Fighting for Dear Life (25 page)

I said, ‘‘Yes, Bobby and Suzanne are there right now.''

Sobbing, she asked, ‘‘Will you let Bob know?''

I told her I would and that we'd catch up with them in a moment.

She dabbed her tears with a tissue, turned, and silently made her way inside to grieve with her remaining two children.

Several minutes later Bob shuffled toward me. I could tell that this father, who had crusaded so valiantly for so long, was drained yet remained determined to fight to the finish. Although he was physically weary and emotionally depleted, the fire in his eyes was unmistakable. I wasn't sure, looking at him, if he really comprehended that Terri was gone.

I said, ‘‘Bob, we've lost her. . . . Terri is with God now.''

Bob seemed startled. ‘‘When? Was Bobby with her? Was she alone?''

I was struck by the fact that it mattered very much to him, as a dad, that Terri not die without her family surrounding her. Michael had won what he wanted in terms of a positive press release for him upon Terri's death; but to deny her family the opportunity to be in the room while she was taking her last breath was beyond the pale.

FAREWELL, TERRI

When Terri passed away on March 31, 2005, the security protocol seemed more relaxed—to a degree. But when I reached the door to Terri's room, the police were under instructions, apparently from Michael, not to permit anybody but the immediate family inside. That was odd. I had been on the visitors list for months. Why the abrupt change? The officer, however, informed me that now that Terri had died, I was no longer permitted inside.

Complicating matters was Mary's crying out and Bob's insistence, bordering on screaming at the guards, to allow me to come in to comfort the family. All they wanted was a supportive hug and a few words of encouragement in their hour of great loss. Instead, we were shocked at the news that I had been banned from the room.

Standing just outside the door, I could see Terri's still form. Before her feeding tube was removed, it would have been impossible for me to see her from the doorway. She had been situated out of sight so as to avoid any human contact with the outside world. Once the dehydration/starvation process had begun, however, her bed was repositioned so that the armed guard posted at the door could keep an eye on her at all times—for security reasons.

As I looked over his shoulder at Terri's now lifeless body, my mind drifted back to the first time I'd met her. No longer was she the animated woman whom I had come to know. I couldn't help but notice that this time when Bob went to kiss his daughter, she no longer made her ‘‘lemon face.'' I had so hoped and prayed that we could have prevented this miscarriage of justice even though I knew the case, realistically, had been lost before we were ever asked to get involved.

My heart yearned to reach out to the Schindlers. Watching Bob and Mary wail over their daughter's senseless death was almost too much to bear. As I watched from the doorway as the family continued to weep over their lost loved one, I felt something deep in my soul—I felt a profound loss for our country. As Congressman Mike Pence (R-IN) would say later that day, ‘‘With her death, America lost not only a precious citizen, America lost its innocence.''

He added, ‘‘Although Terri Schiavo's life may be over, the debate over the rights of incapacitated Americans is not over. Congress must right this wrong by ensuring that incapacitated Americans may not be deprived of their inalienable right to life without the assurance of the due process of law that our federal courts were established to protect. This will be Terri Schiavo's legacy.''
2
I couldn't agree more.

Still standing at the door, Mary's sobbing filled the air as she embraced Terri for the last time. Bob Schindler continued to plead that I be permitted to come in to comfort the family. The police stationed around her bed refused to grant his request. In fact, orders had been given by Michael through his lawyer that I was to leave immediately. I said, ‘‘But they're obviously very upset. Can't I go in for a few minutes?'' The police stood their ground and said, ‘‘No.''

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Terri was dead, right?

I asked if I could at least pray for them. Thankfully, we reached a compromise: I could pray as long as I didn't set one foot inside the room. As I prayed from the doorway, my arms literally outstretched over the officer blocking the door, I was not able to offer the comfort that the Schindlers needed in that very sad moment. It was . . . heartbreaking. The instant we finished praying the police officers said, ‘‘We have our orders. Mr. Gibbs, you need to leave—
now
.'' I was escorted out of sight to a side room down the hall. There, I waited for the Schindlers while they, too, were rushed by the security officers to say their final good-byes.

About ten minutes later, the Schindlers walked into the room where I had been waiting for them. We hugged and prayed, and I tried to offer some degree of encouragement. We arranged for a minivan and a motorcycle police escort. The vehicles met us at the rear entrance of the hospice to shuttle Bob and Mary home. After all, the news helicopters were circling overhead trying to capture the first picture of the weeping mother. I'm sure the media frenzy out front would have been devastating.

Right now, this couple needed to be left alone.

They had suffered enough. Media coverage could no longer help Terri.

The family asked if I'd go outside and make the announcement that Terri had died while they headed home. I was honored to help. After ensuring that the transportation was in place, I exited the hospice by the front door to speak with the press. I said, ‘‘This is indeed a sad day for the nation; this is a sad day for the family. Their faith in God remains consistent and strong. They are absolutely convinced that God loves Terri more than they do. They believe that Terri is now ultimately at peace with God himself. They intend to comfort themselves with their faith and with their family at this time.''

Later that afternoon, we worked together on a more complete family statement. My father always told me in any conflict, you should always do three things:

1. take the right stand

2. the right way

3. with the right spirit

I appreciated the fact that the Schindlers were in full agreement with the spirit of that approach. Here, then, is a portion of the Schindler family statement as read by Bobby and Suzanne at four o'clock the day Terri died:

As you are aware, Terri is now with God and she has been released from all earthly burdens. After these recent years of neglect at the hands of those who were supposed to protect and care for her, she is finally at peace with God for eternity. We are speaking on behalf of our entire family this evening as we share some thoughts and messages to the world regarding our sister and the courageous battle that was waged to save her life from starvation and dehydration.

We have a message for the volunteers that helped our family:

Thank you for all that you've done for our family. Thank you to the hundreds of doctors who volunteered to help Terri.

Thank you to the fifty doctors who provided statements under oath to help Terri. Thank you to the lawyers who stood for Terri's life in the courtrooms of our nation. From running our family's Web site, to driving us around, to making meals, to serving in so many ways—thank you to all of the volunteers who have been so kind to our family through all of this.

We have a message for the supporters and people praying
worldwide:

Please continue to pray that God gives grace to our family as we go through this very difficult time. We know that many of you never had the privilege to personally know our wonderful sister, Terri, but we assure you that you can be proud of this remarkable woman who has captured the attention of the world. Following the example of the Lord Jesus, our family abhors any violence or any threats of violence. Threatening words dishonor our faith, our family, and our sister, Terri. We would ask that those who support our family be completely kind in their words and deeds toward others.

We have a message to the media:

We appreciate your taking Terri's case to the nation. Please afford our family privacy to grieve at this time. The patience and graciousness of the on-site media here at hospice has been deeply appreciated by our family.

We have a message to the many government officials who
tried to help Terri:

Thank you for all that you've done. Our family will be forever grateful to all of the outstanding public servants who have tried to save Terri.

We have a message of forgiveness:

Throughout this ordeal, we are reminded of the words of Jesus on the cross: ‘‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.'' Our family seeks forgiveness for anything that we have done in standing for Terri's life that has not demonstrated the love and compassion required of us by our faith.

We have a message to parents worldwide:

Our family would encourage parents to spend time with their children and to cherish each and every moment of each and every day with them as a precious gift from God.

We have a message to Terri from her family:

As a member of our family unable to speak for yourself, you spoke loudly. As a member of our family unable to stand under your own power, you stood with a grace and a dignity that made your family proud. Terri, we love you dearly, but we know that God loves you more than we do. We must accept your untimely death as God's will.

Terri, your life and legacy will continue to live on, as the nation is now awakened to the plight of thousands of voiceless people with disabilities that were previously unnoticed. Your family intends to stand up for the other ‘‘Terris'' around the nation, and we will do all that we can to change the law so that others won't face the same fate that has befallen you.

The street in front of Woodside Hospice is no longer barricaded. The crowds have dispersed and the media tents, trucks, and talking heads are gone. The news helicopters are chasing stories elsewhere, and the police are otherwise engaged. While this Florida neighborhood appears to be ‘‘back to normal,'' a part of me wonders about the long-term impact these events have had on the elementary school students who sat in classes just down the street from the hospice while this drama unfolded.

These youngsters continue to study about a block away from this former epicenter of world events. After all, they'd had a bird's-eye view of this tragedy every time their big yellow school bus rolled past history in the making. What did they learn about America's treatment of the disabled? What life lessons will they carry with them? How were their values shaped by the life-and- death struggle that played itself out adjacent to their playground?

Will they understand that every life is important?

Will they know that life is precious in God's eyes?

Or will they believe that killing within a health care environment is acceptable? Will they see Terri as a brain-injured human being who deserved somebody to step up and stand with her parents and her family in the fight for her life? Or will they view such people with contempt? Is it possible some of these children may themselves live in fear of what might happen to them if, one day, they were to become disabled?

Only time will tell.

I pray that somehow these students—indeed, students all across America—would know in their hearts that disabled people matter. Terri mattered. And every life counts. As President Bush said, we all must work to build a ‘‘culture of life.'' That's especially relevant for the next generation. Why? If our young people fail to embrace the worth of every person, then Rush Limbaugh was prophetic. Hours after Terri's death, Rush announced on his syndicated radio program: Americans should mark March 31, 2005, as ‘‘the day our country hit rock bottom.''
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I'm afraid he's right.

While we cannot turn back the clock to undo what has been done to Terri, we do have an opportunity before us to teach the young people of America to cherish life over death. All life.

Especially the lives of the ‘‘Terris'' of tomorrow.

TIME LINE OF EVENTS: 2004
–
2005

March 20, 2004: Papal Pronouncement—Pope John Paul II, in a worldwide address, issues a declaration that he specifically intends for Terri Schiavo, stating: ‘‘I should like particularly to underline how the administration of water and food, even when provided by artificial means, always represents a natural means of preserving life, not a medical act.

'' April 16, 2004: Deathof a Bill—A powerful Florida state senator blocks passage of an updated and permanent version of Terri's Law (bill 692) by preventing it from reaching the Senate floor. Had this legislation been enacted, the Florida Supreme Court might have viewed the constitutionality of Terri's Law in a more favorable light.

May 6, 2004: Governor's Battle—Pinellas-Pasco County Circuit Court voids Governor Bush's executive order protecting Terri and bars the governor from exercising any further authority regarding Terri. The governor immediately appeals, which continues the stay in state court and keeps Terri fed and hydrated.

September 23, 2004: Terri's Law Unconstitutional—The Florida Supreme Court rules that Terri's Law is unconstitutional.

September 27, 2004: Larry King Live—Bob and Mary Schindler appear live with attorney David Gibbs III on Larry King's CNN program for the entire hour, taking Terri's case to the nation and the world.

December 3, 2004: Governor's Appeal—Governor Bush appeals the Florida Supreme Court decision in the Terri's Law case to the United States Supreme Court.

December 24, 2004: Christmas Eve Visit—After applying for and being granted permission to be added to Terri's visitors list, the Schindlers' attorneys, David Gibbs III and Barbara Weller, visit Terri at Woodside Hospice for the first time.