I Hate Death

I hate everything about death. It's ugly. I don't know of a better word. At least that's my earthly, selfish perspective. I know I must take these thoughts captive. In reality, death is a passing from this life to real life. At least it is for the believer. But from where I sit, death brings grief. Sure, it's not grief without hope, but it's grief nonetheless.

Last night my great Aunt Verna died in her sleep. I'm thankful that she died this way, but I hate that she died. She's gone. And for our family, she is the last of a generation on my mom's side to die. I feel like we've lost touch with that generation. My kids will never know about my memories, except for the stories I tell. They will never know sitting in her kitchen while she cooked tapioca on the stove. They won't know how she made sun tea or the little boxes of cereal she always had to offer us for breakfast. They won't know sitting beside her at her organ or hearing about her travels with Uncle Joe. They won't know the warmth of her home. Those days are gone.

The same is true with both of my grandparents on my mom's side. In the past five years both grandparents and both Uncle Joe and Aunt Verna have died. It's been a time of grief for us.

I'm thankful for the hope we have that each of them put their faith in Christ alone as their savior. We grieve with this hope in mind. But we still grieve. It's especially hard for mom as Aunt Verna was like a second mom to her. She and Uncle Joe were like grandparents to us. I thought this was normal growing up. I thought everyone had a "Uncle Joe & Aunt Verna." But we had something special, and I was too old before I really recognized this. So for me there are regrets. I'm thankful for the times I had with them, but I wish I had treasure them more. The visits in the summer, the rides on the tandem bike, flying kites, birthday cards and visits when they came to our house.

Death is a part of life. It has become more a part of my life in recent years. In the past two weeks alone my great Aunt died, my friend lost his good friend Dustin (who left a wife and three young children), my sister and brother-in-law's friends lost their three-year-old daughter in her sleep, another friend of mine lost his son who was killed by a drunk driver. The separation that results causes a break in life. It changes life. But in as much as it focuses my thoughts on the effect of sin in this world, it ultimately points me to Christ and what He did to conquer death. Death's sting is gone. It still stings, but the eternal sting is removed. The sting is only temporary. As a believer I know there will be a reuniting. This is not the end.

Still I hate what death does to us. It divides us. It scares us. It hurts us. But still, in the midst of all of this, it points us to our dependence on Christ. Even when we hurt, we are strengthened by Christ's presence with us here. How terrible it would be to not know His presence in this grief. Emptyness would prevail.

Emptyness does not prevail though, for me. Not because of any good thought or act of mine. Emptyness is there because I'm human. I can no longer talk with Aunt Verna, Uncle Joe, my grandparents or Aunt Tommae. They're all gone. A piece of my life is gone. But my life is not emptied because of their death. The holes they left are ministered to by the grace of Christ through His Spirit.

So when I see an organ, a box of tapioca or a miniature box of cereal, an owl, or even a woven purse I will think of Aunt Verna. I will thank God for the life she lived in faith, for the ways she gave, for the love she shared. But thanks to God she now lives to the fullest with her faith now made complete, she has now been given everything she needs and she now shares the greatest love with her Heavenly Father completely. Aunt Verna, because of your faith in Christ, enjoy your reward!