And Then She Was Gone. . .

I write today to inform the world of the passing of my spouse and eternal companion, Patsy. Her passing came upon us all suddenly and without much warning. Those who have heard about it have asked, "Was she sick?" The answer is simple: not until in the last twenty-four hours when sepsis filled her body.

I met Patsy Hewlett when she was a student at East High School, one year younger than me. Until she drew her final peaceful breath on Earth, she loved me and her whole family completely, absolutely and wholeheartedly without any reservations. She was an emissary of Jesus Christ, a true angel on Earth. Easily the most spiritual woman I have ever known, she was on intimate terms with the Almighty.

One night recently, we settled down in front of the TV to watch a movie together over dinner. I asked her to say the blessing on the food while I paused the movie. There is a counter that tracks the minutes between the pause button and the play button. When we looked up again, the timer had exceeded 15 minutes. And that was a prayer over food, but so much more! Her individual prayer roll grew longer with each passing month. I used to tease her that she left out the tribe of Reuben. Oh, what prayers we have shared together over the years! Her final act on Earth, I believe, was to die, return to the spirit world and begin answering her own prayers on behalf of all for whom she prayed. Don't be surprised if you discover a new guardian angel who is pleading your cause before the Throne of Divine Grace. Without even knowing it, you may have been on her mind and in her heart. 💗💗 She loved, loved, loved hearts.

How I love this dear companion! Our first date by all accounts should have been recorded as a complete disaster. They ran out of food before we got there, the dance band had taken a break just before we arrived, and there was nothing to do but take up a spot on the side of the dance floor and talk. And oh, did we talk!

Our conversation expanded into the early morning hours on our way back home. It was soul-searching, deeply spiritual, and wide-ranging. I was amazed at the depth of her soul, the strength of her testimony, and the power that spilled forth from her all night long. When quizzed by my mother the next morning, she asked, "What was Patsy wearing?" I stammered out a response, "I think it was a yellow gown." I quickly assured her my memory wasn't bad, but that we were engrossed in a spirit to spirit deep connection I had never encountered. 

One of our younger sons said to me yesterday that he has been lamenting his children would not know or be able to remember Grandma Patsy. I said to him, "Don't worry, I will write the exhaustive seven-volume series about her and I won't leave a single stone unturned." I pray I may live long enough to complete that joyous work for our posterity.

As an example of her thoughtfulness, I took her to the emergency room in the Park City Hospital only last week when she was complaining of intense chest pain. I thought she may be having a heart attack, but it was only pericarditis, an inflammation of her heart lining, and I took home a regimen of anti-inflammatory medicine to treat it. Behind us in line came a middle-aged mother accompanied by her daughter. The mother was crying out in agonizing pain, gently holding her arm which we later discovered had been broken. Without even thinking, Patsy instructed me to let her go first in line ahead of us. And that's what happened. She always thought about someone else ahead of herself. It was instinctive with her, a reflexive act of charity.

We had a family gathering this last Sunday afternoon in our home. I had received permission from our bishop to offer her the sacrament after which we shared testimonies with each other. She was sedated for pain in her hospice bed, but even with her eyes closed, she said "Amen" when each one concluded, and she mouthed the words of the hymns we sang. It was a spiritual, peaceful outpouring of love for the Savior, the gospel and for each other. She loved every minute.

Then later that night she sat up, spoke with her beloved son, Andrew, who is a highly skilled surgeon. He told her he was concerned about her lungs. She said, "Yes, so am I." He asked her if she would like to return to the hospital for further testing to see if he could make her stronger. She said she would, and we packed her as gently as we could into the car.

That was the beginning of the end. They discovered three infectious sites in her body, including pneumonia in her lungs, none of which had been evident in her most recent blood workups. 

"Dad," whispered daughter Melanie early the next morning, "She's gone."

And with that simple notification she had left quickly, quietly and without disturbing anyone or being a burden to anyone - it was on her own terms and her own way.

People ask me how I'm holding up. The answer is also simple - I am being borne up as on the wings of angels all around me. They are my family, friends, and nearly everyone who has heard about her passing. And most of all, I am being sustained by my dearest Patsy who continues to minister to my needs in a higher and holier place.