked back to our house. We couldn't stop thinking of Frank, and we didn't stop praying for him. We were in the middle of our own crisis -- concerned about a battery of medical tests my wife had undergone in the past few weeks. Within a few days after hearing the shocking news about Rose's death, my wife, Karen, was tested for cancer. An oncologist called Karen the next evening. He said what no one ever wants to hear, "I'm sorry, but the tests came back positive for carcinoma."
Suddenly, against our will, we were forced on the roller coaster ride of cancer. Cancer had been something other people battled. Now cancer became an unwanted and unwelcome guest in our lives. We cried, we prayed, we researched, we cried some more and prayed a lot more, and we consulted with a number of specialists. We were advised that we should not wait too long for surgery, so six weeks after the tragedy involving Frank and Rose, my wife had surgery performed.
The surgery was successful, and we were relieved to hear the words, "It looks like we got it all." We were amazed and thankful for the wonderful support and care demonstrated by family and friends. We were, and are, thankful for the many ways God answered our prayers.
Karen is recovering, being tested regularly and following a treatment protocol. We have changed our diet. We have changed our perspective on many things. We both feel closer to God, to each other and our family. The terminal nature of cancer does that.
What does the future hold? Physically, I don't know. I do realize that neither my wife or myself may live as long as Rose did, or Frank will (he is doing well and recovering, as he grieves). But I do know that by God's grace, the eternal salvation of those who accept Jesus Christ is secure. In all of life's heartaches and pain, when we are in Christ we can confidently say and sing the words of that powerful hymn, "Blessed Assurance."
-- Greg Albrecht