The Book of Ruth

  The following is a true story I wrote after the death of my dear friend Ruth. It was published in our local newspaper a short time later.

 If I had the gift of the words of a writer, or the gift of the pen of a poet, or the gift of the song of a psalmist, then I could tell of an event in my life that has ended and will change my life forever. Since I don't have these gifts I will have to tell the story in my own bumbling way.

 I will start the story when the doctors told Ruth that the bottom part of her heart had collapsed, and what was left was enlarging. They also told her that there was nothing else that they could do for her. I called Ruth at the hospital to find out what the doctors had said after they had run tests on her. She said, "Well, it's not good news," then she told me what the doctors had said.

 My own heart just about collapsed when she told me the news.

 Every time we ate out this was all we talked about. Now, Ruth never blamed God. She never said, "Why me?" We always talked about what the Bible said about life after death. We also shared our belief in the Ressurection. Although Ruth didn't want to die, she never expressed any fear of death. She just didn't want to leave her family right now.

 The next to last time we ate out Ruth was very depressed. Although she was always depressed about her illness I had never seen her that depressed before. The last time we ate out was two weeks before her death. It was also her 71st birthday. Ruth seemed much more calm and at peace then. I can't remember what we talked about at that last meeting.

 I gave Ruth an article to read. It was called "The Other Side Of The Door." She read it and smiled as if to say, "What a sweet thought!"

 Ruth was found on the floor of her bedroom near the foot of her bed; her little dog was resting on one of Ruth's sweaters snuggled up next to her. With all the noise the paramedics made trying to get in the house Ruth's little dog never left her side.

 Ruth loved to feed the squirrels. She also loved butterflies

 Ruth left us in the early hours of a Saturday morning, two weeks before Thanksgiving. The squirrels were feeding at the feeder that she had put up for them during the summer. And the butterflies had not yet come.