In My Fathers House

My brother, husband, and I sat in the funeral home listening to the owner explain the different perks of each urn placed before us. We had been through this 3 years prior when our mother passed away. Funny I couldn't recall anything about my mothers arrangements. The final urn presented to us was stainless steel. I couldn't help laughing. It was so inappropriate in this serious  and formal setting. My brother gave me an inquisitive look. I couldn't help it. I blurted out "Marc, it looks just like a martini shaker". We both busted out laughing. My husband looked at the funeral director "Sold!" George had a serious love affair with martini's. The urn couldn't have been more perfect.

Our mother had passed away during the Easter season. Now our father during Christmas.  Ironically mother loved Easter. Our father loved Christmas. They both died during a full moon at the same hour. I have no idea if there's some spiritual revelation tied to these coincidences. I'd like to think God was giving us the gift of the birth of a new season. The resurrection of a new way of life. 

It is still surreal. We aren't even 50 years old. Yet we are parent-less. So strange. We have no living relatives left. Just us. The Lord was so sweet to us. He knew we would need family even before we knew it. We both married into fabulously large families that we adore. The kind of families we both had wished for as children. 

We share a bond. A childhood that no one will ever understand. We have been blessed beyond measure with spouses who push us forward. Who challenge us to be our best despite our past. 

The days leading up to the death of our father were agonizing. We wanted the suffering of this horrific death to end.  It seemed to drag on. Little did we know God was using those last 48 hours for all of us to be at peace.

I wonder if this is how the disciples felt after the death of Jesus? When Jesus took His final breath were they relieved that He was finally at peace?  No more suffering. No more pain. He was in heaven. Were they left with an overwhelming sense of grief? Did they wonder if they could have done things differently? Did they still have unanswered questions? Did they question if they had learned all that they needed to from Jesus?

We held hands and gathered around my fathers bed in the final hours of his life. We prayed for him. We told him to go. We laid hands on him. At 12:11 AM he was gone.

In that moment I realized all was reconciled. Marc and I were free. The decade of taking care of parents who were ill was over.  The past 3 years of tending to a father who was never pacified was over. Relief. Yet complete and utter sadness. The grief will pass. Marc and I will heal. But in this moment, today, there is such sorrow for what could have been.

And yet I'm thankful. Thankful to a father who showed Marc and I how  to love a spouse. Thankful that I have inherited my dad's tenacity. Appreciative for my genetic predisposition of the love of architecture and history. Thankful that because of our parents  idiosyncrasies I have a relationship with my baby brother that no one will quite understand. A history. A bond that joins us together.

I'm watching the sun rise from my desk this morning. It's a new day dawning. George is where he's wanted to be for the past 3 years. He's in heaven reunited with my mother. They are both whole. Healthy. In the presence of the only One who can make the world right.

Rest In Peace, Dad. Rest In Peace.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”-Rev 21:4