We sat with him for a few silent moments. After a few more stories, we cried and hugged him - shared a blessing or two - and felt it was time to say our final good-bye. More tears and sobbing followed in the car and I trust they will until this season of grieving is complete. At home, Lucie hugged us and snuggled on the sofa before running to find a used tissue to devour. In a short time we're going to a Mexican eatery in honor of Casey the Desert Dog: we're calling it Casey's Retirement Party.
Three odd thoughts are wandering through my head:
+ All morning I've been thinking of two passages of scripture. "We do not grieve as those without hope." (I Thessalonians 4: 13-18) One of my colleagues spoke these words to me after my sister's death this summer. And while I know the great apostle was speaking about people of faith, I choose to believe that all who live and die in love are of the Lord - especially those without sin like animals. In this, although very much in the Reformed tradition, I am a Franciscan at heart.
+ The other passage is from Revelations 21: "God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and
+ And then this totally random notion after watching two young guitar players at our jazz gig last night. Both are talented young players: one is VERY practiced, the other more laid back; one is being pushed obsessively to succeed by his father, the other comes from a family that is more chill; one seems driven, the other appears to be having fun. Given the shortness of life - human, winged, swimming or four-legged - I wanted to say: be gentle with your, kid, man and let him be a child - back the f***off - and let the guy find his own groove. But I didn't. This Lent I'm trying to practice shutting up and letting people find things out on their own - but it still broke my heart.
So these are broken-hearted times... and I give thanks for the love that leads to this type of brokenness.
2 comments:
Casey might be playing with Sheba even now... He is free.
I trust that he is, Peter: thank you.
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