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| Uncle Seth and Aunt Hope xo |
And now his life on earth has ended.
My sweet Uncle Seth xo
My loss is not as profound as others. His absence is felt by me but I can't begin to pretend that there are others who aren't feeling it now, with such depths of pain.
My sweet dear aunt.
With a grief that is palpable and numbing and surreal and horrendous.
Jesus hold her, hold them all.
I'm not sure if you've ever had the opportunity.
Yes, that's what it was opportunity
To be present when someone's life is ending.
To be in the room, in conversation with one who has lived well, loved fiercely and knows that he knows what his forever is.
To be talking with, hugging, crying with another human who has lived his whole life in anticipation for this moment.
I am privileged to have witnessed that thin veil of eternity begin it's parting. The doors that lead to forever had begun to open. Not a fear-filled forever. But the forever we were created to live in. The forever we have been mandated to live for, dream of, hope for.
It is just a thin veil separating us from what is real.
A thin veil away from our living and breathing.
It is all that comes between our being and our promised eternity to come.
He lived well.
He breathed his last.
...
He is more alive now then his 91 years on this earth.
He is home.
My family, my extended family, is facing death and the grief that it brings.
Quite a few these last couple of years, I'm afraid.
It's tough on the human soul.
Along with so many of you who recently have lost sweet friends, and sweet, sweet moms.
Dads and brothers or sisters you wish you knew better.
Or maybe you have lost children.
I don't pretend to know that kind of loss ... my heart is full for you.
Loss is great.
We all fight against it, and yet it's pretty much guaranteed that we're all going to face it.
Those we love, they will die some day.
We, you and I, will die some day.
It's just a fact of life.
And it's so hard.
So hard on the heart and the mind and the body.
We weren't created to die.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
That exhausting emotional journey called grief.
It is vast.
It can feel endless.
Because that wasn't the Creator's plan... that's not how He intended it to be.
So we hurt.
We grieve.
And yet, here we sit. You and I. I'm writing it, you're reading this (thank you).
We will finish this life on earth.
Let's do this well.
Let's come up with a plan, a plan to live until we die. To live like my sweet Uncle Seth, loving, being loved and knowing his God, and sharing, and giving of himself to those who were blessed to know him.
So here's how we need to do this ...
1. Let's live like we're dying.
Not morbid... fatalistic, brimming with pessimism and whoa is me... though I can be tempted. Let's live well by not putting off today what we should do, today. What I'm called to do, what you know you should do and maybe feel a little bit afraid... okay maybe terrified, to do.
2. Let's live with no more regrets.
This one may take some fixing. This one may take some action ... right now.
Have that conversation.
Make that apology.
Extend forgiveness.Stop worrying about what you're wearing or eating or doing or not doing today and make someone else's today more beautiful.
My sweet, young friend Shannon has said this so beautifully in her blog, which you can READ HERE. Beautifully written from a heart of one so young.
What if we were to live everyday, not as if it was our last, but if we were seeing our best friend for the last time…ever?What if we were to treat them with pure kindness, joy, appreciation, and love, because they meant the world to us?What if every word we spoke to them counted, and our last words summed up exactly how much we truly care about them and revealed our heart of hearts towards them?…..What would your last words be?And why don’t we live with this kind of appreciation, thankfulness, and love everyday?
Enough said.
3. Live Today... not curled up in entertain me mode in front of our Netflix, YouTube, movie screen, iPhone, laptop, game system.
Not running to the mall, or the gym, or the wine bar, or staying late at work.
Avoiding. Avoiding life and purpose and living
Put down the electronics. Put down the book. Step away from the TV.
Pick up the phone and have a conversation or a FaceTime/Skype.
Go have a coffee or an iced tea or a beer (I hate beer) or dinner or lunch or brunch (I love brunch).
Walk out your front door and go see your mom or go meet your neighbor.
4. Write that card or letter or email.This stems from the last one ... and is how we do the second one.
Today I heard Beautiful. I heard the most beautiful obituary, from a son who was loved and who loved well. It was an echo of what was already said, out loud, in person, to his dad. His dad, died knowing this love.
Obituaries can be beautiful.
Obituaries can be sad.
Obituaries can be painful.
Because way too often, they're words that were never said to the living. Sometimes they're even filled with plain ole' fibs. Because the relationship really sucked, the person was really miserable or mean or ... you know who I'm talking about.
But those relationships that didn't suck, or shouldn't have been messed up, or stayed shallow when you wished they were deep. That's when the obituary is sad.
Maybe you've already lived this for someone you love. Someone who has died. Someone you wish you had said more to.
But look around you. There are more someones in your life. There are others who need you to see them, talk to them, listen to them, be present in their lives.
Today. Live today, telling that person, those people, that someone, what you would say if you were standing, at their memorial service, at their graveside.
There might be awkwardness.
There will possibly be tears and emotion.
Let me lovingly say ... Get over it.
Buy a card, one that you really mean.
Write out the words.
Tell them you love them.
You know who them is, who I'm talking about.
Don't be creepy like they're already dead but don't wait until it's too late.
Eternity is hope and forever and amazing, when we place our hope in the One who created it so.
And when Eternity has kissed your heart ... you don't look at Forever the same.
Live well,
my friend.
Love well.
