“.. and I will raise you up on the last day”   - By Mary Herboth

Two and a half months ago, my brother was brought to the hospital near death. His daughter had come up from California to visit him in his rustic Mt. Hood cabin when she found him in a frightening state. He was ashen and lethargic. She urged him to go with her to the hospital and he agreed. The doctors discovered that his blood sugar level was over 600. A few more points, they warned, and he would have been in a coma. He went home thinking that he had become a diabetic like our Dad. The days that followed were dreadful. Not because of sugar-restrictions and needles in the finger but because of violent stomach cramps and vomiting that would not stop. We soon found out that this was more than diabetes or a terrible stomach flu. My brother was diagnosed with incurable and aggressive pancreatic cancer. The doctor simply said, “We don’t cure this” and let him know that most people in this condition live for less than three months. He went back to Mom and Dad's with a new bed and an arm full of medical supplies. We all began to pray for wisdom and strength.

Recently, my brother was moved from my parent’s house to a hospice care facility because his condition was getting worse. Two weeks ago they told us that he had 2-3 days to live. At the time that was good news. It meant that the suffering was about to come to an end. But, God had other plans. My brother continues to live and we keep holding on to the knowledge that life is good. However, I must admit that it’s not easy to understand the meaning of suffering when it is happening to someone you love. His body has been reduced to skin and bones, his face is caved in, his tongue and lips are cracked from dehydration, his belly and lower back are swollen from the cancer and he is often in tears from the heartache of dying in front of people he loves. Every day the medical staff increases his medication in an effort to keep up with the pain but most of the time the pain is ahead of the race.

Despite this grim picture there is always hope - there is always grace. For example, God granted me the grace to be with my brother on the day the doctor told him he had only 2-3 days to live. After the doctor left, I told my brother, "I'm going to miss you" and he said, "I'm going to miss you too." I replied, "No you won’t! You're not going to miss me because you will be with Christ and the Blessed Mother." I smiled but he started to cry. He said, "I'm not ready to meet her. I love her so much and I don't want to offend her." He told me that he didn't feel worthy to meet Christ because of some things he had done in his life. I told him that we could take care of that. That he could prepare his soul to meet Christ and the saints by confessing his sins and receiving the Eucharist. On hearing this he cried out "I want that." I held his hand and we talked a little while about God's love and mercy and how wonderful it will be in heaven. The next day a priest came to visit and to administer the sacraments. My heart was light and I kept thinking about Christ’s promise, “If you eat my body and drink my blood you will have life within you and I will raise you up on the last day.” That's what I wanted for my brother and I thanked God for drawing near and for bringing him into a deeper more pure relationship with Him.

Another incredible moment was the day that they moved him to hospice. That first day was very difficult. With a new staff of doctors and nurses it took a while to get everything squared away. He suffered quite a bit that first night because his meds were not adequate and the machine that delivered the meds was not working properly. All night he was in pain, moaning and crying in agony. I cried too - as you can imagine. I thought of Mary during the passion. I wondered how she coped with the suffering. I turned to her for consolation.

Everyone was doing all they could to keep him comfortable but nothing worked for very long. At one point I felt so completely helpless. I didn't know what to do so I started to pray the rosary. It was Wednesday so we meditated on the Glorious Mysteries. After the first two Hail Mary’s, my brother joined me, saying the second half of each prayer. The words of his prayers were slurred and hard to decipher. I just began the next prayer when he stopped. We kept going despite several interruptions. After the rosary I said some other prayers and then I sang, "Come Holy Ghost." My brother smiled and he wept a little. I stopped singing and he said, "Don't stop." So I sang again and then he said sweetly, "I can smell incense." Oh! How wonderful the Lord is! "Did you know," I said, " that the fragrance of incense is a sign of the presence of Christ?" This time the Lord was calling my brother –and me – to the kind of faith that surrenders all things. It is a gift to be truly helpless because at that level of helplessness we have no one to turn to except God Almighty and to be in his presence.

The next morning the doctors were able to find a way to get him comfortable. He actually made some progress and did things that they said he'd never do again - like eat some peach pie! Instead of dying, he had 3-4 "good days" where he was able to have visitors and stroll around the pleasant grounds. He even made it to Mass with the other patients. To receive communion in the context of the Liturgy was another wonderful gift because before this illness my brother had been out of full communion with the Church. He had, however, been growing in his love for God for some time. He often prayed, read spiritual works and taught his friends to say “I love you, God” 100 times a day.

There have been many times during this trial that I have thought that this illness was my brother’s reward for his sincere search for God and the meaning of love. When he became ill, he started the steps toward complete reconciliation. Early on he was annointed with oil and within the first few weeks he recieved general absolution and communion. Then he had the conviciton to confess particular sins and now God provided a whole liturgy - a whole Easter!

Although it breaks my heart to witness the ravages of cancer I can't help but thank God for his goodness and mercy. I'm thankful for the opportunity to share in his passion. Even my brother recognizes that. One time he told me that when he is having the most pain he doesn't ask God to take it away but he tells God "Thank you. I love you." You wouldn't believe all the things he tells the doctors and nurses. When they ask him how he's doing he always tells them about God's love and mercy. He tells them again and again how much he believes in God and everlasting life. They often look at him with amazement. When they see his pain and suffering they can't imagine why he has faith and I can’t imagine him not having it.

Update: Sunday morning, on the feast of Christ the King, Mary's brother passed away. May he rest in God's peace.