There is no more serious or sobering topic than death and dying. My mother used to say that we come into this world alone and we leave alone…; ironically, this truth is one of the greatest mysteries of life. In the book of Ecclesiastes, King Solomon tells us that there is a time to be born and a time to die. As far as we know, no one has ever come back from the dead, except for the examples given in the Bible, and most importantly, the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I remember when I was in university studying for my nursing degree, many years ago, and we were required to read the ground-breaking book by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross: On Death and Dying. She describes the five stages of grief as denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Most of us have experienced the loss of a loved one, usually by the time we enter adulthood, and are well acquainted with this process. It is very true that grief does not occur in a straight line, but, rather, we zig-zag back and forth until we are hopefully able to accept the loss and begin to move on with our lives. Sometimes we get stuck and never really progress to a state of acceptance and being okay with not having that person in our life.
As a very young child, I vaguely remember attending my grandfather’s funeral in the Wesleyan church just across the road from our farmhouse. The many mourners filed up to the front of the church, past Grampy’s open casket, where he looked like my grampy, but for some strange reason, he had coins on his closed eyelids…the year would have been 1959. That image has stayed with me for all of these years and was my first brush with death, although my grandmother predeceased him by a few months and I have no memory of that.
Since then, as the youngest child in our family by 20 years, I have had more than my fair share of loss to deal with. First it was my father, when I was just 32 years old; then my oldest brother, Gregg, when I was 36; my beloved mother passed when I was 40, and my second eldest brother, David, when I was 53. By 2009, I was the last surviving member of my birth family, and the matriarch of my own family. We had been a very close family, and that was a very lonely feeling indeed. The premature loss of our loved ones can be an unfortunate byproduct of being the last child born to older parents, and it is often unavoidable. I am so very grateful that I have my own two adult children and their partners, two beautiful grandchildren, as well as two adult nephews and one niece. And last but not least, my loving husband, Paul! Thank God for second chances.
Unexpected loss is especially hard to deal with, and one of the worst deaths to accept is the death of a baby or child, even a miscarriage. I have experienced this intense grieving myself. There are often no easy answers, and it always seems so senseless and cruel. When my oldest brother died from cancer, at the age of 59, my mom took it very hard, and never really recovered. It seems that the age of the child does not matter; they will always be our child. Yet, as Christians, we know that God is always in control. We have the assurance that when we die, we will immediately go to be with our Lord Jesus Christ, who now sits at the right hand of God, our heavenly father. All young children who have passed go to be with God, and adults who are saved in Jesus Christ will also go directly into His arms upon death. In Heaven, I believe that we will finally be reunited with our saved loved ones when we die. What a big celebration that will be!
My young grandson, Jeremy, is now six years old, and I have tried to explain the concept of Heaven to him. Jeremy loves Jesus, and asked me one day, “Grammie, when I die, can I go to Heaven and live with you in your house?” I told him that I was sure that could happen, and I reassured him that I would be waiting up there for him. Despite the separation and pain of death, we always have a blessed hope in Jesus!
