I’m in a reflective mood today.
I was forwarded an email about a woman who recently passed away from ovarian cancer. The email contained the remarks her husband gave at her memorial service. Truly amazing. Heart-wrenching. So touching.
It got me thinking again about my own death and my (pre-written) obituary. It got me thinking about the way we all try to live life as if death isn’t a possibility when in reality it is one of the ONLY things we can count on. It got me thinking about my dad, my uncle, my grandmother, my mother-in-law, my dog. And then my mind tumbled to my father’s mother and father. And my grandfather on my mother’s side whom I never knew. And I sure hoped they understood and weren’t upset that they were listed after a basset hound.
I don’t understand death. Death is so hard and difficult and I don’t understand it. There is a part of me that gets angry because death is so difficult. There is part of me that thinks it shouldn’t be that way, that whoever came up with this plan - of being in a body that gets sick and suffers and dies – wasn’t thinking things through very well.
Why not fiery chariots to heaven for all of us? It’s been done before.
And when I don’t understand something, I at least try to find meaning in it. I try to find purpose. I try to learn whatever lesson is there to learn. Because I have to believe that suffering has purpose. I have to trust that Whoever did put this whole thing together knows what He is doing. I have to believe that death has meaning.
I don’t know how to resolve that, exactly. I only know what I have experience and I know that I am a different person because of the losses in my own life. I know that because of his imminent death, my father poured lesson after lesson into my young mind – as much as would fit and more. And I know these lessons pour out of me.
The gasoline cap
Will this matter in eternity
And as I write, more and more lessons flood my head. Not themed and not as tidy as the others but equally as important
I love you
You are okay
Men open doors for women
There are girls boys date and then there are women men marry
This is how you do donuts in a Buick in the snow
Would he have done it if his mortality wasn’t looming over him? Would he have done it if cancer wasn’t eating its way through his body? Would he have done it if he thought he would live long enough to walk me down the aisle at my wedding or kiss his grandchild or help me buy my first, second and third houses? The Buick one, without a doubt, but the others?
I don’t know.
Maybe I am simply trying to find meaning in something meaningless.
Like I said, I’m in a reflective mood today.