When all is said and done ...

Well, it's been one month since my Cousin, April, passed away suddenly of a massive stroke. I keep trying to put it all together in my mind, but I find myself unable to simply grasp the entire reality that she is gone. The days move along and I suppose that somewhere in the back of my mind I am still waiting for my cell phone to ring with that ridiculous ringtone with the dramatic music that I picked out for her ... "Oh no! It's April calling! What does she want?! What does she want?!!". I can't seem to find the ability to remove her number from my phone. I suppose that I am holding onto some residual hope left over from her final moments on life support. It seems ridiculous as I write this, and yet my phone remains next to me ... untouched.

There are a million things that I could write about April. Her life was a mixture of many different elements, both good and bad, that made her into the complex individual that she was. And it was the life that she had experienced, with it's disappointments mixed with middle age, that made her choose to live the final days of her life courageously facing her future as an individual with only God and herself to answer to. Two days before she collapsed onto her bedroom floor, she bravely embraced the possibilities that existed beyond where she was in  life by packing her belongings into her Dodge Caravan and going home. Things had changed over the 28 years since she had left, and her Mother wouldn't be there to greet her when she came back, but it was home...  God had blessed her with this second chance, her Dad was there, and that was all that mattered.

Two days before she died, her Son, Ricky, and I went out early to help her pack her van. She had carefully and selectively packed things that she knew that she would need for now. In the beginning, we were uncertain that we get all of the boxes into her vehicle, but when we were finished, the van was perfectly packed and each box had it's place; with no room for another thing. When we finished and it was a certainty that she was leaving, she embraced Ricky and me. With a flood of tears flowing between all of us, she told us both how much she would miss us. As I held her, I cried with the thought that things would never be the same. She was growing up and would never again be that little girl with big hopes and dreams that had been in my life for 48 years. It was day one of the rest of her life. And as we drove down the road, the world felt different for me.

Four days later, As I stood in a back hall of the Hospital seeing her for the last time before she was taken for organ donation surgery, 48 years of memories, laughs, and tears flooded my mind. Truthfully, the entire event had been an emotional overload for me. As I looked down at her, there was a part of me that acknowledged that there was a purpose in this loss and that God is ultimately in control of it all. As the Doctors and Nurses pushed her onto the elevator and the doors closed, the weight of no longer being able to share anything with her landed squarely on my shoulders, but I knew that she was finally where she wanted to be: with her Savior that she had tried so long to serve and the Mother that she missed so much.

I could sit down and spill a million things about April's life and what she has experienced, many things that I alone know about. In each of our lives there are an abundance of moments that aren't necessarily good or pleasant, things that we would just as soon forget, and it was no different for April. However, I choose to put all of the bad aside and to focus on the good. As it is with all of us, April wasn't perfect. There were things that she did and said that weren't always positive. I but I know that ultimately, deep down inside, April was still an innocent and caring little girl looking and longing for unconditional love, and trying to find happiness along the way. Despite her imperfections, I have found that forgiveness and acceptance are the two best things that I can extend to her memory, and the things that help me to remember how wonderfully fun and loving that she really was.

I have learned that when someone dies, and everything is all said and done, it is the little things, those little imperfections and habits that you mentally catalog with all of the good memories that help you to remember what a wonderfully unique person they were ... unlike anyone else that you have ever known... and that make you thankful to God that you were able to share the planet with them during your lifetime.

I never considered April merely my First Cousin, I loved her as my Sister and my best friend... I miss her. I can't even begin to tell you what I will do without her.

One for the road ...

I have thought very deeply about what I wanted to put in the last post on my site. I have probably rewritten this a couple of dozen times already, but I have finally came up with my final version. I have decided that since this is a “goodbye” of sorts, I would write about some of the defining goodbyes of my life. Of course, goodbyes are never easy, but within every final moment with someone, there is an opportunity to grow beyond where you are and mature through your grief.

Mama – My goodbye to her was when she passed away back in 1993 in our local hospital. As she lay there taking her last breaths on this side of eternity, I held her hand, moistening her skin with the tears that were flowing from my eyes. During those moments, I could not imagine life continuing for any of us without the person that had managed to keep us all together. But Mama slowly and quietly stepped away, turned back for one last look, and went on to a far better place. I miss her, but through her death and my grief came much needed growth and maturity for me.

Kaye – Our goodbye was a quick hug and a promise to “see you tonight” as we put away our Choir robes away after singing in the last morning service at Church. As she walked out the door that morning, I had no idea that I would never see her again. But a short time later, she was gone. This has been a very painful transition for me, but I continue to stay in the Choir and miss her standing there beside me. Through her sudden death and publicly sharing my grief has come a much closer walk with God and a deeper understanding of what death really is.

David – David was an old friend of mine from a different time in my life. He died in November of 2006 of AIDS, but since I didn’t hang out with any of my old friends anymore, I didn’t know it until this past January. David was a wonderful person on the inside and really wanted to change his life, he just lacked the ability to do it. When I visited his grave the first time, I couldn’t help but to wonder if he had the opportunity to change before he died. But mainly, I stood there and grieved for his death and wished that I could have been there to share Christ with him. I really don't know where he is. Through his death and my moments at his grave came a new found courage in letting go of the past.

Sherry - The night that my Sister passed away, I went to visit her in Hospice. As she lay there in the bed, I watched her try desperately to open her eyes and look at me, but she was unsuccessful. And so, in the quiet and low light of that room, I told her I love her, among other things, for what was the first time that I can recall saying it to her. I never quite understood God's timing for her death, but her nature and the way she wore this burden spoke volumes to all of us. Through her death came a much more intimate understanding of what childlike faith and pure humility really is.

And so we have reached the end and the time for this goodbye.

It seems strange and deeply saddening to think of there being some end to this facet of my life, to simply put this experience down and move on to the next thing, but I feel the hand and will of God gently guiding me along and I can do nothing but to follow. On a human level, it’s like taking an old friend to the train station and knowing you’ll never see them again. However, in order to grow and mature as Christians and as people, we must sometimes let things go. It is a fact of life that change is inevitable. Different paths and directions are a also a part of our Christian walk.

On the journey that I have taken this past 42 years on earth, I have learned that ultimately there is only one important thing, above and beyond everything else that we may encounter in our lives … and that is love. When you truly love another person, it can’t just be let go. However, It is something that, if we truly have it in our heart, will endure and go beyond the boundaries of this life. And if all else is failing around us, love can make it all alright. However, love is not just a feeling ... it is something far greater.

For me, it is a moment in time when I thought my direction in life would never change, and a look into a woman’s eyes from across a table altered my reality. Within that brief gaze was my instantaneous realization of what love really was and the first and only time in my life that I have ever truly felt it for someone. I realized that there was a part of me beyond the boundaries of what I believed about who I was, and that singular event set into motion the change of direction that would eventually lead me to Christ. It was a defining moment in my life and (as some close to me can tell you) is still just as relevant to my personality and choices right now.

When you really love somebody, it is forever. Love is more than a physical or mental action for us. Love is an emotion without boundaries and is purity from our hearts. Its presence has a cleansing effect on our lives and in our spirits. When it is real, it is just as powerful and defining after many years as it was when we first felt it.

True and boundless love is what Christ felt for each one of us the day the he died on the cross. He saw beyond all of our hurts and faults, and found a reason to die ... for nothing more than love for us. That volume of love is incredible to me and I am so very humbled by His unselfishness. I cannot imagine ever turning back.

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life." - John 3:16

I love all of you, but it's time for me to go. I'll see you when we get home. I wish you peace and love for your own journey.

"Thank you, Lord, for giving me this time to be here and for allowing me to share you with others. I love you so much.

Amen."

A man called "Daddy"

I have written twice about my Father since I began this website, but I have never really opened up about his death and I feel that the time has come to clear some things up and let some things go. It has taken me a while to write this, not just in terms of time, but also in terms of emotions. It is also very honest and shows my human side. This is probably going to be the most honest that I have ever been, but I am ready to open up and move beyond this in my life.

"A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance, But by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken." - Proverbs 15:13

This verse says so much about being conflicted ...

"Do not have two differing weights in your bag—one heavy, one light. Do not have two differing measures in your house—one large, one small. You must have accurate and honest weights and measures, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you." - Deuteronomy 25:13-15

When Daddy died, I didn’t really know how to react. There had been so many problems with our relationship, and I had experienced so many different emotions toward him. I knew that I was sorry that he had died and that we had never developed the kind of relationship that we should have, but I wasn’t necessarily flooded with regret. I really didn’t know what to feel. There was a sincere sadness inside my heart upon seeing the empty shell of my Father lying there that first night at the funeral home: our first time seeing his body. Within me arose the wish that we could go back and make up for lost time. However, I emotionally realized and fully accepted the fact that he was gone and that a chapter of my life had ended.

My Brothers, on the other hand, were inconsolable and comforted each other with hugs and tears. I stood there, staring at the casket and the man lying in it, alone. He was my Father, too, and yet everyone in the room at that moment noticed the gulf that had formed between the two of them and me. I did not have any intentions of validating my manner of grief with them. It was mine alone, and I would have to deal with it. While they comforted each other, I would let them have their moment.

My lack of deep, profound grief was a two-sided story, though. First of all, I had no doubt in my mind as to where Daddy was going when he died. I knew that his heart was right with God and that he was headed for Heaven. I knew this simply because he had grieved so much over our Mother and wanted so badly to see her again. The people that knew my Father from Church had not seen the side of him that we had; the part of him that was buried with Mama. I also knew that if God could forgive me for the things that I have done, God could certainly forgive my Father. If nothing else, Daddy was sincere in his belief in God.

Secondly, Daddy and I had never met on common emotional ground. We didn’t get along for many years and the words “I love you” were never spoken. We just didn’t see eye to eye, and after my very rocky childhood relationship with him, we never really got to know each other. At best, we had become friends before he died. As Daddy got older, I figured that he didn’t know how to meet me in the middle so that we could truly have a Father and Son relationship. I think that we both eventually developed an acceptance of each other. It was enough for the both of us.

In what had been as nothing more than a moment in time when my Brothers acted as if I could not have possibly felt what they were feeling, were volumes of my life laid out for everyone in the room to see that night. That singular incident said more to those people than I would ever be able to express. I was excluded on most of the proceedings surrounding his death, my assistance or input not having been solicited. However, I did not permit myself to simply collapse beneath them, much as I had so many times when I was young. I will also not allow myself to be overtaken by resentment. God is giving me the opportunity to forgive and move on, and that is what I am doing as I write this.

The truth is that no one could have possibly felt what I was feeling. My grief was not based on how much time he and I had spent together, but on how much time we had spent apart. I stood there having to deal with and pray over 40 years of emotion, and having to find forgiveness ... not just for Daddy, but for myself.

"Then Peter came to Him and said, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven." - Matthew 18:21-22

"A foolish son is a grief to his father, And bitterness to her who bore him." - Proverbs 17:25

Before I left that night, with one last look at Daddy lying there in his suit, I realized just how far I had come and the degree of growth that I had experienced in simply being there to close out this chapter of my life. No one will ever fully understand what the volume of my emotions and experiences have done to make me who I am. Within my spirit ... my soul ... was age and maturity despite what anyone may have thought that night. I felt as if I had lived two lifetimes as I walked away from that casket.

Through my trials of growing up with him came more emotion, love, hate, joy, anger, and words than could be felt by anyone that had ever been around him. We were like fire and gasoline most of the time. He was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the hardest person to get along with that I had ever known, and yet, the easiest person to feel a kinship with ... inside our hearts, we were so much alike. I had hated and loved him, all at the same time, most of my life. I had been angry with him to the point of wanting to hit him, and to grab him and say “I love you” in the same moment.

Although I don't have many of his possessions, God in His wonderful way of showing us things, decided to leave me with traits and mannerisms that helped to make Daddy who he was. When I look in the mirror, I see him staring back at me as I look at my frame and manner of standing. And when I speak, I hear his voice. However, as I sit here opening up and releasing this part of my life, the tears in my eyes are mine.

Actually, I am glad to have this opportunity to get this out of my system. Sometimes, Even as Christians, we have to truly break down the walls of hurt so that God can get in there fix it. God will never force us to let Him in ... it is our choice. The Lord has had so many "messes" within me to clean up, but the Lord is always there to repair the damage. And He has.

For many years, I have struggled to grow as a person beneath the weight of my memories of a man called "Daddy". I can honestly say, at 42, that I love him. I can't wait to get to Heaven to see him so I can tell him face to face.

This writing is the best thing that I have ever done for myself ... and for him.

"For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you, with many tears, not that you should be grieved, but that you might know the love which I have so abundantly for you." - 2 Corinthians 2:4

I am finally a man.