Today we buried my brother-in-law. Two and a half weeks ago his oldest daughter found him when she woke to get ready for work. He had suffered a stroke. The doctor used the word "catastrophic" to describe what happened to him. We, the family, collectively held our breath. First, there was the uncertainty of how extensive the damage was. He could not speak or care for himself. He did have a few lucid moments when he seemed to know what was going on and could respond to questions. As it became clear that Michael was not going to recover, we waited for the inevitable. His daughters, my mother and father-in-law, Kermit and other family kept vigil. Two weeks after his stroke, he died. And today he was laid to rest next to his wife and son.
This is the third family funeral that I have attended in two years time. Last September Michael's wife, Janet, lost her battle with breast cancer. The year before that my own dear grandmother passed on into eternity.
Passed on. Passed away. Such interesting expressions. Our loved ones are not lost to us. They've just taken the next step. Maybe this knowledge is the reason why I half expected to see my brother-in-law sitting up and smiling at us when we came in for the funeral. It is the same for me when I call Grandpa John. Sometimes I really think that Gramma will answer.
How very grateful I am for the Gospel. How very grateful I am for the wonderful Plan of Happiness. I know that we can be reunited with our loved ones. Families were meant to be eternal. How I love my family. I will miss those that have moved on. But what a joyful reunion.
Til we meet again.
