Dying and Death...

My Mom passed away last night. She died peacefully at the care facility. Several family members were with her just hours before her passing. I am relieved that mom has gone home. It was her request not to have any heroic measures taken and upon death, to be cremated.

While this loss is foremost in my mind I want to talk a little about dying and death and funerals and such. Before I decided to place my trust in Jesus as my Savior, I spent decades living with no assurances and no hope. I went to funerals where the majority, if not all of the attendees, were just as lost as I was. We would console each other, genuinely caring that one of our close friends had lost a loved one, and often cry and grieve the loss. There were any number of nice gestures. Once, at the funeral of a woman who was killed in an automobile accident, we were all given helium balloons. And at the proper moment we released them in unison and all watched them go skyward in a kind of quiet pensive moment. This kind of activity was followed by reassurances of the dearly departed being in a better place. Being in a better place!! What in the world does that mean, I thought? And how do you know it's true? Well, we were making it up as we went. No one ever talked about the Biblical notion of Ultimate Justice. Several, mostly women, thought that we come back and do this again. Ugh!! Do this again? Oh yes, they would say, several times, until we get it right. Get it right? Get what right? Live a perfect life? Not this guy. You could give me a thousand lives, and once I began I would chuck the whole notion of living a perfect life and save it for the next time.

Because I did not want to dwell on dying, and because the very topic made me uncomfortable I didn't spend much time engaged in these conversations. I read a bumper sticker one day that became my motto. It said, "since I gave up hope I feel much better." I thought to myself. Just get over it, there is no hope and people who think there is are delusional. So give up and live for the moment. And living for the moment seemed to work best. I kept the nagging emptiness at bay with distractions and future plans. As long as I had a vacation coming up, or a new purchase, or a new interest, I could go along quite nicely. I tried to ignore the age lines in my face and my sagging gut. I consoled myself with thoughts of selfishness and pride. And in the end, the emptiness was still there. Someday I was going to die and I was getting tired of pinning my hopes on the next new truck or the next vacation. They all fell short of my expectations and left me wanting