The following entry was shared at the memorial service of a resident whose life impacted many staff, residents and friends here at Water Street Mission...Eugene is dying today.
I don’t know much about Eugene’s life. I don’t know how long he lived in Florida. Or the name of his girlfriend. I don’t know why he walked with a cane. I do know a little about his last days.
A week ago I stopped and talked to him as he waited for a ride to his radiation treatment. He wore a New England Seafood baseball cap and squinted in the sun. He told me he was feeling good and had determined to wake each morning remembering that this was the day the Lord had made and would rejoice and be glad in it. “I could just as easily have died on a sidewalk,” he said. “I have everything I need at the Mission.”
Several months earlier Eugene’s cancer had started in his lungs. Now it was in his brain. He smiled as he spoke. He spoke—almost gratefully—about having the opportunity to walk in the shoes of his girlfriend who had died of cancer many years earlier.
A few weeks before our conversation in the parking lot, Eugene was with a group of us gathered around a long Amish dinner table. We ate a hearty meal and shared our stories. We were joined by an Italian photographer and his family from New York. Retired missionaries from France. A basketball coach from Arizona. When I introduced myself, my voice cracked when I spoke of the honor of calling Eugene, Allen and Kenneth my friends. The sacredness of the moment had surprised me in the darkening farmhouse. We ended the evening singing “amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me”.
Today Eugene nears eternity. This is a sacred time. Eugene’s life has been redeemed by the Saviour who knew him in life and will greet him in death.
The last words Eugene said to me were, “Thank you for talking to me.”
Thank you for talking to me, Eugene.
-Debbi Miller, Executive Secretary
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