The Vow: 'Til Death Do Us Part

Contents

Foreword

1

Sharon & John

2

Do you promise to love and comfort her?

3

To honor her and keep her in sickness and in health?

4

In prosperity and adversity?

5

Forsaking all others, be faithful?

6

So long as you both shall live?

Epilogue

Postscript

This book is dedicated to my brother Joseph Anthony Faircloth and my sister

Debora Lynn Faircloth. Their selfless love for my wife Sharon and I truly defines

the Christian spirit.

I would like to thank Horizon Christian Fellowship of San Diego, pastor

Mike MacIntosh, pastor Chuck Allers, and all of my church family who stood in

the gap for my family during our time of need.

I would also like to thank the nursing staff of the Bone Marrow Transplant

Unit, Intensive Care Unit, and Wing 5 of City of Hope National Cancer Center

in Duarte, CA for their love and devotion to Sharon. In particular I would like to

personally thank Elsye Mulan for her selfless dedication and love she showed to

Sharon.

Lastly, I want to thank Sharon for her honest and powerfully pure love for me.

She breathed a messiah wind into my life, and saved me, changing me forever.

Sharon, you were a true godly wife, and the most Christ-like person I have ever

met.

Foreword

There is so much about God, and how He works in our lives, that I don’t understand. Some of what He does for us is easy to grasp—the brilliant colors of a sunset, or the gentle consistent beat of a heart, are two examples.

However, a lot of what does happen is a mystery. So many of the events in my life, and in the lives of those around me, are a mystery. In response to the mystery, we so often ask, Why did this happen? or What was the reason for this to happen now? Too often the events of our lives, and the purposes of God, lie outside of our ability to either understand them or make sense of them. It can be frustrating.

I think most of us feel that way about Sharon’s life. The abrupt end of her life here on earth made no logical sense. Her disease was some deceitful intruder who invaded and fractured life, taking away so much health, so much charisma, and so many future days, months and years. I’ll always remember the helpless feeling in the hospital the moments after she died. It was as if all present looked at each other and said, What do we do now?

There were no answers. I’ll bet this is a common tale for everyone who suffers the unexpected loss of life. Yet in this taking of earthly life, I found God’s presence. Maybe—certainly—not His purpose, but the silent thread He weaves so gently through pain, loss and heartache.

I found it in the loving actions and soft prayers of so many around the Fair-cloth family, who silently supported Sharon, John and the girls in so many practical ways.

I found it in John, finding the strength to stay faithful to his post—keeping a long, steady, quiet watch over his wife, his children and himself.

I found it in the testimony of Sharon’s words and actions throughout this journey. Through the entire 13 months, no matter how hazy, painful or senseless each day became, she stayed true to her faith in Jesus. Though her life became a whisper as the cancer bulged, the proof of her faith, what the Bible calls the evidence of things not seen, shouted loud and clear.

That’s the way it is with God—He’s always there, but He reveals Himself, and His love, in ways that force us to listen for the whisper in the waves. The waves will always be there, and will often hit us in ways we least expect, and rarely

understand. But Jesus is always there too, protecting and providing in ways that require patience in things not seen—Him.

The constant search for meaning Is an endless turn of stone Beneath the ground beneath your feet Through travels far from home.

The constant search for meaning When calm and left alone Is when Eternal Truth pops up And lets Himself be known.

Dr. Charles L. Allers

Pastor of Horizon Christian Fellowship North Clairemont

1

Sharon & John

Row upon row of white marble. The ocean just over the rise to my right. A crisp air surrounds me and fog is moving in. As I stand here I recall how my life’s road has led me here. Rows of American heroes lie all around me, and yet I am here for another. She rests here, in this place of honor among thousands of men and women who served in the military. Her marker is wet with dew. I read her name, Sharon Elizabeth 1960 to 2003, and the epitaph Face To Face With Jesus. Yes, she is face to face with Jesus now. How did it happen that I am now pouring my heart out to a piece of white marble at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery? My mind goes back to the moment we met, but it doesn’t start there either. It begins in a far away land, a long time ago…

The year was 1963; the place was the poor district of Seoul, Korea. Jung Sook was about 4 years old. She would sit with grandfather and wait until he finished his meal of rice and sweet potatoes. The Lee family was very poor, barely making it. Jung Sook’s next memory is seeing her grandfather dead, lifeless, not eating his dinner. The house had a dirt floor kitchen with a coal burning stove, sacks of rice and sweet potatoes nearby. The other room had a wood floor where the whole family slept at night on straw mats. Jung Sook had a sister, still a baby around a year old, named Kyung Sook. Her older brother, away at school, never was home.

Jung Sook’s next memory is of getting ready to go into the town. Kyung Sook was strapped to her back papoose style and her mother was telling her to stay home. But Jung Sook knew she must follow her mother. Mother headed to the train level of the street, the lowest of levels. She stopped and told Jung Sook to go home. But she did not go home; she followed, knowing something was wrong. Her mother stepped onto the train, turned and looked back, tears in her eyes, and looked right at Jung Sook. Jung Sook knew this was it, the end of her life with Mother. Mother turned and went into the train and Jung Sook would never see her again. Jung Sook turned and went home crying.

Days had passed since Mother left. Father took the two girls to the train level and Jung Sook became anxious. Her fears were justified when father went up the stone stairs to the upper street level. Jung Sook tried to climb after him, but with her sister on her back the best she could do was crawl on her knees. The stone stairs cut her knees. She would carry the scars all her life. Father never turned to look back. He just disappeared. Jung Sook was alone, desperate, and cold on the streets of Seoul in 1963 at the age of four.

Back home Jung Sook tried to find food. All that she found was raw rice and sweet potatoes. She could not light the coal stove. She fed little Kyung some raw rice, but it was too hard and her sister spit it out. A day later Kyung was sick, and Jung Sook knew she needed help. She remembered her father telling her earlier to go to the place with the big gates. And that was what she did. She found herself there later that day. The place with the big gates turned out to be the local orphanage. Jung Sook would spend four years there before Gordon Jones came to take her home to live with him and his wife Yoshi.

Gordon Jones was enlisted in the US Navy, a caucasian man married to a Japanese wife. In 1964 Gordon and Yoshi had adopted Kyung Sook and changed her name to Susan Louise Jones. Four years later, Gordon returned to the orphanage to adopt his daughter Susan’s sister, Jung Sook, and changed her name to Sharon Elizabeth Jones. He also changed her birthday from March 1959 to September 20, 1960 to allow her to enter the American schools at the best age to learn to read and write in English.

Sharon’s adoptive mother Yoshi did not want Sharon and let her know that every day. Sharon would grow up abused, beaten daily for no reason other than that she was there. She would be stripped naked and made to eat her food off the floor. She would have a cookie sheet strapped to her back and made to march around outside the apartment. Yoshi would cut her hair in a short haircut to make her appear ugly, while Susan wore the best clothes and had pretty hair. Yet, this little Korean wonder would flourish, always smiling. Her adoptive father Gordon called her Silent Sam because she rarely spoke.

She learned to read and write English in one summer, resulting in the local newspaper publishing an article about her. Sharon moved to New York, Japan, San Pedro in California. Then her father retired and they moved to San Diego, California. There Sharon attended Kearny High School, graduating in 1978. She became an avid competitive swimmer and in 1976 broke the San Diego city schools record for the Individual Medley. She worked at Career Guidance Foundation as a salesperson following a failed attempt at college. She would rise to director level in this job. She would live for five years with a drug dealer boyfriend, who years later committed suicide. But in 1987 her life would change.

That is when I met Sharon—in the spring of 1987.

I had gone to Tories, a bar in the La Jolla Marriott, to watch Dennis Connor win a race in the 1987 America’s Cup. Sharon was there with her friend Susan from work. They approached my friend and me. I was introduced to Sharon, and promptly informed her that I hated women, shopping, and the department store Nordstrom’s. What a winner! she must have thought. Despite my best anti-woman tactics, she gave me her business card and I called her two weeks later.

An enlisted man in the US Navy, I shipped out overseas soon after Sharon and I met. I wrote to her every day, but back then mail was all there was, and mail moved slowly. It took several weeks for my letters to reach her, and hers to reach me. Her dad was retired Navy, but all he had told her was that when a sailor leaves a girl at the pier, he leaves her for good. Don’t expect letters, he had said. Letters didn’t come, and Sharon began to think her dad was right. I had told her to write and be patient. She had bought me a large pad of letter writing paper, 50 sheets each of pink, blue, green, and yellow. She would keep every letter, and the pad of colored paper was reassembled in San Diego. She kept those letters, and I have them still.

There were many cards, long letters, and even a large box filled with all my favorite snack stuff like cheese curls, and tons of gummy bears (my all time favorite thing to eat). Sharon and I had spent the whole week together prior my to leaving. I knew there was something special about her, but I was cautious, as I was getting divorced from my first wife. By the time the ship got to Sasebo, Japan our letters had gotten very personal, but we both stayed a distance from mentioning the L word. I called her from the phone exchange at the base gym in Sasebo. Sharon had spent several years living on the same base at Sasebo. It was awesome to hear her small voice. She asked me about everything on the base, telling me how she had spent many days at that very gym. By the time the ship arrived in Pusan, Korea, I knew I was falling for her. Yet, I knew that how I felt might not be real. I had been in the Navy for 8 years, at sea for 6 long years. Four 6 to 8 months-long deployments had made me just another lonely sailor..

Two more months passed. Some of my letters were dark and depressing. Sharon seemed to understand, and encouraged me to be happy that I was coming home in one piece. By the time the ship docked in San Diego, I had one month left in service. Sharon was there, at the end of the pier at 32nd Street Naval Station. I looked for her and there she was, this tiny little Korean lady in a yellow dress, standing with the wives of several of my men. She was waving like crazy, welcoming her sailor home, this time for good.

Sharon and I spent a few weeks together before I left on terminal leave for North Carolina. The military pays to send you back to the place you entered the service. For me that place was a small farm in Chadbourn, North Carolina. I drove home across the country. Sharon had no idea if she would ever see me again. I needed to get my head screwed on straight as the divorce and the last deployment had messed me up. I felt like an empty shell. It was June of 1987, I was almost 26 years old, and I thought I had nothing to live for. I spent all of June at home in NC. By early July I was a mess. My mom knew I was not right and wanted me to help dad around the farm while I was there. I was showing no signs of getting a job anytime soon. I had had it with home; I was ready to end it all. One day, in a fit of rage, I began throwing all my stuff into my car to leave.

My mom ran to tell dad. He came out and asked where I was going. I said I was going to hell, right where everyone told me to go. He asked if I was in a hurry, and would I come inside and talk to him. He understood, as a Navy veteran of