Gone Too Soon

 

It was a Monday, just like today. Seventeen years ago today, to be exact. That was the last time I saw my father. He had been given four years to live after being diagnosed with leukemia; and he lived almost all of those four years after the diagnosis. But the end, though not a surprise, happened quickly and left little opportunity to say goodbye. He was hospitalized on Saturday and was gone by Monday. It seems like such a long time ago now. And it sometimes seems like he died too young. 

A lot of life has been lived by those of us left behind since my Dad died. He only got to attend one of his five grandchildren’s weddings. He never knew about any of his nine great-grandchildren. He would have freely given both his love and support to all of them. Dad never knew I was going to be a writer and a published author. He never got to see God using me as a speaker, or most of the adult adventures his grandchildren have had. He would have been so proud. He never walked with us through the health difficulties of the years since his passing. He would have prayed earnestly for us. 

Time does heal and memories fade . . . sometimes more than we’d like them to. But I’m reminded that only those left behind think about the things I’ve mentioned. The moment Dad breathed his last breath, he entered into the presence of his Lord and Savior. There was no more pain. There was no more sorrow. All of his ties to earth were gone in a split second. Dad instantly began experiencing a much greater joy than anything on earth could offer him. 

And for that reason, I could never wish that he was still here – stuck in time and under the curse that began in the garden with Adam and Eve. It may be all we can see as we continue our lives here, but Dad has a completely different perspective from his new home in heaven. His body was left behind seventeen years ago, but his spirit will live forever! 

I’ve reached the age where heaven is looking better and better all the time. But, as the old saying goes, I don’t want to be so heavenly minded that I’m no earthly good. This world may not be my permanent home, but it is my home for now. And with God’s grace I want to “finish well” like my Dad did . . . serving God by loving others and holding the things of this world loosely. I miss you, Dad; but I’m so thankful for the privilege of being your daughter and carrying on the legacy you and Mom modeled in our family. Well done, good and faithful servant!