I put down the book I was reading. My husband, Arnie, fresh from having taken a shower, stretched out next to me on our bed. We talked about our day and who we had seen and talked to. I told him what our children, Niki and Tammie and I had done that evening. Then, yawning, Arnie turned to his side.  He said, “I’m tired.” Then he fell instantly asleep.

Placing a bookmark in my book, I set it on the bedside table. The lamp’s light made our pale peach bedroom walls glow a warm, happy color. I glanced over at my sleeping husband and experienced a moment of total appreciation for the love we shared. In that blessed moment of realization, I leaned against my husband’s warm body and breathed in the scent of his freshly showered skin. I very clearly remember thinking, “Remember this! I may not always have this for as long as I’d like.”

After my husband died in 2007, I remembered that moment with especial tenderness and recognized it as a moment of grace. Memories like that one gave me comfort amid the loss.

A moment of grace is a time where a person is totally aware of the preciousness of what is possessed. Sometimes it is a moment of respite between the troubles of the past and whatever future troubles that we might have come. My husband and I had weathered the loss of an infant and had raised another one with a handicap, but that was all behind us. We anticipated growing old together. I had no idea that soon a radical change would take place in my life. I never dreamed that Arnie would die at such a young age as 56.

Now, looking back, I recognize that I have experienced these special moments of grace on several occasions through the years. One of these moments happened when I packed and moved out of my childhood home. I stopped at the door of my bedroom to look back and remembered my growing up years. I was happy to be a young adult, but the future felt both exciting and scary. Another moment of grace in my life happened the moment my first baby was placed in my arms. I looked at her and understood, “This baby needs more care than the average baby, and I’ve never been a mother before!” Sadly, Christy only lived two months.   

I didn’t have a name for these extraordinary moments where I was fully present, aware, and have a strong, clear memory of until my brothers, Billy and Casper, were both diagnosed with Parkinson’s and needed my help. The experience of caregiving for family was a familiar one. After all, I helped Mom as she had aged. Each week I paid her bills, filled pill boxes, did laundry, and helped her bathe. Fortunately, she lived with Billy and Casper, so she had their company while I worked and spent time with my family.

As my brothers started to need help living independently, I once again stepped into my familiar role. The problem was that helping my brothers was very different to helping a parent. There was a whole different dynamic going on. I was their baby sister. I’d never known them as children because they were ten and fifteen years old when I was born.

Towards the end of the time my brothers were able to live independently on the family farm, my brother Billy was hospitalized for confusion after having an infection. When he stabilized and we could take him home, I worried about how I could keep them safe without always being with them.

Sometimes I dreaded my visits to the family farm where they lived, wondering what I’d find and wondering why I had to witness my childhood idols crumbling into this illness.

One night, I dreaded my visit more than usual. In the car on my way there, I kept thinking over and over, “I don’t want to be doing this!”

I found my brothers, who I affectionately called the “boys,” in their cozy, old farmhouse, happy and normal. Casper poured his finest homemade wine for us as I filled pill boxes. Billy talked and made jokes while making supper. The moments of normalcy of that evening are burned into my memory and for that I am grateful.

When I arrived home later that evening, my daughter Tammie called me. She asked me about my evening. I told her, “I experienced a moment of grace tonight. I don’t know how long it is going to last, but for this moment in time, everything is normal and manageable with my brothers.”

My husband, Arnie died 17 years ago on April 2, 2024. Our first child, Christy died 53 Years ago on April 2, 1971.