Steve died on a Monday morning at dawn. Although our door was open to
those closest to us we were all beginning to see that the visits were
wearing on Steve and that they should be limited. Clint and Isbelle
were coming into town for a visit on Saturday afternoon. I had called
Steve's parents and they were making plans to come on Sunday.
On Saturday morning I went downstairs and just happened to notice a
man on my front porch. When I opened the door he introduced himself
and said he had been looking around and was hoping to see Steve. I
knew the answer would be 'no' but I went and asked Steve anyway. I
came back and invited the man in and sat on the sofa with him for a few
minutes, giving him an update, showing him pictures of the children.
As he prepared to leave he said that he would like to have prayer with
me before he left. I asked him if we could pray a psalm together or
maybe say the Lord's Prayer? At this the countenance of Steve's old friend
became more stern, maybe even harsh?, and he said, "Look Melanie, i don't know your
background or your story..." I interrupted and said, 'Oh, no,
this is not my desire, this is Steve's.' I told him how when
Steve first found out that he was sick he told Glenda and Eric, our priests, "Look, when my
old friends come back, they are going to want to take the room. And i
do not want you to give it to them. I only want the BCP or Psalms
prayed at my bedside. No extemporaneous prayers."
The old friend did not pray a Psalm with me that day but left.
I ran upstairs and crawled onto Steve's lap. I straddled him and
said, 'oh, Steve, wake up from your morphine stupor.' i told him what
had happened. And Steve said, "Melanie, if my friend would not pray the
psalms with you, he did not want to pray with you."