Death Takes More Than A Person

When I wrote my first novel, I had several family members cheering me on, but no one as much as my husband. And I don't think there was anyone prouder about my accomplishment. Almost immediately, Curt began asking me about my next story. He closely listened as I laid out the plot. His words of affirmation strengthened my fingers to fly over the keyboard on my laptop. When I received a book award in Florida in November 2019, I can still see Curt in the audience taking pictures and smiling broadly. Around May of last year, I read to him the first chapter of my third book. Again, he entered into the story and laughed at just the right places. I'm positive Curt never read a romance novel in his life, except my two books. Curt was a far more gifted person than I am, but he was fascinated by me.

Even before we were engaged to be married, I knew Curt loved picking on me or teasing with me. In the early years of our marriage, I disagreed with him about something in particular and told him that I thought we should do it another way. He glibly said that I was married now and didn't need to "think" anymore. To which I replied, "When I married you, I gave up my name, not my brain." He burst out laughing and then repeated the story to several of our family members and friends. Of the two of us, Curt had a much better sense of humor, but I delighted him. 

To show that when someone loses a loved one, they lose more than just a person, I shared these two precious memories. The loss is far more than just a person or a title. The loss is everything that person was to you. When the palliative care nurse turned to us and said, "He's gone," she wasn't just telling me that my husband was no longer on this earth. A marriage partner isn't the only thing I lost that morning. I lost exponentially more.

• husband
• father of my children
• grandfather of my grandchildren
• someone to cuddle with and keep me warm
• best friend
• confidante
• defender/protector
• prayer partner
• pastor
• Bible teacher
• someone to dream with
• provider
• travel companion and travel guide
• mower of our lawn
• snow removal person
• handyman
• comforter
• encourager
• driving partner
• date
• comedian (He was the best at making us all laugh and finding humor in things)
• walking encyclopedia (The man knew so much! He was better than Wikipedia!)
• theologian
• German-speaking partner (We often conversed in German.)
• etc. etc. etc.

No one has time to sit here and read all the things that I lost when Curt passed away four months ago. I'm sure I could continue adding to the list all day long and shed a thousand tears. The loss is mine, and I must bear it. Strangely, it's part of my loving Father's plan for me.

A dear friend sent me a book called The Ministry of Comfort by J.R. Miller. I want to share a small portion that especially blessed me this week:

"So it is only for a little while that God takes from us our loved ones. We shall have them back again, made into immortal beauty. The hopes we mourn as having perished, are yet in Christ's hands. He will keep them safe for us and at length will give them back to us in radiant and imperishable loveliness. ...One of the surprises of heaven, will be our finding there the precious hopes, joys, and dreams which seemed to have perished on earth—not left behind—but all carried forward and ready to be given into our hands the moment we get home."

~ J.R. Miller

Oh, how beautiful heaven will be. No more heartache or tears. No more disease or death. No more goodbyes. Instead, a happy reunion awaits us. And best of all, we will finally look into the eyes of the One who loves us most of all. Come, Lord Jesus. Please come soon and carry us home.

"Oh, I want to see Him, look upon His face,
There to sing forever of His saving grace;
On the streets of glory let me lift my voice,
Cares all past, home at last, ever to rejoice."

~ Rufus H. Cornelius, 1916


January 19, 2022