Jewells of Thought

February 5th, 2020

There is nothing that can replace the absence of someone dear to us, and one should not even attempt to do so. One must simply hold out and endure it. At first that sounds very hard, but at the same time it is also a great comfort. For to the extent the emptiness truly remains unfilled one remains connected to the other person through it. It is wrong to say that God fills the emptiness. God in no way fills it but much more leaves it precisely unfilled and thus helps us preserve – even in pain – the authentic relationship.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

During the night my thoughts hampered my sleep. In wanting to have the right balance of objectivity and emotions; my words kept knocking into each other. Therefore making sleep as elusive for me as it was fifteen years ago…

…early Sunday morning a ringing phone was caught by mom. Grandpa called before Sunday School asking how I felt that morning. I can still remember the phone call even if mom doesn’t anymore. Her voice saying something like she didn’t sleep well, was sneezing and coughing through the night. I am certain my nose was bright red, my voice was raspy, and looked absolutely terrible.

The ironic thing was that my two brothers and I would not be present at church that morning. My younger brother was supposedly sick, and then the middle one was working that day at the nursing home.

Grandpa was the first of the Deacons asked to give his testimony. It was something I don’t remember hearing about; I didn’t know he would be speaking to the congregation. For the longest time I was heartsick about not hearing his words that morning and that it wasn’t recorded. Everyone who attended that day has only spoke of how beautiful and eloquent his words were that morning.

My thoughts about that day for a decade was why was I sick? Why of all days was I not there for that beautiful moment and subsequent last words of my Grandpa?

Exhaustion was overwhelming, but sleep was not to be had. Before I knew it the phone rang. I thought that odd when I saw the number on the screen. Dad was calling, but his words were throaty, he was trying to tell me Grandpa had had a heart attack and was out. He didn’t have either of my uncle’s phone numbers and I told him I would call one of them. It was a very distressing call and difficult to process in my state.

Making the phone call was a little harder to do; everyone was at church. Now isn’t that a beautiful thought, all of us children were at Church that morning! Eventually my cousin answered and she said she would try to get her parents. They got the message and headed north as soon as they could. However, in the meantime, Dad called again… with the dreaded words.

What do you do when you’re sick, tired, worried, then you get the sobering news? Tears, mixed with my sneezing and coughing is all I could do. I felt so helpless even though I knew exactly where he was. Another cousin called me trying to calm me down then I only remember waiting. Waiting for everyone to come home, to find out what happened. Later on our preacher and his wife came out to our house. I remember tears and hugs. Then I had to call my roommate, I wouldn’t be at school for a couple of days.

Each tear was born from a deep love for Grandpa and from his love for Grandma, his kids and all his grandchildren. A picture is worth a thousand words and we have the supply to show us how deeply we were loved.

So what do we do now?

More to Come…