A Good Day in Heaven

A number of years ago Wes had heard a story from one of his favorite radio preachers, not sure which one it was because he had a few favorites, John MacArthur, Vernon MacGee and Charles Stanley were the top three.  Anyway, for some reason I knew he had probably kept it somewhere, he rarely threw anything away that he felt had an important message.  And when he really liked something he’d ask me to type it out for him so he could keep it or share it with someone who needed to hear that particular thought.   I did remember typing it out for him but I didn’t know where he had put it.  I was looking through all his stuff but unfortunately I couldn’t find it and I was so disappointed.  I even tried googling the story to try and find it but came up empty.  Then the next day I picked up his Bible and a piece of paper literally fell at my feet.  My mouth dropped open, it was the story.  I slowly unfolded the paper and read it again. 

There was an elderly gentleman whose wife had passed away.  He was standing with his son at his wife’s graveside; after everyone had left he turned to his son and asked if he could be alone with his wife for a moment.  His son walked back to the car to wait for his father and he watched as his father knelt down beside the grave speaking softly.  He gently ran his hand along the freshly shoveled dirt and slowly stood to his feet, wiping his eyes he walked back to stand beside his son. 

“I’m glad she died first” he said.  His son was a bit shocked at his father’s words when his father continued, “I never wanted her to feel the sadness and loneliness that I feel at this moment.” With a smile he put his arm around his son, “No tears in Heaven, remember?”

I understand this story much better than I ever did when I typed it out for Wes years ago.  As I continue to struggle through my grief I feel a thankfulness that Wes did not have to experience this heartache.  Although I also know that our family and friends who have been carrying me would also have lovingly carried him had our roles been reversed. 

Today I am struck once again by the enormity of the loss of my husband and best friend.  It seems as though it takes very little today to get the tears rolling.  I am reminded by my own thoughts that I am alone.  I’ve been struggling with the flu for the past few days and I’m sure that isn’t helping my emotional state because it has given me too much time to sit and think. So, when my oldest son messaged me to ask how I was feeling and then asked if I needed anything I broke down.  I knew that if I would ask him to come he would drive out from the city in a heartbeat.  Just the gesture alone touched my heart.

Later on in the afternoon I got to spend some unexpected alone time with my oldest granddaughter.  As we drove along she began talking from the back seat, reminiscing really.  She talked about what she remembered from the farm when she was a little girl and I smiled because she is still a little girl, but in her mind she’s very grown up.  So, she played the “Do you remember…?” game.

Then suddenly she stopped talking and in a very soft tone asked, “Do you remember the picture I drew for you mama?” 

Well, she’s drawn multiple pictures for me so I wasn’t sure which one she was talking about.  I hesitated so she continued.

“Don’t you remember Mama?  I drew you and Papa and Jesus!” 

I quietly confirmed that I knew which picture she was talking about as the tears came once again, ah yes, I remember that picture clearly.  It hangs on my fridge.  It’s Me, Papa and Jesus standing together in a box with one heart.  Quite poetic I think.

Our grand babies are working hard to grasp the reality of death and I am often in awe of their ability to articulate what they are feeling.  For such young ones they show an immense amount of self-awareness.  They have many good memories of their short time with Papa and they want to share them with me and though it may be the same memory or thought that they share over and over again that’s totally ok.  They want to know that it’s alright to keep talking about Papa and to remember their special times with him.  They are sharing more easily as time goes along and I believe it’s healthy for them to do so. 

The other day Tina told me that Blaique had prayed that Papa would have a good day in Heaven.  It got me to thinking, are the days different levels of ‘better’ in Heaven?  I have no idea; however, I have a feeling that because of that tender little prayer Papa might have had something extra special happen for him in Heaven that day.  

And it's that thought that finally gets me to smile!