When a Friend Chooses to Die Alone

Photo by CongerDesign

I could sense a dull ache of loneliness deep inside, a miserable feeling. As a Midwestern Yankee, I had moved south of the Mason–Dixon line and was learning to cope with the shock of a new culture. Was I actually in a foreign country? It felt like it. And no doubt, the stress of a new job made adjusting difficult.

It’s true: Southerners are extremely friendly, and they certainly have a corner on the market when it comes to hospitality.

But really, who calls all soda “Coke”?

Who says, “She’s so fat, bless her heart.” Or, “Isn’t she precious?”

Ugh, too syrupy sweet for this no-nonsense girl from the heartland of America.

I took flight after I graduated from college and this is where God landed me … the Bible Belt of the South. My first day on the ICU floor of a large teaching and trauma hospital was memorable. A nursing assistant walked up to me and said, “Girl, are you prejudiced or what?”

Odd question.

My answer was spontaneous, “I don’t know. I’ve never met one of your kind.”

You can cringe with me! Yes, I really said that. But it was true. I had never met anyone who wasn’t Caucasian. Strangely enough, I was one of the few RNs that this particular nursing assistant actually liked. Maybe it was my bluntness?

My next new encounter was with a man by the name of Eddie. His name badge said Edward. So that’s what I called him. He said only his mother called him Edward. 

Edward was friendly, and he loved to laugh. I didn’t see him often, but when I did he would stop and talk to me as if we were old friends.

One day I realized I hadn’t seen Edward in several weeks. The rumors had been circulating … Edward had AIDS. Many of us didn’t really know what the disease was all about. We weren’t even quite sure how people got AIDS. There was a significant stigma attached to being gay and having AIDS back then. People didn’t understand the disease or the lifestyle.

Those with AIDS were often treated like lepers. AIDS produced fear in people, and fear drove people to think and act in ways that were unkind and lacked compassion. I witnessed this on more than one occasion. 

I was young and naïve. I hadn’t lived much of life yet and had absolutely no experience as a person or a nurse dealing with AIDS or homosexuality, but

I knew what I believed, and I knew what God’s Word said:

“You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important. Love your neighbor as yourself.”

—Matthew 22:37–39

One day I was on my way to the unit I worked on and passed a room with an open door. And there was Edward, sitting up in bed eating breakfast and watching TV. He was thin, almost gaunt. He sure didn’t look like himself. I stopped in the doorway to say hello and to ask him how he was doing. He didn’t answer me at first.

There was this awkward silence, and then he said, “My wife left me. We’ve been together since high school. I kept things from her.”

I had no words other than, “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Share each other’s burdens …” —Galatians 6:2

What he said next surprised me and was painful to hear. “I don’t ever want you to visit me. I don’t ever want you to stop by my room to say hi. Just keep on walking. Do you hear me? I don’t want visitors. I want to be left alone.”

“The human spirit can endure a sick body, but who can bear a crushed spirit?” —Proverbs 18:14

I was stunned, not knowing what to say. I hesitated and then just walked away. In the days following, I walked by his room every day I went to work. Over time, I watched Edward decline. He stopped watching TV. He stopped eating. He withered away physically and withdrew emotionally. He just laid flat in bed with his head turned toward the wall. I felt helpless and heavy-hearted.

“Take tender care of those who are weak.” —1 Thessalonians 5:14

I remember Edward all these years later because his life reminds and challenges me to take God seriously when He says,

“For I was hungry, and you fed me.
I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink.
I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.
I was naked, and you gave me clothing.
I was sick, and you cared for me.
I was in prison, and you visited me.”
—Matthew 25:35-36

“And the King will say,
I will tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!”  (Matthew 25:40).

Photo by Martha Dominguez de Gouveia

One day I walked by Edward’s room and his bed was empty. I knew what that meant. For the last time I stopped in the doorway, reflecting and wondering. I didn’t remember ever seeing anyone visit him. Then, I asked Edward’s nurse about his final moments before he passed away.

She said he died alone.

I still feel a knot in my chest when I think of Edward. God did not create us to endure this life without love, without compassion and connection. Without grace and mercy. Without Him. 

Reaching out to others in our spheres and spaces, especially in these messy seasons, could touch a heart, ease a burden, or make an eternal difference. Would you ask God to help you see someone who needs your kindness? I’m asking God, too, for eyes to see.

-Ally

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