By Nate Abraham Jr.
COMMENTARY
Damn.
Sometimes when you are going through hell, you are painfully reminded that things can get much worse.
Last month, my wife and I were talking to another couple at the doctor’s office. The couple had recently lost a daughter to breast cancer, and the wife lost an eye for to cancer. She was undergoing radiation treatment for eye cancer. The side effects of the radiation treatments were so bad that she had to stop after about 30 treatments. The couple said they had to pray that the treatments she already completed had gotten enough of the cancer to keep it from spreading. The husband had already lost a daughter to cancer and was trying to save his wife.
A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a guy who owns a popular local restaurant. His wife has had multiple strokes and other health issues. She requires 24-hour care, so he can only open the restaurant three days a week. On days that the restaurant is open, he has to hire a home care specialist at $250 a day to care for his wife. While we were talking, the home care specialist had to call EMS to transport her to the hospital, and he couldn’t leave the restaurant. He had to call a daughter who lives out of town to fill in for him.
A couple of weeks ago, a former deacon at my church died. He was a prominent local attorney. His brother, a minister, died the same day. A third brother, who happens to own a big funeral home, made plans for a double funeral for his brothers. He still did a double funeral, but not the one he expected. The following day, the attorney’s wife died. So the funeral home owner buried one brother over the weekend, and another brother and his sisterin-law last Thursday.
Last week, I found out that a close family friend had been shot and killed. His wife was my sister’s best friend. We photographed and videotaped their wedding, hosted events together, celebrated holidays together, and they even traveled with us to Hawaii to help us celebrate my father’s final vacation. His wife has to tell his three daughters and eight-year-old son that their father won’t be coming come.
Lately, it seems as though just about everyone I know is going through some level of hell.
When I was growing up, one of my father’s favorite sayings was “When you are going through hell carrying buckets of gas, keep going.”
I am praying for everybody.
