ForgottenWoman

Can I Put it into Words?

We received the phone calls yesterday: Pop Thompson is with Jesus. We knew it was coming. We had traveled to Va. to see him just a few weeks ago knowing that his days on this earth were coming to an end. We told him how much we loved him, we hugged him, we took pictures with him; knowing they were the last – and as we drove away we shed tears that are a part of life. Pop lived a long 97 years on this earth and we are so grateful but we cannot help but grieve for what we no longer have.

Grief in these immediate moments of hearing the news feels different to different individuals, I’m sure. To me, it feels like desperate alone-ness. I was immediately drawn to the memory of my own father’s bedside on the evening that he passed away. The family stood circled around his bed singing to him – each of my siblings with their spouse’s arms around them, my grandparents on either side of my mother with arms around her – and then there was me: the young 26 year old widow with no one’s arms, no one’s hugs and feeling incredibly alone in the world. I felt this again yesterday for hours – and into today. Just physically alone in my grief. This man was the biological grandfather of my eldest two sons and the extra grandfather to my other 7. They all knew him to varying degrees but each loved him for who he was in their lives. They are each walking through their own kind of grief surrounding his death.

I knew him as the father of my Jonnie. The man who called me his porcelain doll, who took me in as another daughter. He was the man who grieved desperately when we lost Jonnie, who worried over what would happen to me and our boys, who told stories for hours and never held back when sharing his opinions. He was the man who came the day after my own father’s death to be with us, to be the male presence in my boys’ lives as much as he possibly could. He was the man who would travel to where we were and hike with them, play ball with them, fall sleep with them in his arms every afternoon of his visits. He loved us as Jonnie’s family and when I chose to re-marry; he was the man who walked me down the aisle and gave me to the man that he believed was choosing to love and protect and provide for us. In this moment, grief feels like a deep, lonely sadness that I share with no one.

But there is the other side to grief when our loved ones know the Lord. I cling to his last words to me – assuring me that he was going to be seeing Jonnie soon and that he was going to let him know that I love him. Thinking about that reunion brings another kind of tears – and though he didn’t mention it the last time we saw each other; I have no doubt he has connected with my own father in heaven and relayed similar messages. He has told them that I’m ok – and I even wonder if he has looked at Jesus in the face and said, “Our girl, Joy is going through something we never imagined she would! We thought she would be loved for the rest of her life and she is hurting and feeling alone. Jesus; please take care of her!” Yes, this is my imagination running wild but wouldn’t that be such a wonderful thing if these kinds of conversations happen when our loved ones get to heaven ahead of us? Of course, Jesus already knows – but what if those who do love us are talking about it and making their requests known to Him! Tears of joy and wonder roll down my face as I consider these things and as I consider the fact that this man lived 97 years here on earth and has now finished his race – and I’m sure is hearing, “Well done; good and faithful servant!”

Grief again; is multifaceted and will come in waves of sorrow and joy in the days, weeks, months and even years to come. We will treasure our memories and share our thoughts with those who will listen and we will continue to rejoice in the promise of eternal life where there will be no more tears; no more saying, “Goodbye!”