Gone, really truly, gone

I will never pick the phone and say, “Hi, Dad. What’s on the agenda today?” again! We will never go to Perkins for breakfast again. He loved that. All his endless dreams will never aggravate me again. Yes, what others found inspiring, I often found tiring and my inner response was often, “Come on, get real, Dad.” He never did ‘get real.’ On his deathbed, he was dreaming about an outreach to homeless people in the neighboring town. Just two weeks ago, after seeing a special about poverty in Haiti, he insisted that I write to somebody and find out how he could adopt six of those poor kids. (I never did that!) On Thursday morning ‘round 9 AM, there was a rip in time. With a sigh, time ended for Dad. Mysteriously some part of him passed through that tear, out of reach. We were left with the shell, a body that looked like him but was not. And now he’s gone.

The sorrow I feel is like a presence stalking me. I laugh, enjoy a child’s smile, love the sunshine, pray, sing – then it takes me, almost physically holding onto me, paralyzing me for a minute, dragging a sob from my throat. I write like I’m the first to know this. And I smile at my wonderment! After all, I have walked hundreds of families through sorrow and loss. I know the process, but this is not rational. It is raw emotion.

One thing that drives that presence of grief back is hope. The Scripture tells me that "we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope." (1 Thessalonians 4:13, NLT) From the Word, I learn many things that bring me some measure of comfort. Primary among them is that there will be a Resurrection that will reunite body and soul and all those who await the coming the Lord! And, too, I learn that God is near, His Presence, a refuge. "God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. So we will not fear when earthquakes come and the mountains crumble into the sea. Let the oceans roar and foam. Let the mountains tremble as the waters surge!" (Psalm 46:1-3, NLT)

The other gift that makes this passage endurable is love. In this I am a most blessed man. People don’t even really know stop to say, “I’m sorry for you,” and it helps. Grown men and kids alike hugged me yesterday as I moved through the congregation, each embrace a reminder of love. My kids call and listen to me ramble and weep and I feel their love. My wife tenderly holds my hand while I cry, wordlessly loving me. Never before, in my entire life, have I realized how important it is to have a web of love woven as that proverbial ‘safety net!’

There is one more thing that makes this day when I will bury my Dad bearable – his legacy! He was no simple saint. Yes, he loved God and people, no question about that. But, he was a complex man, too. I knew his humanity, his sinful nature. But, I saw him take the Spirit’s power and beat back the powers of sin and darkness – in himself and in the world. I have received notes that tell me of acts, big and small, in which he left a better world, for the glory of God. One man told me that on his first visit to Dad’s church he was greeting by him at the door. Dad asked, “Do you have a Bible?” When the man said no, Dad handed him his own leather-bound study Bible on the spot! Another told me about a time when Dad gently rebuked his harshness with his kids and said, “I always try to find a way to say ‘yes.’” Many have written to tell me how he led them to Jesus and their lives were changed. I am a living legacy, passing along the faith, he gave to me –not so much in his eloquence, but by example.

Tim McGraw’s song urges us to “live like you were dyin'!” Because, we are! Someday, there will be rip in time and we will step through it and be gone. May those who are left to weep have the comfort of the Resurrection hope because we have walked with Christ and in His grace. I want to leave a legacy; not of fortune, nor of fame; but of loving others.
___________


Remember this ....

He has achieved success...
who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much;
who has enjoyed the trust of pure women,
the respect of intelligent men,
and the love of little children;
who has filled his niche and accomplished his task;
and has left the world a better place than he found it,
whether an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul;
who has always looked for the best in others,
and given them the best he had;
whose life was an inspiration;
whose memory a benediction.

Bessie Anderson Stanley's definition of "success" in
Brown Book Magazine, 1904, as quoted in "Dear Abby," July, 1992)