Saying Goodbye

As an avid reader of our chef’s daily blog, I was struck by his entry for today when he described the difficulty in saying goodbye and letting go. But not for the obvious reasons even though as the father of 15 and 12 year-old sons I can truly empathise. You see my sister phoned me at lunchtime today to tell me that my aunt had died. She was 82, hadn’t really been well for some time having fallen and broken her hip at Christmas, hadn’t really recovered from the death of my uncle a few years ago and was showing the first signs of dementia. So one part of me thinks release, not just for my aunt but for my cousin, who had virtually given up his own life over the last few months to faithfully serve his mother beyond the call of duty. But the other part issued soft sighs throughout the day as my mind returned to Christmases past and laughing parents, aunties, uncles and nannas of which only my mum now remains; of that look and set of mannerisms she had through which I could see my dad, her big brother, so clearly. Of the laughs we had, the amount she loved my children, of the good Christian woman she was. And therein lies the great comfort for I’m convinced the welcomes and greetings were going on up above well through last night. Funny enough, the last thing I read last night was Dave Branon’s entry in Our Daily Bread when he talks about the loss of his daughter Melissa (and how hard must that have been) and writes "What a grand comfort to know that our departed loved ones who have trusted in Jesus are now living in God’s majestic kingdom!"  And it is, but it’s still hard to let go.

Having seen my aunt alot during her stay in hospital after Christmas, I hadn’t seen her for several weeks over the summer. On Sunday I had an irresistable urge to take my mum down to see her. Little did I know when we said goodbye…..

Justcoffeeforme