LIVING ANOTHER DAY
NOTE: Thank you to everyone for your support and encouragement over the past year. Linda’s celebration of life was a beautiful experience, with over three hundred people joining us, and hundreds more online. Wednesday (two days ago) marked one year since we learned of her diagnosis. Because of the busy-ness, and emotionally-draining events of this past week, here are some thoughts I penned shortly following Linda’s passing.
--------------------------------------------
I awoke in the night, and listened for her breathing, but I heard none. When I turned on the light, I discovered Linda had departed this world. It was an agonizing journey to watch her slowly wither away from ovarian cancer. During those months, words like “overwhelming… devastating… agonizing” passed through my lips, as I cried out to God. But one word I never uttered is “Hopeless.” Because I’m not…
His presence sustains us. During the darkest night of the soul, our Savior whispers, “I am with you.” When our heart aches so badly, we’re afraid it might explode, he calms us with his peace that transcends understanding. When we think we can’t survive another minute, and honestly…we don’t really want to, he gives us the strength to continue living. When we bury our head in our pillow, and sob so much that no more tears will flow, he weeps with us.
On some days that’s been my story. But—I say it again—I have never felt hopeless or abandoned. I live in the certainty that I will see Linda again, along with other dear friends that have entered—not the land of the dead—but the land of the living. They’re experiencing more life than any of us have ever known. With excitement, I anticipate great adventures ahead, shared with Linda and my friends. Nothing on earth could even remotely compare.
On the last night of her life, I sat by Linda’s bed, her emaciated body, barely clinging to life. I held her hand and laid my head on her arm, and played some of the songs we loved when we dated and were first married. I spoke of some special memories, and told her how deeply I loved her. Finally, I arose, kissed her forehead, and said “Goodbye.” But it really wasn’t “goodbye.” It was “see you later.” Because I will.
With unparalleled hope, I long for the day when I will pass through the portal into eternity. Linda will be there to greet me at heaven’s gates and say, “Hello,” knowing that never again will we say “Goodbye.” More than you can imagine, that hope sustains me. It gives me joy and strength—and a reason to live another day.