Death, you old friend

     Death is something I haven't thought about in years. It surrounds us, is all around us, and waits for us at the end of our own lives, but until it penetrates the bubble we've created to shield ourselves from the realities of living in a broken world, death is only an afterthought. Even for me, whose job it is to bring death upon the enemies of my nation, and risk death myself in doing so. That was me, until a week ago today, when my Uncle died. We knew this day would come, ever since that fateful phone call- I still remember mom, years ago, crying as she spoke with him on the phone. The doctors had found brain cancer. It was a miracle that he fought on this long, with such a high quality of life, too. What a gift it was, to see him for many years, suffering as if he was in perfect health, never once complaining or even mentioning his ill fate. He never ran from the future that awaited him; conversely, he embraced it, and lived life to the ultimate fullest, even right up till the end, where his body and mind slowly ceased to function. 


I was able to see him four days before he entered into Paradise, and even though he was unaware of my presence in that hospital room on a chilly Minnesota morning in the springtime, it was an unexpected gift to me. Being able to see my cousins, specifically my two male cousins, weep, kiss, and embrace their comatose father one last time before they had to fly out of town was an experience I'll never forget, and as painful as it was, I would not trade it for anything. With assurance that they will take to their own graves, they each told him, "It's OK dad. It's OK to go now, you don't need to hang on any longer, we'll take care of mom and the family. I can't wait to see you again, this time without the pain and the cancer and the chemo. We'll see you again in just a few short years." 


Or even to watch his wife, bending over his hospital bed as he slept, so swollen and bruised as the cancer began its final victory over his body, knowing he would never hear her words again, knowing they'd never share another meal, or embrace in the sunlight, or babysit their myriad grandchildren, or serve together at church, or clean a freshly killed deer: "Thank you, dear. Thanks for everything. I love you so much, it's been an incredible journey with you. Thank you." 


I haven't wept this much since I was a little child, as the emotions hit home in ways I never expected. He was like a father to me, taking the place of his brother, who left the picture many, many years ago. In fact, he was a father to me. I have known no greater man that has lived, and if I can look back on my life, when I get to his age, and if I can see that I am half the man he was and is, I will be so, so satisfied. He was larger than life, a man whom I am so blessed to have known, and leaves behind such a legacy that it will take years to fully realize his impact, now that he's gone. 


Being the reading comprehension guy that I am, it's far easier to write down my feelings than it is to verbalize them. I was only able to kiss him goodbye, as my tears fell upon his aged face, skin feeling like sandpaper, with a heartfelt "I'll see you later" being the only words I could muster. The day he died, this is what I was able to finally put on paper:


Goodbye, sir, until we meet again. You, upon arrival into Heaven this morning, it was said, "Of whom the world was not worthy", and "Well done, good and faithful servant." You, who taught me how to be a man. You, who had the most profound effect upon my young life, who loved me like another son, who showed me what love really looks like. You, who represented Christ in a deep Minnesotan accent. I now win awards in the Army because you took the time to show me how to shoot a gun. I began a landscaping empire because you gave me my first truck while I was still in high school. You showed me how to be a husband and a father. You taught me that it's OK for a man to cry and show his family he loves them. You were a man that the enemy feared, a grandpa treasured by many grand kids, adored by your wife of many years, loved and respected by your kids, and us... my sisters and I are eternally indebted to how you took the place of a father in our lives. A phone call at the right time, the way you would never let us leave without a hug, all the laughter, the jokes, the tears, the conversations, the hunting and fishing together, even walking one of my sisters down the aisle- these memories will never fade from view. You inspire me to stay hungry for God, to love deeply, to take a stand and never back down, to be all that I was created to be. I love you, I love that I am related to you, and that I can proudly imitate the life you lived. Goodbye, sir, until we meet again.