In the past few months, there have been a number of deaths among extended family or friends. While in most cases it was expected, the death of someone you love is hard. Michele’s Uncle Donny died while only in his 50s, of cancer. My Uncle John came really close to death but thankfully is recovering. Someone I’ve known all my life as Aunt Lona, although not really my aunt but a distant relative by marriage, also died. Aunt Lona was in her 80s. Although I last saw her a very long time ago, I can still picture Aunt Lona, with her striking white hair, her piercing eyes, and her tanned face with its prominent cheekbones (she was part Native American). Staying at her house was an adventure in part because she lived in one of my favorite places in the world (Montana) near the entrance to Glacier National Park. I remember us reading the Kalispell, Montana newspaper to find stories about grizzly bears (I think my parents even subscribed to the newspaper for a while). In my mind’s eye she always wore an apron and was always busy about the kitchen.
Late last night my mother called us to tell us that a close friend, also in her 80s and someone whom I’ve known since I was a little kid, had died just a few hours before. Dorothy and her sister, Betty, never married and lived together all their lives. They were like aunts to us kids and they doted on us (and many others). I have so many happy memories of visiting them or staying at their house. Dorothy always wore dresses, while Betty prefered blouses and skirts. When talking about them with others who hadn’t met them yet, we sometimes referred to them as Dorothy Dress and Betty Blouse as a way of telling them apart. Dorothy and Betty lived to serve others. Dorothy did the cleaning while Betty took care of the cooking. They cared for countless visitors, never complaining, always happy to serve. Their house was a haven of good food, candies, toys for the kids, and other treats. I am very sad about her death but at the same time, glad that she is at rest, forever free from any more pain or suffering in her body, finally able to enjoy her heavenly reward. I wonder how her sister, Betty, will fare.
As I fell asleep last night, aside from the grief I felt at the news, the thought that was running through my mind was that death is part of life. We all have to face death. Those who put their faith in Jesus Christ have the promise of eternal life; death has no power over them any more. I was thinking, too, of Jesus’s promise that He has prepared a place for us with Him. “I am going there to prepare a place for you,” that’s what he told His disciples (John 14:2-4). I am comforted by this assurance. Nearly every day I think of my father, who died unexpectedly almost four years ago, as well as my maternal grandparents, all of whom are in their places that have been prepared for them, enjoying His presence.
