It was the first day of November. Dad was on a gurney—heavily medicated—and on his way to the nursing home.
She looked at him.
“I’ll be there soon.”
I swallowed tears then walked quickly to the bathroom with the sink running to allow myself about a minute to sob.
Because I knew.
I didn’t say it—but I knew. Mom was too sick to go visit Dad. My parents would never see each other again.
Forty years of an imperfect marriage. One that taught me a lot about peservering and loving through the hard.
And that was it.
And the very next day, he died. I held the phone to his ear as Mom said goodbye on the other end, only hours before he left us.
Life feels fickle sometimes. It feels unfair when things don’t go according to what seems like the most reasonable plan. The least painful one, at least.
Because let’s be honest.
What good is there in painful goodbyes? Why do we have to say them? Or what about when we don’t even get to say goodbye?
I’m mourning both my parents. Others mourn spouses and children. Still others are walking through their own hard stuff.
Myself—I’ve been numb for weeks but slowly the reality is hitting. And it’s a hard truth.
Despite all of that, I believe in God’s promises. I believe that this season will change.
I believe that the time to mourn will soon become a time to dance. And I can’t dance, but you better believe I WILL.
If you are hurting tonight, please know the season of pain and growth will soon bloom into a new life.
And when I think past my own grief—I suddenly remember that my parents are in a new life now. A better one.
Looking back, I now know that mom was telling the truth back on November 1st when she told him she’d see him soon.
Maybe she was looking into eternity.
Originally appeared on Meg Duncan – What a Life
You may also like: