On Friday, my last Uncle passed away. He was 89 years old. Of the eight children my Grandmother birthed, only one remains. My Aunt Marie is now 95 years old and the only surviving sibling. The following is the story of my Uncle Edward Sympson and why I take comfort in the fact that these bodies are just rentals from God.
Edward Sympson was born on January 18(today), 1922. Born at home, he was the third of eight children. My Grandmother worked at a meat packing plant during the day and washed people’s laundry at night. In those days it was easier for a woman to get work than a man. My aunt was left in charge of the kids a lot of the time, because grandma wasn’t home. One day while playing outside, Eddie ran into the street. A car hit him, throwing him into the curb head first. Back then there were no sophisticated pieces of equipment and or detailed tests to detect head injuries, so the doctor came to the house, looked him over and said he seemed fine but to keep an eye on him. Well, as time passed and he grew older, it became evident that he had sustained a closed head injury that left him with permanent brain damage. I think this happened when he was about age 10.
As he got older his behavior became more “odd”. He had trouble communicating, learning and occasional seizures. He was able to hold a job at a gas station for a brief period as a teen before he became harder to manage. He would act out, throw “fits” and become somewhat violent. As a result, my grandmother and aunt were no longer able to care for him at home and he was institutionalized at around age 20. This would have been around 1932.
First, he was placed in a state run “mental” facility. Back then they grouped all people with seizures, issues communicating, trouble learning, mental deficiencies etc. into one hospital. I remember visiting him there when I was seven and the memories of that visit still haunt me. Patients were left in hallways screaming and banging their heads, having complete conversations with no one or just slumped in their chairs alone at a window. Electric shock therapy was a common occurrence and one my uncle received regularly. The hospital staff (doctors if you want to call them that) felt that the shock might somehow correct or reverse the damage that had been done or maybe they just wanted to “quiet” their patients. Either way, it was inhumane and horrible.
I don’t remember how long he was a resident there, but he was eventually moved to a nursing home near the farm where my Grandmother and Uncle Don lived. He didn’t seem to improve, but at least he didn’t have to endure the shock therapy and whatever else he might have been subjected to. He was allowed to go on weekend visits to grandma’s house and we got to see him there. He never spoke much but seemed to understand what we said to him. He couldn’t really communicate verbally but could kind of show you what he needed. He loved chewing tobacco, Red Man to be exact, and there was always a spittoon nearby. He could hit that thing from 4 feet. It was gross but it made him happy. Mostly I just remember him ringing his hands and rocking himself. He was trapped inside this damaged body and I know there was much he had to say.
In 1998, he was transferred to the facility that would be his home for the remainder of his life. It was called North Point. It was a clean place with a wonderful, caring staff. He would ride his wheelchair through the halls, waving at all the residents. He always had a smile even without any teeth. He loved to give hugs and even though he could say the words “I love you” it was evident that he had much affection for his nurses. On the Friday before his decline, he was actually able to say the words I love you to his nurse and she understood him. It was as clear as if I’d said it. I believe it was God’s gift to him and his caregivers. The only thank you he would be able give them. Three days later, on January 13 2012, my uncle passed away.
For nearly 70 years, he was trapped inside a body that wouldn’t work. As a believer in God and Jesus Christ, I consider our human bodies to be “rentals”. It is merely the vehicle with which we maneuver this planet and life and whatever ailments or difficulties we encounter here, we are released from in death. Given a new one in heaven. It is what I have taken comfort in over the years with the deaths of my own parents and now my Uncle Eddie. I know in my heart and in my faith, that they are all with Jesus in heaven. And for the first time in 69 years, he can say “I LOVE YOU!
