Fear looked at me in the eye. It stared me down. I looked away as tears touched my cheeks soaking down my broken heart. You won, I said. It was my greatest fear — the fear of losing both of you. When it came, it shocked me and rocked me to my core.
It made me vulnerable. Alone. Where to go? What to do? So many questions stab me in all directions as I crouch down in fear. I have no answer. I felt like a lost poor soul, rained down on a dark, cloudless day.
You know why I hurt so much? I see your value. If only life is based on how well life is lived, you’d live forever. How could this happen to you? How unfair! I know that if it was a choice, you would want to live longer to see your family grow — the family that you had invested in, the children you so lovingly raised and the grandchildren that you wished for and adored.
People often spoke to me of your kind hearts but kindness does not guarantee long life. Neither do wealth, health, fame nor happiness — even courage. No one can truly be prepared to die, I know. But still. No matter how much effort we put in to be ready for that moment, nothing can truly prepare us for the pain, the grief and the devastation that comes from losing a loved one. That’s how I feel.
How could I forget? There is hope. We have faith. We have God. This is what you taught and showed me all my life and the greatest gift you’ve given me. That hope and faith in God can carry us through, even when we are at the losing end. It is what I screamed back at Fear when I was in my saddest, grievous moments. I gathered up what little strength I could just to make everything get back to normal. This is what you’ve prepared me for. All those times we spent on our knees, the times we sang those songs during family worships, the times you sent me away to school and to my mission trips, the times you prayed for me on the phone and the times you made me memorize Psalm 23rd. You prepared me to face Fear.
If you were here right now as I wrote this, I know what you would do, what you would say. You’d gather me in your arms, hold me close, cry with me and pray for me. You would also remind me to trust…”Jesus, Jesus how I trust Him. O, for grace to trust Him more.” Your voice I long to hear again.
Thank you for every genuine moment you spent with me, guiding me, loving me and showing me strength. Thank you for teaching me to skip in the rain, sit in the puddles, splash around and just soak in the moment knowing that God is still in control.
Maybe it’s quite selfish, but I wish you were still here because I miss your presence every day. Rest well, my loves. See you on that bright resurrection morning.
All my love,
***Pops could have been 67 years old today, instead, he is forever young. Happy birthday, Pa!