Swimming in Fog
by Eric
The fog is thick this morning. Both outside, creating a colorless, gray morning, and inside our home casting a misty veil among the rooms. One close to us has passed through the veil this past weekend.
My father-in-law left this world after several years of battle. He fought the war with Alzheimer disease, with heart issues and strokes, giving in after almost 87 years. Though not unexpected, the grief and mourning have been going on for sometime now, the moment it happens, the moment the soul leaves the body is still a shock to those left behind.
As I sip the green tea in my Puccini mug from the Met, the steam rises, warms my nose, and fogs my glasses while I consider this death. This is the first death of someone close that my children with have to deal with and I ponder this situation remembering when my own paternal grandmother died when I was ten. How did I react? What did I feel? The only thing that stands out was that we missed going to the Dodgers baseball game that evening.
I wonder how my two will feel when we talk about it this evening. What will go on in a six year old’s mind when she hears that Papa, whom she has known little of, has gone to live with God? What will a grandson, who was the true apple of his Papa’s eye, think when the news is broken to him.
All I can ask for is the grace and wisdom of God that I might have the words that these little ones (and us big ones) need to hear.
As I turn to my right I see out the study window that the fog is beginning to lift. The sun’s rays peek through the shroud to show us that hope and love is still here.
____________________
This post is part of L.L. Barkat’s On, In, and Around Mondays (though the post doesn’t have to be posted on a Monday. You can visit her at Seedlings in Stone to read her posts as well as others participating in On, In, and Around.
My oldest son was 7 when my ftaher died. There are ways to explain it, but none of them are adequate, really. It’s hard enough for adults, even though we intellectually understand that dying is part of life. The important thing is to be there for your kids – just be there.
I was was and it went well. Thanks so much for your thoughts, Glynn. Here and now and those from the past year or so. You are much appreciated.
I’m so sorry. We lost a loved one just before Christmas. The funeral was on my birthday. I tried to explain as best I could to my little ones (ages 6 and 7). They made pictures for me to give to Grampy Terry when I flew out for the services. They know all the right words, but don’t understand. Of course, I’m the same way. I know we should be rejoicing and that wishing him back is selfish, but … Oh, it hurts still.
Praying for you and yours now.
Thank you, Tanya. Both kids, I felt, understood much more about what had happened than they were able to express. Thanks for the prayers as well.
Yes. Just be there. And put your trust in the bigger story, rather than the painful, awkward strings of words. The story will come together later. Thankful to find your voice here today. Blessings.
“…the bigger story…” That’s what it’s truly about. The story comes together through those painful and awkward words (how much this says beyond this situation!). Thanks for stopping by Matthew.
i think that children have better words for this than adults do…
And many times they do. The six year says to me, “So, Papa went to live with Jesus and God forever?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“That’s good,” was her answer.
Yes. It is very good.
Thank you Nance for coming by and for your words.
I am sorry for your family’s loss, Eric, and offer my deepest and heart-felt sympathies.
My son was barely two when my father died, suddenly and in front of us. His own resiliency taught me a great deal about the grace of acceptance, how the life of those we lose continues in those who come after us. Love is there; it gets carried in the heart of the one who leaves us physically and never leaves the hearts of those left behind.
Thank you for sharing Maureen. Your words are a comfort to me and to darling wife. You are much appreciated here.