Update 8-- 97-12-28

Dear Friends,

Gail continues to weaken. Since she is now unable to swallow we place liquid medication in her mouth every two hours and just let it absorb. I've had help the last two nights from friends who are nurses (Marci White and Connie Gower) which has allowed me to get some sleep.

The good news is that Gail is no longer in pain. The bad news is that she is unresponsive. (I think though, sometimes, when I'm talking to her, that her breathing pattern changes some. This may be wishful thinking on my part, but I continue to talk to her about everything just as I always have.)

I don't know how much longer the Lord will leave her with us. Her breathing is ragged, her color pallid, her limbs limp. The months of daily mega-doses of steroids have bloated her sweet body and covered her face with fine baby hair. The bruises on her neck and face (from the fall out of bed she took three weeks ago) are painfully large, but only slightly less distressing than the bruises on her flaccid arms and legs. Though she has not opened those incredible blue eyes in days she has never been more beautiful to me.

Several people encouraged me to tell Gail that it's O.K. for her to go. That I should give her permission. Tell her that we'll be alright. I said I would, thinking to myself, " no problem." I was wrong.

The words just wouldn't come. They wedged sidewise in my throat. I wanted to tell her that I released her. But I couldn't open my mouth, and when I finally did, it filled with salty tears. I told her, "Go home, Gail. You can go now. Go with God."
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As I was typing this update I was called to Gail's side. Her breathing had become much more labored, her color washed with the hue of death. She died holding my hand, with her daughters, Marta and Rachel, her mother and dad, Ludy and Rose Massie, and her brother Lloyd Massie at her side at 11:21 pm Central Time, December 27.

She went home as she had lived, sweetly and gently, with grace and dignity. Her time here seemed all too short. But, then again, my remaining time is but a breath. Eternity will soon, so soon, belong to all of us whom belong to Him.

Randy Fenter

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