"August/2008"
It was August 21st, 2008. We were returning home from a four-week vacation, a first in our forty-one years of married life. The last night as we drove across the darkening desert, a big rust colored moon was beginning to rise when Tad turned to me to say, “This has been the best vacation ever!”
It began as a trip to visit my family in Fort Saint John, British Columbia, Canada. Fort Saint John is a town with a population of approximately 20,000 located on the 47th mile of the famous Alaska Highway in northeastern B.C. All of my immediate side of the family lived in that town. This included my mom and dad, my younger brother and his wife, my “middle” sister and her spouse, a boatload of nephews, a grandnephew and one grandniece. Our youngest sister was getting married for the first time at age forty-one. We have always been fortunate to be a close-knit family, so this was cause for celebration! Tad had recently bought a new, and as he called it, a “petite” red H3 Hummer. Since he was not wild about flying, it was going to be a road trip.
Leaving from Tucson, Arizona on July 28th, we headed up through Reno, Nevada. There we
visited Tad’s only sibling, Nancy. Even though we had been estranged and hadn't seen each other in eight years, we parted feeling that it had been a good visit. We were also able to see our niece, grandnieces as well as meet our new great grandniece. From Reno we continued north, not having any place where we needed to be, except the wedding. We stopped to see whatever interested us. We drove through northern Nevada, Idaho and Montana crossing into Canada at Bonner’s Ferry and spent the night in Cranbrook, BC. We never made reservations or even knew where we would be spending the night. It was a perfect vacation for the two of us. We had been self-employed for twenty-eight years and had not been able to get away together for longer than two weeks at a time. Of course, these kinds of travel plans made for some interesting accommodations. We've all been there… driving late at night in the middle of who-knows-where and getting that last room. We had spent all day winding our way through the beauty of Banff National Park, viewing the exquisite Lake Louise and the rugged mountains of Jasper National Park.
We thought we’d be able to find a room with no problem. Boy, were we wrong! There was some big event going on and there wasn’t an available room anywhere. We ended up driving over 100 miles outside of the park. There was no moon that night and it was so dark we couldn’t tell if we were in a forest, on the side of a cliff or in the mountains. We hadn’t seen a town since leaving Jasper and after driving all day and half the night, we were starting to get desperate. It was around midnight when we made the first pass through Grande Cache, BC. After seeing nothing but “No Vacancy” signs, we went back to the only “Vacancy” sign we had seen in town. We had passed it by thinking surely there would be something better. The price bordered on gouging and I’m not even going to describe the conditions in that room. It was after turning off the light and getting into bed (my socks still on and not because I was cold) that I said to Tad, “You’ve always told me that after I close my eyes all the rooms look the same. When does that happen??” The next morning after checking out, Tad came back with a refund.
The next day we arrived in Fort Saint John BC. As Montana is called “Big Sky Country”, Northeastern B.C. is called “Wide Sky Country”. The natural landscape of rolling hills is broken up by valleys and ravines dotted with aspen and birch trees. Although the area’s economy is based on natural gas and oil production, grain farming is a primary commodity as well. In July when the Canola fields are ready for harvest, they are such a brilliant yellow it almost hurts your eyes. Of the multiple places in British Columbia and Alberta where our dad had moved our mom, Fort St. John has always been my favorite. Most of the family had visited us in Tucson and over the years the girls and I had made trips to Fort St. John, but because of work it had been a long time since Tad had been there.
Before we left Arizona, my brother Steve and his wife Cindy told us that they had planned a riverboat trip for the four of us. We were to go up the Murray River to the popular Kinuseo Falls. The day for the trip dawned gray and cloudy. When you live in that country, the rule is that you don’t wait for the weather to change, you just go. Arriving at the boat landing, the four of us plus the driver, climbed aboard and off we went! Powered by an inboard jet motor, the flat-bottomed riverboat zipped along on a cushion of air over the surface of the water. Speeding upriver we swerved to avoid logs, big rocks, river debris and skimmed over smaller rocks, sand and gravel bars. It was so-o-o much fun!!!
Thanks to the boat’s air cushion, we disembarked onto the shoreline, high and dry. Kinuseo Falls was both enormous and beautiful. It was a little disappointing that it was still cloudy and that people were there ahead of us. We had hoped to have the place all to ourselves. We decided to have lunch and wait it out. This proved to be a good plan, because as soon as we finished eating, the sun came out and ALL the people left. It was great! Each with their own camera, we were taking pictures, hopping around on the river rocks and enjoying the falls.
On the way back to town we stopped at Alwin Holland Park, one of our favorite spots along the mighty Peace River. We took the path down the embankment to the grey shale rock at the river’s edge. There has always been something spiritual about this river... the sound of rushing water spilling over the rocks, the mesmerizing movement of its strong currents and the ever changing colors of light and shadow, all in concert… an expression of the incredible beauty of Creation. There we were…enjoying this priceless time together. A perfect end to an amazing day!
It seemed as if we had brought Tucson’s heat with us. Temperatures were hovering around the high 90’s Fahrenheit. In “Canadian” that would be 35 degrees Celsius. Either way, it was really hot! Normally it doesn’t stay that hot for long so places are not set up for it. I have lived in the desert many years but that doesn’t mean I can tolerate the heat. As a matter of fact, the opposite is true and especially so when I’m in Canada expecting to be out of the heat!
A huge party tent in the groom’s brother’s backyard was central for the pre-wedding festivities. It may have been sweltering hot but that didn’t stop the good times and fabulous food. The wedding rehearsal and ceremony were held in a real log church situated on a hill with Charlie Lake in the distance. It was a beautiful setting, even though there was no air conditioning. There was just an air exchanger that exchanged the hot air inside for the hot air outside. In spite of this, all was forgotten when my younger sister Kathy and I as co-matrons of honor, watched as Dad and Mom came down the aisle arm-in-arm with our youngest sister Karolyn, the beautiful bride. There were smiles and a few tears all around as they were met at the altar by Darren, the loving and welcoming groom. It was beautiful!
The reception was held at an air-conditioned hotel so there was lots of dancing, LOTS OF DANCING! And so much fun! During the night a welcome low front blew through lowering the temperature about 40 degrees. The next day at the gift opening in the party tent, it was funny to note all the Canadians sitting around in their coats. I was the only one not wearing a jacket. “Don’t you have a coat?” they asked. We have one in the truck you can borrow.” “No thanks, I’m just fine…”
We had a great time together making wonderful and precious memories, but all too soon it was time to head back home. We had always wanted to travel the Pacific Coast Highway, but on previous trips there had never been enough time. After securing “permission” from our daughter Erin who was running the family custom frame shop in Tucson, we headed south. Angling down through central Washington, we stopped in Yakima for an impromptu reunion with my Uncle Art and cousins Marilynne, David, Daryl and their families. It was a grand time!
The next day we crossed over the Columbia River at Astoria, Oregon.
Keeping with our previous no-travel plans, we headed down Oregon’s coastal Highway 101. Tad was a photographer so we made several stops taking pictures of spectacular ocean views, misty rocky shorelines, lighthouses, picturesque towns and villages.
Each turn seemed to bring another “photo opportunity”. Traveling south while riding shotgun in a Hummer, even a “petite” one and looking out over the edge of those high outside curves was “interesting.” I told my dad later, “Most highways have white paint at the edge of the pavement and then some dirt, but in places there was nothing but air! If you went over the side, you would get wet on the first bounce!”
We went through towns with names we had only heard about: Cannon Beach, Tillamook, Neskowin, Depoe Bay, Newport, Coos Bay… We were having such a great time following our noses that we had to keep calling Erin for travel extensions. Northern California’s Highway 101 or State Route 1 provided more incredible ocean vistas, scenic beaches, Coastal Redwoods, migrating gray whales, castles, Franciscan missions, the Golden Gate Bridge shrouded in fog, Big Sur country and cities of San Francisco, Monterey, Santa Barbara, and Los Angeles.
Arriving in San Diego, we turned onto Interstate 8 and headed southeast across the desert to Tucson and home. August 21, 2008 was the end of four wonderful weeks together and the best vacation ever!
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Sunday afternoon, August 31, 2008 had begun to unfold just like all the other Sundays. Opening the doors at noon, I was at the family custom frame shop with our part-time picture framer. Our oldest daughter Shelby was at work across the street at a CVS Pharmacy. Erin was driving home on the interstate after visiting friends in Phoenix. Tad, at our home in Oro Valley, was working on photographs from our trip. As was his custom, he had called a few times to check in, but this time when he called, it was different. “I need you to come home. It feels like something slipped in my back and it's beginning to really hurt.” He had been saying that his back had been bothering him, but we just put 6,100 miles on the Hummer so this was understandable. However, knowing Tad was not a wimp, I headed for home immediately.
By the time I got there he was in real pain, so I called for an ambulance. They arrived and took him to the new hospital not far from the house. I called the girls to let them know what was happening. I was not too alarmed, thinking it might be just a kidney stone. By the time we arrived at the emergency room, Tad was in extreme pain. They gave him an x-ray, but before any pain medication could be administered, he had to drink the contrast liquid required for an MRI. He chugged it and off they went in a rush. The admitting doctor came in to ask me some questions: “Was Tad anemic?” “No.” “Did he have blood in his stool?” “Not that I know.” He left the room saying, “I have to find out where all this blood is coming from.” Daughter Shelby, who had joined me in the exam room, was now outside the ER talking on the cell phone with her sister. It was then that they brought Tad down from the MRI and the room exploded with purposed activity. Suddenly, the ER doctor was back in the room telling me there was a Dr. Mendoza on the phone. He was a vascular surgeon who needed to speak with me. After that he said something vague about this being a very grave situation. Not knowing what to expect, I picked up the phone. After asking me some questions, Dr. Mendoza went on to say something about meeting us at another hospital because this hospital did not have the facilities needed for the type of surgery Tad required. He felt it was worth the risk to transport him to the Northwest Hospital.
I’ll admit I can't remember exactly what he had said up to this point, but his next words were permanently burned into my memory: ‘And prepare yourself, he very likely will not make it.’ There was no time to digest what he had just told me. I ran down the hall to tell Shelby what had just happened and for her and Erin to meet us at Northwest Hospital. Running back, I barely made it into the front seat of the ambulance.
On our way, Tad, in the back of the ambulance now feeling no pain, was joking with this tiny little EMT. She was just what he needed - all confidence and attitude. They were talking about catheters, cutting off clothes and who knows what all. Sitting in the front seat, I became oblivious to the lights and sirens as I looked out the front windshield. Spread before us was a most spectacular Arizona sunset, horizon to horizon. As sunsets were a particular favorite of Tad’s to photograph, I called to the back to tell him what he was missing and turned my attention back to the beauty before me. As I was drinking it in, a sense of calm came over me and I began to pray. It had been a very long time since I had prayed. God and I had always been on speaking terms, but I definitely was not committed. Not committed and so disillusioned that even after growing up in the church and graduating from a Christian college I hadn’t attended church for literally 40 years. But there I was, like many of us in times of great trouble… praying. It’s been afterwards that I’ve thought about this because surprisingly, I was not praying specifically that Tad would be healed, but that there would be no regrets. It’s in those times that things are said or done that can last a lifetime. ‘Please God, no regrets’.
The girls met us at the hospital emergency entrance in time to see the EMTs with their dad already on their way inside. I got out of the ambulance and had raced around to the back of the vehicle but as I reached for my husband, they said emphatically “No time!” Even so, Tad had just enough time to turn his head to give me a big wink. Falling in line like ducklings behind the gurney, we rushed through the emergency room. Reaching the surgery doors, we stopped and watched as the doors opened and then closed behind them.
The three of us had been in the waiting room for about four hours when Dr. Mendoza came out to explain that Tad had suffered a Triple “A” or a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm. Amazingly he had survived; ninety-five percent of people die within minutes. And again amazingly, he had survived the surgery to repair and clean up from the massive damage. He had been opened up, as they say from stem to stern. He was still not closed and at this point everything was being held together by a kind of mesh material. Dr. Mendoza explained that Tad was not out of the woods, but the situation was hopeful. We went into the ICU to be with him. He was heavily sedated and hooked up to every tube imaginable. I don't remember the amount of blood used, but at one point I remember hearing 22 units…
It was when we were coming out of Tad’s room that miraculously, my cell phone rang. It was my brother, Steve. I had been desperately trying to get in touch with him since all this had begun. Very strong in his faith, my beloved brother was who I needed at this time but hadn’t been able to reach him. I feared he and Cindy were at their place at Moberly Lake B.C. where there was no cell or phone service. I can't remember exactly, but at one point I handed this over to Shelby. She called everyone in the Fort St. John family, trying to raise someone who could tell her of Steve's whereabouts. Finally, she got through to my sister Karolyn (the new bride), who confirmed Steve and Cindy were at the lake. When Shelby reported back to me with that news, I admit I cried. Knowing their property was at least an hour and a half outside of Fort St. John and through what I considered to be some very isolated country, I thought that there was no way. But, unknown to me Shelby had called Karolyn back and when she asked what I had said about Steve being at the lake, Shelby replied, “She cried.” “I'm on my way,” Karolyn said. Driving her truck alone and at night (not the safest thing to be doing) she sped through the remote bush country on a highway that veered off the famed Alaska Highway. She had only been at the lake one time and now she was trying to think of how to get to where she needed to go in the pitch-black darkness. Arriving late, she turned off the highway onto a dirt road. She drove along in the dark with only one headlight which eventually lit up a familiar landmark. It was the pull out she remembered that was on the opposite side of the road from their property. A gap in the bushes marked the very narrow, steep dirt road that led down to lakeside property. Steve and Cindy were surprised to find Karolyn banging on their travel trailer door at 11:00 pm. Within 15 minutes after hearing the news, they packed everything, closed up the trailer and were on their way back to Fort St. John and phone service. Hunched down in the hallway around the corner from Tad's room with my cell phone crammed to my ear, I can't even begin to say how wonderful it was to hear the sound of my brother’s voice and his comforting words of prayer.
I guess it’s important to note at this point that even though Tad and I had been married for many years, we had never made a will or even arrangements for “those” kind of things. It had been a little over a year previously that we had finally decided it was time to get this done. Among all those documents was a “Do Not Resuscitate Order”. Tad had always been implicit; he did not want to linger! He wanted to go ‘Face first in the Roquefort’. Now, this is a reference to the time we were out to dinner when a man and his wife were seated at a table adjacent to ours. You know the type of seating arrangement where you are having dinner with folks you don’t know sitting inches away from you. We were getting ready to leave when I realized Tad was looking in the direction of the man sitting next to me on the bench seat. As I turned to see where he was looking, I saw the man's face fall straight down into his salad and bounce off his plate. Falling sideways, his head landed on the seat right next to me! Tad jumped up shouting for someone to call 911, but the man looked to be already dead. Tad said later that when he looked over at the man, they had locked eyes and then it was ‘Face first in the Roquefort’. This was followed by a comment in typical Tad fashion: “Just think, my face was the last thing that man saw on earth.”
And so we waited…September 3, 2008 had been preceded by two days of Tad making baby steps towards getting out of the woods. After the surgery and being hooked up to all those tubes he had not been unconscious, but heavily sedated. I hadn’t been able to communicate with him since arriving at the hospital and him giving me that big wink in parking lot. But there was a brief moment as I was standing next to his bed that there was some kind of a lapse in his medication and he struggled to revive himself. It seemed as though he wanted to tell me something, but the medication took over again and that moment was gone.
When we had heard that on Wednesday Dr. Mendoza's associate was going to do an open evaluation and possibly close him up, it sounded hopeful. So, we waited in the hall to hear the outcome. But when it came, it wasn't news we wanted to hear. As it was explained to us; the body has three functions represented by the heart, lungs and kidneys. His lungs were compromised and his kidneys were failing, but there was nothing wrong with his heart and that's what was holding it all together. She began discussing dialysis and some other stuff, but I didn’t hear past the dialysis. Oh no, he would never live with that! We were crushed! It was with heavy hearts that while Shelby went outside to phone directions to the hospital for our friends coming in from Phoenix, Erin and I returned to Tad's room.
For what happened next, I really don’t have the earthly words to explain. As we sat down on the chairs beside his bed, there was something like a rush in my head and what can only be described as a voice that said, “If you have anything to tell him, you tell him now!” The compulsion was overwhelming and the voice so insistent, I stood up and stepped next to Tad’s bed. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I stroked his forehead as he always liked and told him how much we loved him. Then these words: The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadth me beside the still waters… I’m not sure how much of the 23rd Psalm I said or even if the following were my exact words, but when I told him we would be all right and that he could go, immediately alarms began to blare. I turned toward the sounds to see the monitor that was recording his blood pressure crashing... Down, down, down, it dropped like a rock! His ICU nurse came rushing in, “You have to go! You have to go!” But he was already gone…
"Reflections of These Golden Threads"
As told by Patti McBride
The “Tad” chapter up to this point has been pretty much a narrative; told as it unfolded. It’s hard for us to understand why God does some things, but there is such comfort in knowing that His timing is perfect.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: A time to be born and a time to die… -Ecclesiastes 3:1-2.
Sometimes when looking back, reflecting on life’s experiences such as these, you can see connections like golden threads of God’s time and purpose in your life. In my mind, I have often gone back to when we were in the ambulance speeding towards the second hospital. After almost forty years of minimizing my contact with God, it was not surprising that I was praying, but that I was praying for no regrets. Looking back, I’ve come to realize my biggest regret would have been that I had never said or done anything to direct Tad towards eternal life. But then, how could I? Spiritually I wasn’t anywhere near that place in my own life. It seemed Tad had questions and knew I didn’t have the answers. But he knew who did…my brother Steve. Because the events surrounding Tad’s passing happened so fast and so soon after we returned from our vacation, it wasn’t until after the memorial that Steve was able to tell me about some talks the two of them had while we were in Canada for the wedding. I was blown away when Steve told me, “Tad was searching”. I had no idea! Oh, occasionally over the years he would say, “You know Patti, if you wanted to go to church, I’d go with you.” “No thank you,” would be my firm reply. But while the two of them were together, Tad, who had known Steve since he was a teenager, asked him what had changed his life.
In the seventies Tad and I were married with two little girls living in Arizona while all the rest of the family were in Fort Saint John. Due to the great distances and lack of instant communications available at that time, we were unaware of the changing circumstances that had developed in Steve’s life over the years. As we talked about what had happened back then, he recalled the different influences that had worked together, causing him to consider the direction his life was taking…
Steve had always been a good ball player and enjoyed playing baseball in the area’s league competitions. Central to this activity was the customary after game celebrations at the pub. Gradually, all the time away from the family began to threaten the stability of his marriage. Cindy was continually at home alone with their two rambunctious boys under the age of three. She had been struggling, praying that Steve would see how this was affecting their relationship and their life together. Steve arrived home after one of those celebrations and was met by our dad who was waiting in the driveway of their apartment. From the third story window Cindy watched as our usually easy-going father was stabbing his finger in Steve’s chest for emphasis while delivering a very pointed explanation that if he were to continue down this road, he would lose his family.
Another one of those before mentioned influences Steve talked about was Del, his father-in-law. An out-spoken, self-styled evangelist, Del had been questioning Steve about the direction of his spiritual life so much that it had become a source of great irritation. At Steve’s request Cindy brought this to her dad’s attention, so he softened his approach. Apologizing for upsetting him, he told Steve why he was so compelled to talk to him. Del explained that the choices Steve made not only affected himself, but also the lives of his daughter and grandchildren. Then he posed this question: “What if I drove past your house and saw that it was on fire, but decided it was going to burn down anyway, so I drove past and didn’t warn you? “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” “It’s what I would be doing if I never warned you about your spiritual condition,” Del said. It was afterwards that Steve became more receptive to Del’s spiritual discussions. Challenged through scripture, Steve began to realize how far away from God he had drifted. However, it was when his young son Scotty innocently asked him, “Dad, do you have to drink to have fun?” that he was fully convicted. Steve prayed, asking the Lord for His help and forgiveness. By falling on God’s grace and mercy, Steve’s life was changed forever.
There were many conversations between Steve and Tad as the two of them were out and about in the bush of northern Canada’s Peace River country. Steve, never known for being shy about witnessing for his Lord, freely gave the reason for the hope, peace and love he had in his heart. Continuing his answer to Tad’s question, Steve gave him this verse filling in his name: ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him, (Tad McBride) should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ -John 3:16.
Of course I can’t be sure, but I believe I know what happened in the closing minutes of Tad’s life. Remember when I wrote that he was sedated, not unconscious? While the girls and I were waiting outside in the hall, the doctor and her assistants were in Tad’s room performing their evaluation. There had to have been conversation around him regarding his condition: compromised lungs; failing kidneys; dialysis etc. and I know he heard every word. I can imagine he wanted me back in that room immediately. It was probably: “Hurry up, Patti! Get back in here! “I also can believe that by the time Erin and I came into the room and sat down, he had already made his decision to go. He was waiting just long enough for me to give him permission. No regrets… golden threads of answered prayers.
These golden threads weave throughout the lives of those who come within your circle and with whom you have constant contact; family; friends; neighbors; fellow believers; business acquaintances or people that are briefly in and then out of your life. It seems that God seldom gives you a view of how these threads all tie together, but sometimes it’s crystal clear. While these threads are continuing to flow from my growth of knowing Him, I am amazed to see how He is at work in my life.
* Most of the photographs were taken with my little digital camera with the exception of “Singing at Abbyfield” (Kathy Thorlakson), “Kinuseo Falls” (Cindy Vincent) and “The Wedding” (Chance Howkins)
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