We all have witnessed the passing of someone close to us. If we pay attention to the news (if that is what you call it) death happens all the time. How do we process it when someone goes Home?
Perspective
It was written several years ago and revised in 2023 it's long but hopefully worth your time.
(A link to the original https://express.adobe.com/page/ckKM5i9AjBieN/ )
I went to a celebration of life for a man I met but didn't know. He coached my daughter in softball, and his daughter and mine were sent to the same school. My daughter, who has an angel's heart, wanted to go to provide support to her classmate.
He went reasonably young in his life, and I could tell that he left his mark on the people who knew him, his wife, and his daughter. It reminded us that each day we are given gives us a chance to make a mark with another. To perhaps remind them of goodness, kindness, gentleness, love, laughter, or whatever it is that leaves that mark. Indeed, hopefully for the good and not the mark for the bad.
It did make me reflect on how we process when we lose someone in our lives. I wrote this many years ago. I share it because I have met so many folks who have lost a loved one. My hope is that this provides a point of view for them and perhaps a way for you to consider when that time comes, and God calls someone you love home.
I remember when I received an email about a family that lost their daughter to cancer. She was all of three years old. My heart hurt for her parents, and my soul rejoices in knowing she is in heaven. But my heart aches for them.
When I was very young, I watched my father's father go from a healthy-looking man to someone who was going to pass away. He looked healthy to me and represented such great memories for me: fishing, the smell of beer in the air, NY Met games in the backyard and the how-to-hook slide. I have such great fond memories of my Grandfather from childhood.
The day he passed away, I had the chance to visit him in the hospital. I thought for sure I could see death on his face. I knew he wouldn't be with us very long. He passed that night. I'm not sure if God took him home. I do hope He did. Grandpa was great for me, but I also found out later that it was not great for some.
No matter, it was my first chance to understand the process of losing a loved one. Someone that mattered to you, and they were gone and gone for good.
I didn't cry for a few days. I wasn't sad. I guess watching him suffer through his cancer and seeing him be peaceful in the coffin brought me a sense of comfort. It wasn't until I heard a Met's game, the sound of the bat, and the excitement of the announcer ... it hit me. I teared up and balled my eyes out. I missed him. I missed what I did with him. I missed the feeling he gave me, and I felt empty inside.
A few years later, a close friend of mine's mother lost three critical people to her in twelve months. This woman was very faithful. She always had a great smile and was so very giving. She was crucial to me in those years.
I remember her being very angry at God, crying often, talking with me, and telling me how unfair it was. I also remember very clearly what I told her. In my teens, I said, "You can't be selfish when it comes to God."
Imagine telling a woman who was like a mother to you in her moments of grief that she couldn't be selfish. By the way, I was just a kid. What did I know?
I told her God didn't mind her being upset with Him. He knew she was going to react that way. He knew she would be upset. He knew she would feel lonely and have a very empty, desperate feeling inside. I also added that they were the lucky ones. We, the ones left behind, had the hard job. They, of course, would be in paradise where there are no cares, no tears, and no suffering—none of what we have here.
She asked me, "Why live then?" I said because that's what God needs you to do. If He wanted you Home, he'd take you just like he did her parents, aunt, and my Grandfather. We are to live so their memory and what they represented would live on even though they were no longer here. Our world needs people like us who love people so much that we are genuinely saddened when they are gone. It's that kind of love that helps others.
Losing a loved one is so very hard.
I remember when our first parent passed. My wife lost a father, my children lost a grandfather, my mother-in-law lost a partner, and I lost a great father-in-law. It took me a while to cry about it. Months this time. I'm an adult, after all, and a grown man. However, I found my way back to the crack of the bat, but this time simply in the quiet just talking to God, and something sparked the notion "He's gone". I wept for that lonely place you feel, knowing you can never tell that person anything. Hear their laugh. Watch them smile, shake their hand, hug them, or get a little ticked off at them. I cried because it was all too soon. It wasn't fair. He was too young. He was too good a person to leave. But I heard, "You can't be selfish with God."
So, I changed how I feel about it. I hurt. I even cried writing this. But I do know this. I'm a better person for that part of my life that I knew him. I'm here with great memories and stories to share. I'm here to let him live on just like my Grandfather. Perhaps I'm here to help you as you process a loss. We know that even though it hurts, life continues, and we do not always have to mourn. Instead, we can celebrate the time we had. It will never be enough, but it was indeed a blessing to have had it.
To me, their final resting place is not in the ground, in the ashes on the shelf, or in the place that God took them from. No, their resting place is in the hearts and memories of the lives they touched—all of them, not just mine or yours—in the people they made differences in (big or small) and how those people's lives were impacted.
That same woman years later lost her husband, and she hasn't recovered from that heartache. How could she? He was her soulmate, the love of her life. She was in her 80s, and I was no longer a teenager. I'm not at her kitchen table to be so bold with my words. I would want to say those words to her but wouldn't. I would hug and hold her, hoping to give her a slight comfort. I would thank her for being part of my life, and I would cry with her, mourning her loss. I would pray for her so our God would give her grace to recover, renew, and live. I would be better because of the time she had with him.
I got to visit with her since I wrote this. Indeed, I hugged her, and while I didn't pray with her, I did pray for her. She prayed that she would continue to find joy from having had him. Joy in that she felt loved by a man she loved enough to miss and hurt for. To me, that is a special love. To me, it is a love to cherish and to celebrate. To hold in your soul and reflect it to others. To show this world until the day comes when God has decided He needs you in His Home, not your own. Until then, He needs us to reflect this love in our lives and share that cherished gift of love with others. To not do this is to miss an incredible opportunity to reflect the goodness of God in that He blessed us with a loved one. A person who made a difference for us.
It's easy to write about hope, God, and being selfish. Especially when you haven't lost that spouse or the young child, no words can ever bring comfort since that new normal is not comfortable. However, we must always understand that when we say "Your Will be done," we must mean it. No matter what.
I have lived through a friend of mine who has lost two grandchildren. It truly hurts my soul to even think of it—the circumstances around their loss. You can't even imagine it, and nothing you can say could bring meaning to it.
In that season, his road was dark, yet the ray of light, the Holy Spirit, reflected so strongly in him and shone ever brighter. When faith is truly tested, and darkness surrounds it, the Spirit shines even more colorfully in a man of God's life. It has in him. It is truly unique to witness, to be part of, and to, in a very small way, help.
During that same time, I was with a man who was terminally ill with cancer. He was the happiest dying man I ever met. He, too, had a spirit that radiated. He, too, was taken away too young. He, too, loved God and let that love shine brightly even in the darkest of times.
Since I wrote this, my wife and I have witnessed more deaths. The people in this story have also witnessed more deaths. Those deaths are always so very hard, especially when you can't wrap your head around the why. These deaths have helped me resolve the idea of "Thy Will Be Done."
As my father passed away, I was able to bear witness to a man who did not have the kind of faith I feel I have but had an encounter with our Savior—a man who called out, "Lord, please. Lord, I am sorry. Lord, not now." It stood the hair up on the back of my neck. It stopped me in my tracks. He didn't pass away just yet. God gave him and us another 24 hours with my father. I wrote about those three days with my father and, ultimately, my mother. I can say that God revealed so much to me. It was overwhelming then and today as I reflect on that and all the other stories of people passing.
I have been so very blessed to be part of these lives. To witness how to process loss. God keeps revealing thoughts that I hope inspire you as they inspire me. We need to overcome the losses in our lives so that we, the humble servants of God, continue to live in a world that requires us. To live on despite what has happened. We need to allow the Holy Spirit, our comforter and teacher, to help us endure in a place that will toss us some harsh things. Despite that, our next day will bring someone to make a difference for, a story to help us with our lives, and inspiration to get a new awareness. A day to hug someone you knew so long ago. It is a day to give praise and thanks to a God who loves us through each of the loved ones he has given us.
Prayer
Father God, please bless all of us who have lost loved ones. Bring us Your grace and heal our broken hearts. Teach us that you gave us the time with them to have had the chance to know them, even if only for a moment. Teach us that while we can never have enough time, at least we did have that time. Teach us to live and love on. We ask all this in Your son's name, Jesus, our Lord and our Savior. Amen.
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