Last week’s blog on visitation prompted questions about my most memorable home visits. I have more than a few which I am happy to share with you, changing or abbreviating the names to conceal true identities.
One of my first home visits was to an elderly member of a small church I served in North Carolina. Mr. E. had been recently widowed. His wife of over 50 years had died of a stroke. Mr. E. lived in a small blue mobile home (not a double wide) about half a mile down the road from the church that I served. I stepped inside his trailer at his invitation and we sat side by side on his couch, I asked questions about his health, and found out about his children and his grandchildren. Then I asked him about his deceased wife, and he talked and talked about their years together, the things she loved to do, the love he had for her. I asked him if he had a picture of his wife, since I didn’t see any pictures of her on the wall in his den. His eyes brightened and he said, “Oh, yes!” and he disappeared into his tiny bedroom. He returned with two Polaroid pictures, and placed them in my hand. I was expecting to see candid photos of the two of them at a family event, or maybe pictures taken on his wife’s birthday. Instead, I was looking at two close up photos of a woman in a casket. Certainly, I had been to funerals and with my own eyes, seen people in caskets. But I had never seen a photograph of anyone in a casket. I didn’t know people took photographs of their loved ones in the casket. But Mr. E. did—-he had—-and he handed me the two pictures of his dead wife and sat down beside me, looking with me.
So what does one say when handed a picture of a dead person in a coffin? I couldn’t say the traditional, “she looks so natural,” since this was my first glimpse at Mrs. E. I was looking at a close up of an elderly woman lying back on a satin pillow, who could have been sleeping except for the obvious presence of the coffin lid. “Well,” I said, speaking slowly as my mind raced to say the appropriate words. I didn’t want to appear startled (this was my first visit with Mr. E. in his home, after all), or unnerved, even though I was. All sorts of things were racing through my head, including, “we were never taught have to handle this situation in seminary.” Finally, I focused on her dress, which was blue and looked lovely on her. “What a beautiful dress, “ I finally said, “Did you select it?”
Truly, God gave me those words! That question prompted Mr. E. to tell me that she had worn that dress to their son’s wedding, and that the blue matched her eyes, and the brooch she was wearing was one he had given to her on their 50th anniversary. A startling moment became an opportunity for conversation and connection.
But there’s more. After that first visit to Mr. E’s trailer, I visited him a number of times, getting to know him pretty well. As a result, it was only natural that when he was moved to a nursing home in Georgetown, SC, Will and I drove to visit him. It was en route to seeing Mr. E that we first saw the sign pointing to Pawleys Island. We took a little detour off of Highway 17, fell in love with the beautiful cypress trees hanging over the beach road, and found a real estate company with cottages to rent. We have been going to Pawleys Island, SC ever since! I owe it all to those mobile home visits with Mr. E.