It is now two years since my father passed away. He struggled with cancer as good as he could, but finally lost the fight. Even though, we were all hoping for a miracle, the end did not come as a surprise for us. And even though he did not survive, we have little to complain. He died in peace, he was able to say goodbye to his loved ones, he basically had only three bad days. (Four days before he passed away, he was still driving his car like nothing happened.) Yes, the timing could have been better. But to be fair, can the death of a loved one ever be perfectly timed?
When my grandma passed away, it came as a total surprise for us children. She had a tumor in her brain, we knew that. But she was fine. So it hit me out of nowhere, when the phone rang and my mom answered just to start crying. She took us kids and went to see her mother in law. There we met my dad, who had been with his mom that day. And there she was. Laying on a couch with her hands folded on her chest. Dressed in a nice dress, with her pearl necklace and the matching earrings. Peacefully resting, as if she were asleep. As a child that didn’t strike me as odd. I later found out, that she must have known, she was leaving this earth. She said goodbye to her son, got the nice jewelry and, instead of taking a nap in her bed, laid down under an image of our family, her only living relatives. There she peacefully fell asleep, never to wake up again. Sure, the timing was wrong. But since then, over three decades have passed and I still love this story.
Ever since my dad visited Israel in his mid twenties, he loved the Jews and everything related to them. And the Jews have a very distinct way of mourning loved ones. A part of that is shiva. The immediate family of of the deceased stay at home for seven days, right after the funeral. Friends and extended family shows up to care for them. It’s a time of mourning, praying, and remembering. We managed to do something similar. The day after my dad had passed during the night, almost all his children gathered in my parents home. Some stayed only a few days, some a few weeks. Friends of my parents came to bring food or to help otherwise. Despite the occasion, it was a wonderful time. We prepared different things for the memorial service and spent time with each other. We talked a lot about my dad and what he meant for us. It was the perfect way to say goodbye. I strongly recommend it.
I had a hard time dealing with my dad’s illness. I struggled with unfulfilled potential. I was convinced, my dad could have had a much bigger impact on the world around him. In that time, God spoke to me. And He asked me a simple question. Wouldn’t it be enough for him, just to be your dad? I knew the answer was yes. Every impact his children have, they have, because he was our dad. So the fact, that God is using me from time to time, is all thanks to my father. But, man, did I want to shout NO! I was convinced, secondary impact was not enough. But I trusted God and stopped complaining.
My dad had two memorial services. Seventeen years ago my parents moved a couple of hundred miles away, so he had a services in his church at home and one in the city he lived most of his live. I couldn’t attend the first one. But I was somewhat (positively) shocked, when I heard, that nearly 150 people showed up. The local synagogue even sent a delegation to honor my father. (He had been attending their services as a visitor for a long time. But since he wasn’t a Jew, he never became a member.) The second service was no difference. Again 150 people. Not even the same. (One couple went to both services. It was that important to them.) The time was filled with thankfulness to God for my dad’s life and all the good that came through him. God’s presence was so tangible, that even non-christians were drawn in. And God used that opportunity to show me, how wrong I had been. Just because I didn’t see the impact my father had, didn’t mean it was not there. And it must have been big enough for all those people to come to the service.
Just a few weeks later a friend of mine lost her battle with cancer as well. And her husband was confronted with the same question that had bugged me. Was the fruit enough? But he answered with a resounding NO. She died prematurely and someone was to blame. I don’t want to go into details, but it was awful. The memorial service turned into the worst service I have ever been to. (And that, unfortunately, says a lot.) That ship ran full throttle into the iceberg, even though I tried my best to change its course. But I was powerless, even though I was leading the service. Everyone came to honor her and the things she had accomplished in life (which were many). But her husband was looking for someone to blame. And he found a room full of suspects. A lot of people left, before the service was over. They refused to take part in this blame game. And for the actual funeral the next day, hardly anyone but family came.
We have to ask ourselves, when Jesus is the Lord of our lives, do we also let Him be Lord of our death? Do we allow Him to choose our last day? How about those of loved ones? In all of that, I learned two lessons. We have to choose, if we want to see the passing of a loved one with thankfulness or regret. We can either be thankful for the life and the time we spent together, or we can regret, what we see as missed opportunities. The truth is, we will never live to our potential. We all will leave unfinished business. It’s a fallen world after all. But when we focus on that, we don’t allow God to choose, when to take us home. And letting be our Lord must include that as well. And when someone leaves us, let’s get together to celebrate their life and thank God for all the potential, that did not remain unused. And spend as much time doing it as possible.
