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BREAKING CHAINS
Fifteen years ago his son had taken his own life. Guilt and anger and alcohol drove Philip to the streets of Times Square, where he sold whittled carvings to tourists to survive. He worked out his grief with a penknife and a block of wood. He met his second wife, the love of his life and came back into the world, working in public relations and becoming a world-reknown wood sculptor. His intricate carved chains and delicate wooden roses have won many awards and much acclaim. 15 years later, his only other son fell victim to the same mental illness and depression that had taken his brother, leaving children from ages 11 to 21. The ashes had barely been scattered when Rosalee, devoted wife and the love of his life was diagnosed with late stage pancreatic cancer. She was only given weeks to live. Philip was devastated. Philip was at risk. Rosalee knew it and came to ask me to be “especially kind to Philip.” From the moment they married they had been Phil and Rosalee or Rosalee and Phil. Always together in mind if not in body. Always looking out for each other and living life with a passion, zest and devotion to each other that was a beautiful example of what God intended marriage to be. My husband and I marveled at them. How they were such a single unit, but maintained, respected and nurtured each others’ individual gifts so that when one excelled, the other rejoiced and was enhanced by it. Rosalee had been fiercely protective of Philip. Since he was born profoundly deaf, she was his link and advocate in the hearing world. She knew there would be some adjustment problems when she was gone and worried that the recent suicide of his son and her own impending death would leave him crippled with depression. Her own family did not believe he would be able to take care of himself, let alone Rosalee, and were already pressuring her to arrange to be admitted to a nursing home as her “time” approached. Philip was determined to return as much of the care, love and protection to Rosalee as he could, and to honor her wishes for the end of her life to the letter. He was able to assure her that it would be his honor and privilege to be her caregiver at home if that was her wish, or to support her in any other decision she might make. Rosalee’s family was angry. They did not recognize his strength of character and tried to force her into a nursing home after her first hospitalization. Philip turned to my husband and me for prayer. Through God, he found the strength to keep her at home as she wished. He always asked us to pray with him when we visited his home. Often I would be asked to pray with the home health aides. Sometimes he would show up on our doorstep after his morning quiet time kayaking on the Hudson for a cup of tea and a prayer with our entire family before the kids would leave for school. Sometimes he would ask us to pray with him “online”. Rosalee’s Hospice time was difficult for him, but after she died, he told me that he had no regrets or guilt because, by the Strength of God, we had honored her wishes and given her peace and dignity. She died quietly in her sleep, without any of the usual anguish of a person dying with pancreatic cancer. I referred him to a counselor who is helping him to cope with all of his losses and move on with his life. He is beginning to carve again and I’m helping him to write a book about woodcarving. He comes over for dinner and a prayer almost every Tuesday night, and then joins us at a wind ensemble rehearsal at the local university, where I have been hired to play piccolo for the performances. He has struck up a lovely friendship with the conductor, who misses him when he is not in attendance. Philip sits on the floor beside the bass drum, using it as a resonator to “hear” the music. He says he can “hear” my piccolo and that it “sounds like ants crawling across his scalp.” I didn’t think I was THAT bad…. Thanks to God’s grace and with His continued help, Philip is going to be fine. He spent Christmas with friends while he attended a family wedding in the Florida Keys (he brought my kids back a coconut, which they keep on the back porch as they watch it dry out) and is already planning a kayaking trip to Wales with his granddaughter in the spring. We knitted him a Welsh Fisherman’s sweater to keep him warm and drip-dry on his travels. He has promised to teach my kids to kayak this summer and they’re thrilled! God is SO good….. back to Healing Hands, Healing Hearts
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