I knew Don Simon for over four years.  Our relationship started when his son, Enrique, came to the Lord.  And the household (being traditional Catholics) were unsure of how to respond to Enrique's decision.  (See testimony here)

Don Simon came to visit me about this.  He was 78 at the time.  And he wanted to better understand what Enrique was involved with.  (The Catholics here call Protestantism a 'Sect')

I talked about some of my own experience with Christ and how I just couldn't squeeze Him into any religion called Catholic or Protestant; any denomination; or anything else for that matter.  I told him that I was no expert, but that I trusted my Bible to help me follow Jesus effectively; just as much as I had trusted the technical manuals in the Air Force to keep me safe from harm and correctly instruct me in how to rightly perform my duties.

He said he had never really understood the Bible, which to make a long story short, led to my sharing more with him and his wife Gladys over the next month.  In the end, like two innocent children; they both accepted Jesus as their Savior.

An Unexpected Gift

This couple was so happy about this, that in essence, they adopted me.  My father passed away tragically in 1980.  My Mother in 1997.  And in a way, the Lord gifted me with a relationship with Don Simon and Dona Gladys that was entirely unexpected.

The Mendez' were the first to settle on this street when it was still 'the country.'  In a way, they were sort of the patrons of the street; loved by everyone.

I loved watching Don Simon walk down the street arm-in-arm with Dona Gladys.  I loved his smile - The way he'd tip his hat to me and say, Buenos Dias, Mister - The way his poverty never seemed to ever conquer his spirit.

Then in 2007, Don Simon was struck with what was diagnosed as cancer in his prostrate. 

The family mobilized around 'The King.'  (The nickname his granddaughter Cory gave him)  An older daughter flew in from Spain - An operation was planned - And everything was set to go ahead with it.  When, Don Simon changed his mind.

He called me to the house and asked me a question.  "Where do the doctors get their gifts?" he said. 

Well, since the answer was God.  He determined, (in the most child-like of ways) that he could just go straight to the 'Source.'  And he asked me how he was supposed to do that.

I felt uneasy, but the actual biblical answer was that God said, 'He who asks, receives.'  I also explained that the motives behind our asking are important.  And asked, (what felt to me like a very stupid question), saying: "Why do you want God to heal you?" 

He said he needed to take care of Dona Gladys, and his son & daughter, and his two grandchildren and his great grandchild.  (All living in the same little house with him where they receive $150 a month for a microwave tower they have mounted in their yard) 

So I asked Don Simon, "Have you asked God to heal you so that you can do that?  So you can take care of them?"  And when he said he wasn't sure how, I said: "Tell Him just like you're telling me."

We were sitting in two chairs facing each other, at the far end of the yard, away from everybody else in the house.  He took off his hat.  I took off mine.  He bowed his head and said, "I think You want me to take care of my family Father.  I think that's what You want me to do.  But I can't do that if I am sick.  So please fix (heal) me so I can do that.  Thank You for your help."

Don Simon did not have that 'oh-so-urgent' operation.  (Much to the dismay of his family)  His symptoms didn't disappear over-night.  But they did go away, (unexplainably), over the course of about four months.

One morning in early 2009, I went up onto my roof to bring down some hanging clothes.  And when I did; I encountered a strange sight.  Three houses up the street from me, at 80 years old, was Don Simon, in the top of a tree with a machete, whacking away at it from the top down!

I rushed down into the house, grabbed my camera, and headed up the street. 

When I arrived in his yard, taking pictures of him in the tree, he said: "What are you doing?"  My reply was: "The question is: What are YOU doing in the top of that tree?"  And looking over at his 15 year old grandson there on the ground with the guide rope for the falling limbs, I said: "Why is he down here and you up there?"

"You kids don't know anything about doing these things right?" he said.  And with that, he went back to his whacking.

Our Final Testimony to the World

The cancer left for awhile but came back around earlier this year.  It never really seemed to slow Don Simon down however.  (At least not until the last month.)  He just did what he always did, right up until the end - Never complaining.

When it finally did take him down, I think he would have passed on in a week or so; if the doctors and family had stayed out of the process. 

He spent most of his last month at home, where I spent many a night with him.  The cancer had spread all down through one leg and up into his intestines, liver, and one lung.  The family knew this was terminal.  The doctors knew it.  He knew it.  But there was 'no fear' in him. 

There was no money for pain killers, so he was lucid all through this time, even right up unto his last day.  He'd ask me when we were alone in his bedroom in the middle of the night:  "Hijo" (son)  "What do you think it will be like, this dying?"

Somehow, the Lord started a spontaneous conversation about the beaches and the ocean on the island of Guam where I had been stationed in the Air Force.  Don Simon had never seen an ocean.  He had never walked barefoot in the sand or smelled saltwater breezes.

This got us to talking about how un-natural it is for a child of God to fear death.  And how instead, we should be anticipating the things we are about to 'see.'  Things we've never seen.  Unimaginably beautiful things!  Christ Himself, above all!

We'd talk like this as though he were going on a vacation where he would see these beautiful and unimaginable things!  And we talked about how when he got there, he would be preparing a place for Dona Gladys, together with Jesus.  Preparing absolutely beautiful things!  Things like he had never been able to buy her in this world!

We talked like this.  And it distracted him from the pain.  When he felt more pain, we prayed; and the Lord would give him sleep.  Then four days before he passed away, his family insisted he go into the hospital. 

Hospitals are completely natural places for people who are sick and need to heal.  For people who are in the process of dying however, there could be no more un-natural or foreign place!

On the night before his death, with no one else in the room except his oldest son (who had come in from the distant country); Don Simon motioned me to his bedside. 

"Remember that day we prayed in the yard?" he said. 

When I acknowledged that I did, he said: "I didn't know how to pray then.  And you helped me because you know more about these things than me.  Help me now.  I want to pray, but I don't know what to say.  I don't want my family to suffer more.  I don't want God to heal me.  I just want Him to take me to that 'beach.'  How do I pray?"

I felt really emotional and impotent.  I didn't cry.  But I closed my eyes.  And bowing down over his bed, Don Simon patted my head as if to comfort me.  (Which did make me cry)

Daisy was with me.  She bent over and whispered something in my ear.  And I spoke to Don Simon.

"Do you trust me?  Do you think I know a little bit about this spiritual stuff?"

"Yes" he said, still patting my head; my cheek now next to his.

"Well.  When Jesus was on the cross, He said to the Father, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit."  Maybe you should just tell God that.  And hearing me say that; he thanked the Lord for his family; asked Him to take care of them; and repeated Jesus' words.

Don Simon went to sleep later that night after we left and never woke-up again.  He was in a coma until 5pm the next day.  And sometime between his prayer and his last breath, he went home to be with the Lord.

I am crying now as I write this because I can almost feel his hand patting my head.  I can't see the keys on my computer.  I miss my friend's voice.  The look in his eyes.  The immovableness about him.  The rare beauty!

In a world of nearly 7 billion people, my Heavenly Father deemed to gift Don Simon into my life for a season.  He has also taken him away from me for a season.   I know it is only a season; because the same journey awaits me as well. 

Right now, a part of me can hear angel wings making soft sounds like ocean waves patting a soft, warm beach.  An indefinable part of me smells golden breezes.  And a part of me sees a smiling, painless friend motioning to me just like he motioned me near his bed that night, where I can almost hear him saying:

"Oh Michael!  Wait until you see!  Just wait until you see!"

How I miss you my friend.  I will see you on the beach.