I’m finally getting around to sharing these moments. They feel like they were months ago, and yet it was only 3 weeks ago.
A friend got Reyna a casting kit while we were at the hospital, and she chose to do a cast of her dad’s hand. It came out so beautiful my friends quickly got me one too. It was not the easiest thing to accomplish but we laughed and gave Karl shit for once again quietly going along with some silly thing we made him do. And I am so glad we did.
We held hands in a strange way for whatever reason. I think it was just more comfortable. The Thursday before I flew out to Texas to get Aria Karl had asked me on a date. Almost 11 years together meant we got into a routine of spending individual time together, but I usually made the plans - so him specifically asking was special. After dinner we walked around outside a bit, holding hands for the first time in a while. We had actually chuckled about how we held hands - noting that it was a two step process. A clasp and then an adjustment placing my pinky between his pointer and middle fingers. I always had to be on his right and his arm in front of mine. Otherwise it didn’t feel right.
It is now such a special moment I will treasure forever, and I have a beautiful casting of our hands together, to remember our last date together.
That night, August 5th, held some beauty in the pain. As an organ donor there is an opportunity to do the hero walk. I’ve also heard it called the honor walk. A chance to honor the priceless gift of life the donor is giving.
This typically occurs when the donor is being transported to the operating room. An announcement is made and all available staff line the hallways to pay respect as the patient - with family and friends following behind - takes that last journey. In this scenario a very limited number of people , typically 2, can be present with their loved one in the OR as they are taken off life support and pass away. Since it’s in an operating room and a sterile environment, it requires scrubbing in, full body protection, gloves, hair and face coverings.
Karl’s status at the time allowed us to have the option of doing this in his room instead, which sounded much more comfortable to me. Reyna did not have a preference, so that’s how we proceeded.
In addition to the hero walk it is also an option for a few loved ones to share something about the donor on a card that is then read to all the doctors and nurses who are assisting in the donation so they know a little bit about the person before the operation starts. It’s a really beautiful opportunity to acknowledge the heart and the soul of the person before them.
Since we chose to move forward in-room, it did not make sense to do the hero walk. It’s a lot of disconnecting devices for battery transport and medical equipment to wheel through the halls only to go back in and do it again shortly after. Instead we did a gathering in and outside his room.
After everyone who was there had an opportunity to have a private moment with Karl, we gathered together - filling the room and hall outside the room.
Anyone who wanted to share something got the chance to do so. And then the memory cards were read. Reyna and Janet, one of Karl’s sisters - on behalf of the family, wrote something to share. There were tears and there was laughter.
David provided one last “Shut the door” (IYKYK) as he left the room.
Below is what I shared. Karl once more got to hear me ramble on, likely noting I filled the front and back of the page.
[Items in brackets were in my original writing, but removed once I realized I was running out of space].
Karl appreciated a simple, quiet life, always seeking to stay in the background providing support. Despite this, his goofy personality shone bright and was loved by all.
When gathered he preferred to be playing with the kids and helping to get things done over socializing. His incredible work ethic was recognized everywhere he went and was so proud to have instilled it in his daughter Reyna.
He put up with me. His patience and ability to forgive and forget showed his genuine heart. He selflessly worked hard to grow individually and together to enrich our relationship. I have always been thankful to have such a trustworthy and honorable man love me.
As a man of few words he showed his love in acts of service and quality time. Helping Reyna with her truck, finding silly things to watch with Aria, and taking over the cooking duties for me.
Most admirable though by far, was his recent openness at allowing God into his heart. He showed me a beautiful vulnerability I had never seen before and a desire to seek His word and connect deeply.
[His silly antics, dad jokes, love of whiskey and old fashioned’s, handyman skills, contentment, “shut the door”s, loud sneezes, and everything that made Karl “Karl” will be so deeply and intensely missed. ]
There are no words that truly encompass the wonderful human he is. And his last gift of life for others in his death shows that. Thank you, Karl for all you did and all of who you are.
Reyna, myself, Janet, Julie and Tom - (a few of Karl’s fourteen siblings - yes, you read that right) sat by his side, listening to worship music awaiting the time when they would disconnect him from the ventilator. Around 10:20 pm they did. At 11:06pm he was welcomed into Heaven.
There are no adequate words for this experience. It just sucks. My only solace is knowing that in the 8 months before he died, he came to know and accept Jesus as his Savior. God opened his heart and his mind, and Karl allowed Him in.
The pain, hurt, anger and regrets stay here - with us. He is free. From all of it.
I believe he has a knowledge or a glimpse of those he left behind. He sees or knows our souls as they were intended to be, free from sin and our most loving, true and authentic self. And he patiently, yet eagerly, awaits our reunion in Heaven.



