Restless till I rest in Thee

My beloved husband Kenneth McClellan Scagel III passed from this life yesterday, Saturday August 2nd 2025. Grief is a nonsensical enterprise. It grabs hold of you with a vice grip when you are unprepared, and you are always unprepared. I can't share a lot of what I'm feeling because it changes minute by minute.

Many people talk about the voice of God telling them things. I can't say I have ever heard a voice. I will say that for many months now when I heard the two distinct possibilities of how this particular cancer could take Kenny, I was assured in my heart of the way it would end. It was a clear knowing. Early on I feebly prayed it could be avoided. We did so many treatments trying to stop this cancer from spreading, and then so many treatments to try and avoid the traumatic end. Soon my prayer turned to one singular focus. "Oh Lord my God, please let me be with him when it comes. Please let it be me and not one of our children."

God granted my request.

I do not share this story to repulse you but to bear witness to his death. For while it may shock you and sound horrific, it was a good and holy death.

Yesterday afternoon I was working on my computer. At 1:18 pm Kenny texted me and our dearest friend who is a priest with the words "Come here now. It's time. I'm bleeding." I ran through the house to find him in his recliner, and he was bleeding profusely. I screamed at Wyatt to get his brothers in the car and leave the house and go to his grandfather's house. "Go! Now!"

The cancer had penetrated his carotid artery and the blood and life was leaving him.

He was not afraid.

I rushed to him and he was already covered in blood. He reached his hand up to cup my cheek as if to say goodbye. I begged him to stay with me. To hold on. I grabbed the suction tube from him and tried to keep his tracheostomy clear as there was so much blood pouring from so many places. I started to pray loudly. We worked together as we had always done. I commanded him to look in my eyes! I prayed the act of contrition: "Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell, but most of all because they offend thee who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace to give confession, do penance, and amend my life."

I prayed a Hail Mary. More suction. More suction. The machine was not working; we had filled it. He pointed at the other machine. I raced to plug it in. I kept praying loudly. "Our Father, Who art in Heaven..." Our priest friend called. He was on the way. "Hurry! Hurry! He's not gone yet," I texted.

I prayed the St. Michael prayer: "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen." 

He closed his eyes as if to go to sleep. I pleaded with him not to. "Please stay with me!" I put my hands covered in his blood on his heart, and it was silent. Even then I wasn't sure he was gone. The priest came tearing into the room and started anointing him and giving him last rites.

We Scagels are high stakes people. High Drama. We go up to eleven. We do nothing half way. It was as it has always been.

Then followed the succession of my older kids, whom I had told to get here as soon as they could. They were able to see him. Then we started the process of 911, firemen, paramedics, police, and permission obtained from the medical examiner to release his body to the funeral home. My brother brought my younger boys home so that Father and I could tell them the news and give them an opportunity to see their dad one more time. They did, and it was good.

As the men from the funeral home carefully wheeled his body out of our home, Father led us to pray. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art though amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

And so we watched the husband and father we love leave our home. But he was already gone. His suffering had ended. He fought the good fight. Now he may rest.

I will write more when my head is clear. I cannot give solid details of funeral arrangements until things are signed off on by the medical examiner and the funeral home can proceed. I will share them as soon as I can.

I will end this post by naming someone that I never do. Thank you, JW. I would not have made it through yesterday without you. Kenny knew I needed you to make it through this, and by God's grace you were there.