The Cardinal

 

 

 It was one year ago today, my buddy, Bill Wade, left us after a battle with pancreatic cancer.

"Battle" is a misnomer.  Nobody can really battle pancreatic cancer and win.

Bill learned he had cancer in late June. The doctor gave him three to six months.  Maybe a year, if he did chemotherapy and if the chemotherapy worked.

He did a month's worth of chemotherapy. It didn't work.  He told me it took him to "a dark place" and Bill went into hospice care. 

He died three months after his diagnosis.

My wife and I visited him three weeks before his death.

Of course, he was frail. The man who once rode his bicycle across Missouri couldn't walk across the room without losing his breath.

He was in pain. It was hard for him to stay seated.

But in typical Bill Wade fashion, he took chicken feed and made chicken salad.

He said he had enough time to get affairs in order and to plan his Celebration of Life service. His Celebration of Life service featured five of the ministers he mentored or worked with, the chief of police of Bowling Green, Kentucky (Bill was a Chaplain for the police force), and his goofy little friend from Georgia.

He also said he had time to say goodbye. A lot of people don't get that chance.

He told Lori and I that he loved us. We knew.

There's an old wives tale about cardinals. If you think about a departed loved one, you will soon see a cardinal. 

In something called "Wiki-How", it explains about cardinals

 

"With their brilliant red wings and hopeful song, cardinals are believed to be spiritual messengers between the physical world and the great beyond. They might be a sign from your loved one to remind you that they’re near, they love you, and they will always be by your side.

• A cardinal can also be your loved one’s way of comforting you through your grief and reminding you that you are not alone.
• Your loved one might send you a cardinal to give you hope and encouragement to keep moving forward.
• A cardinal doesn’t have to land on you to deliver its message from your loved ones. Simply seeing one in your yard is a reminder that they’re with you."

I can't tell you how many times I've gone out to get the mail or work in the yard, and I'll think of one of Bill's jokes or his parody songs (I remembered one today: he made up a song to Willie Nelson's "On The Road Again" called "On The Commode Again") and a cardinal will fly by.

But I don't need a cardinal to remind me of Bill.  I think about him when I see a train (he was a train fanatic) or a bag of M&Ms, or hear the Jimmy Buffett song "Life Is Just A Tire Swing". I am thankful he was a big part of my life and, now, a big part of my memory.