Mary Bonner, one of my sisters, is very close to death as I write these words. No, I did not use a euphuism, “near the end of her earthly pilgrimage,” or some such. Mary had no time for calling death something other than what it is. Her hospice bed is in the living room of her house, and her children are providing superb care, along with the hospice nurses. This morning her breathing changed and ability to speak diminished. Her children and grandchildren are with her, in person and in the case of a geographically distant family, by phone. I would not be surprised if she passes before this draft is posted on the web.
Jason, one of her sons, reported on her condition, and added a paragraph, which I quote with his permission:
Mom regularly visited Marj Dolan, a widow from church who was living in a nursing home. Mom would visit her faithfully once a week, I would visit somewhat often as her ”computer tech guy.” Marj was loved by our family and by our church, but in 2019 she had a stroke and quickly moved into hospice care. Mom invited her to spend her last days of life at our house, so she could be cared for by people who loved her. She moved into the guest room. Hospice was in and out, and Mom along with us kids took care of her. Mom showed her love and care in those final days of her life, those days in which you are completely helpless and at the mercy of those around you. The unlooked-for blessing of being around the death of others is much more clear now, but those experiences have helped prepare me and my siblings for the inevitable death we would have in our future.
Mary experienced that unlooked-for blessing herself, and the fruit of her example is evident in the care that her children have been providing her. Mary worked for many years as an oncology nurse. She once remarked that, as the Lord gave her the ability, none of her patients would die alone. She spent hours of personal time with patients as they died. Near the beginning of her nursing career she had cared for our father as he died in a hospital in the Chicago area. When her husband Dave succumbed to lung cancer, she took care of him in their home, and did the same for our mother, when she died at the age of 97.
As familiar as she was with death, Mary never bought into the philosophy that death was simply something natural. She recognizes death for what it is, something unnatural, twisted, that entered the world as the curse upon sin. Although we are not to take death into our own hands, we are under no obligation to prolong the act of dying. She knew that so-called “death with dignity,” as physician assisted suicide euphemistically styled itself, was a lie. There is nothing inherently dignified about bodily functions ceasing. Mary is ready to die, but resisted death. She did not want to die.
From Mary, as well as from my own experience as a pastor and an on-call chaplain at our local hospital, I have observed that even patients with a strong trust in the Lord often seem to resist death. The patient may be ready to depart and be with the Lord; the family, while not wanting to lose their loved one, recognizes that they do not wish them continued suffering; and the medical profession has improved end of life care — all seems to be aligned, and yet the believing patient lingers. I have reminded family members that even though, for those who trust in the Lord, death is a conquered enemy, it is still the last enemy that we face. It is unnatural. It is the curse that entered the world with sin, and there is something in the core of our beings that resists it. At the same time, we have not only the certain hope that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord, but also something even more wonderful — the confidence that in the last day the voice of the Lord will raise us from the dead and that we will be restored as a body-soul unit to be with the Lord in the new heavens and earth.
Mary is dying from a rare sarcoma, with which she was diagnosed 13 years ago. She has gone through two rounds of chemo and several surgeries. A decade ago she was given three years to live. Instead of staying near the cancer hospital she returned home to her family and has seen four of her five children marry. She has been blessed with a dozen grandchildren.
Mary has wrestled with understanding God’s will, not only in trials she has experienced in her life, but also in that of the son whom she adopted when he was four, a child who was permanently brain damaged from abuse in his birth and then foster homes. As she concluded in Trying to Make Sense of Jesse’s Journey, “Look through your child’s eyes to find pleasure in simple things. Find reassurance in the Scriptures that God works all things to his glory and your good, and leave what you don’t know to the God who does.”
Mary’s confidence rests in her faithful Savior. I am reminded of words from one of my favorite theologians, taken from a sermon he preached from John 20 on Christ’s resurrection:
“Let us thank God that, when we enter into the valley of the shadow of death, we have infinitely more than a promise to stay our hearts upon, that ours is the fulfillment of the promise, the fact of the resurrection, the risen Lord himself present with rod and staff beside us.”
Geerhardus Vos, “Rabonni!” in Grace and Glory, p. 68
Her blog, Journey of the Sparrow, has encouraged many. In her final post two months ago, she reflected on the challenge of transitioning from being a caregiver to receiving care. She concluded with a quote from John Stott, who remarked on the helplessness that our Savior experienced as he redeemed us: “So in the person of Christ we learn that dependence does not, cannot, deprive a person of their dignity, of their supreme worth. And if dependence was appropriate for the God of the universe, it is certainly appropriate for us.” The Lord does provide unlooked-for blessings, sometimes where we least expect them.
NOTE: Mary died peacefully with children and grandchildren with her on January 14, 2025.