First Sunrise

 

Mommy took this photo this morning, sitting out on the balcony at Daytona Shores after the longest night of her life.  She said this sunrise is her father's first sunrise in heaven.  Just before 3am, her father passed away.  He was 85, and it's odd to say it this way because of his advancing years, but yes, he was cut down in his prime.  He was healthy, fit, and sharp of mind.  He worked hard, did his best, and treated everyone with kindness.  He smiled frequently, was full of faith, and still was planning to do things after "all this mess was over with."  There was supposed to be more to his story. 

Cancer has taken another family member away from us.  Mommy's call this morning at 3am was... I actually can't come up with words to describe it.  I wish I was there for her, but there's nothing to say.  We can quote scriptures all day long, from Romans 8:28 to Proverbs 3:5-6.  "Don't lean on your own understanding," the Bible recommends.  And that's good advice, because "it rains on the just and the unjust," and there are times that this makes absolutely no sense.  This one scripture Mommy had found, and it's one we'll quote here, and hope for desperately.

Throughout the day, hundreds of people have left messages for Mommy.  It was a terrible day for her mother, of course.  It was so painful to watch her struggle with grief, and explosion of mourning that just spilled out everywhere, loud cries and wailing that will stick with me forever.  Being still in Georgia with Madison, I could not be there with Mommy or her mother.  Her son has arrived, and he's on hand to help out as well.

This morning after Madison went to school, I sat there alone in the house again.  We didn't tell Madison right away because we didn't want her day at school to be affected this way.  She has tests and classes, and we'll just have to figure this one out.  And tonight during taekwondo, it was just awful.  Madison had a great time in class, but meanwhile I was on the pavement of the parking lot, crying with Mommy as we talked over the computer.  

The thing about death is how selfish we all are, and how we want someone to be ripped away from the presence of God Himself, and away from the eternal joy that is heaven, just so they could be back with us a little longer.  George was in a great deal of pain, hiding it much of the time where he could.  His mind was sharp, and he was still focused and in good spirits.  His body simply refused to comply with all of that though, and in the end, we were left in shock.  We knew it would be a battle, and we knew the odds were against a victory.  But we never doubted he could make it through, and in fact were planning on just that.  The plan was for him to move up here "once all this mess was over with."  But there are other plans at work, and these are plans we don't understand, and may never understand.

But on his end of things, he's doing so much better than all of us.  To be absent from this body is to be present with the Lord, and from what we know of Him, that's pretty good.  Soon enough, we'll be with Ba-Ba, and we'll get to talk about all this and we'll laugh again.  Right now we are crying because we miss him so much, and it seems like such a long time from now that we'll see him again.  But see him again we will, and as this blog even shows, our lives are but a wisp, and yes we'll see him again very soon.