Today there was a funeral.

We sang about the City of Light ‘mid the Stars.

And about Glad Voices Lifted in Triumph on High.

We sang about being anchored in the Haven of Rest,

And about All the Way My Savior Leads Me.

We laughed.  We cried. 
We listened.  We prayed.
We cooked.  We visited. 
We ate. We cleaned up. 
We went home again.

And all the while, I thought about that Daddy of mine, safely home, there in that City of Light.  I wondered if it seemed to him but a minute before he turned and saw Daniel and Ivan and Ethel and Uncle John and now Val.

“Lift your glad voices, in triumph on high
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die. . .”

Tonight I struggle to reconcile this revisited grief with the intrinsic belief that these words are true.  I believe in Heaven, and I believe Daddy is there.  But there is something to be said about death, too, as we know it.  Right now, the reality of death is more experiential than that City of Light. 

No one panic.  I am not losing my faith.  I believe more than ever that Heaven is a real place, and that Daddy is there — But I miss him intensely as we pass off yet another hand into the hand of the Father. . . and I realize that this person who so lately spoke and laughed and walked with us, now is in the presence of The Father.  And Daddy is there. 

What a comforting thought!



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9 responses to “

  1. I felt so bad not even attempting to go, but I just couldn’t. I forced my way through John’s funeral and was a wreck afterwards. I don’t like it that Mom’s name is in that list. Not that you put it there … but that it has reason to be there in the first place.  I can’t picture her in heaven. I don’t know what it looks like. Unfortunately, this earth is our only reality and my mind doesn’t easily go much further.   Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad Jesus has prepared a place for us to go and I’m glad Mom is without pain or sorrow. I couldn’t wish her back to this awful world. But I miss her. Oh, how I miss her. Some day I know this awful ache in my chest is supposed to ease … but it hasn’t yet. Not yet.

  2. Death is so much more experiential than that City of Light – so true. How someone can be so alive (in Heaven) and yet so unavailable to us is a very painful mystery. I just hate it.To both of you dear ones who so recently lost a parent – we lost both of our mothers when they were in their fifties, Dick’s in 1981 and mine in 1982. At the time it felt that our lives could never be happy again. But I can truly say that after all these years there is NOT pain associated with the memory of them. I do not know when that happened, and I’m sure it’s different for each person. However, it’s going on three years now since my sister’s sudden death, and there most certainly is still a lot of pain when I think about her. I still really, desperately miss her.

  3. sometimes it just hurts so much to think of the ones we miss so much!

  4. My mother passed away 6 years ago. She was 93. The last years of her life we torture for her as she slipped into dementia. The memory of how she was before she became so ill is far more vivid to me now  than how her later years were. That is what I miss, the good natured,sweet little woman who was always busy and happy.

  5. love those hymns!  wonderful post.

  6. Sweet sorrow?  Only the memories are sweet.  The separation is something I think you never get over.  But if we let the memories narrow that separation it is bearable after time. When I miss our Mother and feel sorrow, I try to think of the happiness of when we had her and funny and sweet things about her.

  7. Thanks for your post.  Those aches just never completely go away.  It does not mean we don’t have trust in our Father.  It is now nearly 28 years that our little Angela went to heaven.  I miss her even after all these years.  Albert
    I got up early, too, and watched a beautiful fireworks, only it was not falling stars.  It was a lightning storm, but beautiful nevertheless.

  8. The door to my Jolly Little Cottage is always open to you my Dear BEG

  9. The door to my Jolly Little Cottage is always open to you my Dear BEG

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