Redemption at Rochester
Working to Find Peace After My Wife’s Death
October 7, 2014
I pushed through the front door of Mayo Clinic’s Methodist Hospital into the crisp, cool darkness of the early autumn night.
I had no coat but felt no chill.
I had just watched my wife take her final breath an hour before.
And now, after sharing tearful hugs with Kristy’s mom and dad, I trudged forward on the ten-minute walk to the Hilton DoubleTree hotel, where my mom was getting my two-year-old daughter Elizabeth and 4-month-old son Eric ready for bed.
Looking up at the bright full moon, I paused to catch my breath. I had just become something I had never imagined - I was now a single dad.
Blessings From Above
After the funeral, we went to my mom and dad’s farm in Iowa. Mom helped take care of Elizabeth and Eric while I went for walks and worked to put weight back on my bony frame.
I started attending my boyhood church, where Kristy and I had been married only three short years before. I started my Jesus Calling daily devotional and immersed myself in Eben Alexander’s Proof of Heaven, looking for assurance that she was safe.
A lot of people asked me how I was going to balance my family and demanding job while suffering the pain of losing Kristy. They comforted me that I would find another wife soon.
But, as I turned more toward God, I received blessings beyond anything I deserved.
Within a month, God delivered an angel to care for Elizabeth and Eric during my workday, enabling us to move back home to Chicago. This special woman was the mom of the college girl who had done a great job babysitting for us the previous summer when Kristy was sick. Ten years later, she’s still with us today.
With God’s help, I was getting over the main hurdles. But something still gnawed at me.
Lingering Guilt
My mind kept going back to my relationship with Kristy when she was sick.
I had done a lot for Kristy and our family, things I was proud of.
I asked many questions and quickly read multiple books to get into the details of her cancer as soon as the doctors diagnosed her. I advocated for her constantly with Northwestern hospital. It was me who pushed to have Mayo give us an early second opinion and ultimately secure her appointment at Rochester.
I did almost everything for our newborn Eric when I wasn’t at work, feeding him at night, taking him to all of his doctor appointments.
Little Elizabeth leaned on me as well, especially at night before bed which had always been our special time. I took her to the park and pool on weekends so both of us could get a break from the tension in our condo.
But there was one critical area where I had come up short: I had failed to connect deeply with Kristy at times, especially during the last two weeks of her life.
I told myself I had no openings to talk with her at Mayo. A steady stream of doctors and nurses came into her room at all hours, along with her mom and dad being a constant presence.
But was that the real reason? As I searched my soul, I dug for truth.
The Mayo doctors and staff told me to carve out time with Kristy and make sure I said everything I wanted to say.
But it never happened. Kristy’s condition quickly worsened, and the opportunity got away from me.
Was I wrong if I talked to her about dying? Even when the best doctors in the world said that they “typically don’t see tumors this aggressive?” Would that have been the same as quitting, the same as losing faith in God?
A Nudge to Return
In early 2016, I read The Mayo Clinic Guide to Stress-Free Living by Dr. Amit Sood as I binged on books to help me through this time. I checked out the associated website and noticed Dr. Sood offered related workshops at Mayo on resilience several times a year.
I called the contact number and asked when the next class was. Somehow, I knew the answer before the woman could respond. It was October 7 - the second anniversary of Kristy’s death.
A voice told me I had to go.
October 7, 2016
The Second Anniversary
I attended the full-day workshop and met Dr. Sood and some great people in the class. As I walked around the Mayo campus, I found myself avoiding certain buildings and hallways where the memories were still too raw.
I went back to my hotel room and rested for an hour. I needed to summon my strength if I was going to connect with Kristy and be completely present for her.
I planned to sit in the grassy courtyard outside Mayo’s Methodist Hospital from 6:00-7:00 PM, the location and time of Kristy’s final hour of life.
As I approached the courtyard, I walked past the Dutch pancake house where God had comforted me two years ago.
As the clock struck six, I settled onto a bench in the corner of the yard. With overcast skies overhead, I closed my eyes. I visualized being back in Kristy’s hospital room, sitting there with her mom and dad.
I told Kristy that I loved her, that I missed her, that I hoped she was proud of how I was raising Elizabeth and Eric.
I said that I was still in the early stages of my journey with God but wished I knew then what I knew now.
I told her I regretted not talking to her more in the ICU, even when she was unresponsive and not opening her eyes for days at a time.
The Hard Truth
As the sun set around 6:45, the courtyard’s lamp posts turned on.
As I talked more to Kristy, the lamp post lights began to flicker.
My face grew warm, tears streamed down my cheeks.
I told her that I know she was scared, that I should have done more to comfort her, especially near the end. But I didn’t know what to say.
What had she believed was going to happen when she died? She was Lutheran, and I was Methodist. But we had never attended church together outside a Christmas Eve candlelight service.
The truth? I didn’t know what to say because we didn’t know each other’s faith well enough.
No one expected a situation like this. But our surface level understanding of each other’s beliefs left us unprepared as she rapidly approached death.
I said I was sorry we hadn’t talked more about God and our faith before getting married.
I asked her to forgive all the mistakes I made during that traumatic time.
I forgave her as well. I wasn’t happy with some things that happened during those months but doubt I fully understood everything going on. I needed to let it go.
As the hour ended, I said good-bye, prayed to God and then left the bench, walking the same path back to my hotel as I had two years before.
I left Rochester grateful that I had returned, feeling closer to Kristy and more at peace with her passing.
The Lesson
If I’m ever lucky enough to meet another woman as extraordinary as Kristy, I will prioritize that our relationship is built on a firm foundation of faith.
Before we consider marriage, I will insist that we have a deep discussion on our beliefs. And I will come prepared.
Where Do You Need Redemption?
The Bible is full of second chances: Jonah, Moses, David, Peter, Paul, the list goes on.
Mistakes are part of the journey. Where do you need atonement?
Reflect on your past, where things went wrong, and ask for forgiveness.
Ask God for a chance at redemption - He wants to give it to you.
Sharing Midwestern values through the stories of a hard-working single dad, all for the glory of God.