It’s a funny thing how moments can overtake you. You aren’t always asked permission. Sometimes they just happen. Such a moment occured for me today.
I went for a walk in a cemetery with a dear friend of mine. This is one of our favorite pastimes. This particular cemetery had a little side garden that was dedicated to the 12 apostles, with a small inscription written about each of their individual lives. We sat there a while, taking in the scenery and sharing a bit. The conversation soon turned to the concept of missing people. And how unnatural it feels when someone dies, to know that you will miss them the rest of the time you are on earth. And yet for that person, life has only just begun.
Around that time, I heard a dove cooing in a nearby tree. My friend asked me what I was thinking about. And my eyes started welling up with tears! Before I knew what was happening, I told her how that sound took me immediately back to my childhood. My grandparents lived beachside, and growing up, there would always be morning doves outside by their pool. It was a sound that often greeted me when I woke up in the morning after spending the night there. (Don’t worry… I didn’t sleep by the pool. Haha. In case you were concerned.) Thinking about my grandpa created quite a stirring in my heart. I wasn’t prepared for it.
These past several months I have been painfully aware of the fact that I will never get to have another conversation with my grandpa during the rest of my earthly life. It was so weird to me that he wasn’t at my graduation this year. I actually had to remind myself at one point that he wouldn’t be there. The last time I saw him was right before I left for Australia in 2008. I said goodbye to him before I left because I had this strange feeling he wouldn’t be there when I got back. And in fact, he wasn’t. He actually died the day before I came home.
I have changed so much in the last three years. So much life has happened! It’s surreal for me to think about the fact that he never knew anything about the experiences I had overseas. I never got to tell him about the incredible people I’ve met and how they’ve enriched my life. Gracious, I’m teaching English classes now to international students and he never even knew that I chose TESL as my degree. How crazy. There are so many questions I’d love to ask him, things I wish we could discuss. He was one of my favorite people to have a conversation with. He showed so much value to the people he was speaking with. As if he truly had never heard anything more fascinating than what that person was telling him. He always believed in me far more than I ever believed in myself. He was one of my biggest encouragers. He was also one of my favorite people to laugh with. We had such a good time together.
I miss him terribly.
As I sat there in that cemetery, I cried about it for the first time in almost two years. I never got to acknowledge a season of mourning when he died. I packed up four weeks after his funeral and moved to Virginia. And I’ve never lived in Florida since. I remember sitting in class that Fall and suddenly being feeling overwhelmed with a painful sadness at the realization that he was gone. What was even harder was realizing that life was moving on. Without him. It took a long time for it to really sink in that he had actually died. Sometimes I’d have dreams that he’d be sitting around the table with us and I’d asked him where he’d been this whole time. I’d wake up feeling as if the conversation had really happened.
It was so good to remember him tonight and even cry about it. I got to tell Catherine a little bit about what he was like. He was such a remarkable person! So cultured and well-read. He loved to learn. Until the week he died he was still going to the Library every week to check out new books. He loved music and was an avid appreciator of a wide variety of genres and composers. He also loved cooking and was well-versed in the culture of fine food & fine wine. He loved his family so much. It was a rare occasion if he didn’t choke up during prayer at the dinner table. Thanking God for his family always overwhelmed him with a sense of gratitude and unworthiness. It was so precious to know that!
My grandpa didn’t truly surrender his heart and life to Jesus until a few years before he died. He grew up a devout Catholic but towards his final years, he began to question whether or not he truly knew the Lord and had repented of his sin. After living a lifetime pursuing worth and meaning through all these other things that he loved (good things mind you!), I believe he was more alive in those last few years than he was the 90-something before. I know there was brokenness his life, and I’m sure there’s much about him none of us ever knew. But what hit me tonight in that little garden is was the thought that now he has been made whole and complete. A fuller being than he ever was during his time on earth. He lives in the presence of the Author of life; the one who gives meaning to all that we are. Here we spend our lives trying to find significance and worth, whether through our ambitions or accomplishments. And all along it is found in Him, the Source. Truth, Goodness and Beauty are his very essence. And I saw how my grandpa sought these things out as best as he could. Yet now his searching has been made complete. By finding freedom and forgiveness from sin in his last few years of life, he now gets to celebrate that freedom for the rest of eternity. What a thought! What a blessedly wondrous thought.
I still miss him. And I’m sure I always will. But what I’ve mostly been thinking tonight is how much I look forward to the day when we will be able to worship the Author together. Forever.
1 Thessalonians 4:17-18
