The holidays make loss sharper. The blade twists as the seats at the Thanksgiving table shrink. The head of the table sits empty and the end is graced by the preacher as he alone presides over dinner. The two patriarchs who filled those chairs–now gone to their heavenly reward.
And amid the feast and festivities, an ache remains. The frailty of life digs deep as a pointed reminder. We never know. When the time will be. How it will happen. Why it comes along sly at that particular appointed time and snatches those we love.
And I think back to last times. The last conversation. The last corny joke. Of which they were both famous for. The last hug. The last “I love you.“ The last time they sat in my blue wingbacks, knees turned toward each other, discussing sports, family, and deeper spiritual meanings.
And I miss my father-in-law’s way of commanding a room with his masterful storytelling and goofy humor. I miss his warm acceptance of me and the way he seemed to regard the things I said as important and worth heeding. His validation endeared him to me forever.
I miss my Dad calling me Doll. And telling me to stay out of trouble like I was sixteen again. He was ever proud of me and there was never any doubt that I was always his little girl. I could ever count on him no matter what I asked.
Spiritual giants in my eyes, they left a legacy of what commitment to God looked like. Both were leaders in the same church. Bobby worked tirelessly in the prison ministry and my Dad had sometimes up to five bible studies every week.
I still can’t believe they are both gone.
And my eyes mist as I re-read this excerpt from a seven-year-old post:
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Circa 2014–My Thankful List:
Mom still making the dressing.
Dad still cooking that bird.
Another year goes by without having to learn. My in-laws and my parents have celebrated dinner together for thirty years.
The close friendship, never wavering—
No jealousy and family tug-o-war goes on here.
The example of four Godly parents is invaluable.
My generation still watches,
As future generations inspect.
The traditional turkey and dressing. And my meager contribution: Twice-baked potatoes year after year. (Any attempts at change— shot down immediately.)
More food than we can eat in a time where many are hungry.
Devoured like we think it’s our last meal.
Second and third plates filled.
Stories fly.
Memories recounted.
Games played. With much competition and friendly ribbing—
A year reviewed.
Bonds renewed.
Anticipation of the future smells sweet.
Many thanks for health, prosperity, and a loving family.
Most thanks for a God who loves and blesses us through it all,
The joys, the dents, and especially the train wrecks.
Psalms 100:4-5 Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name. For the Lord is good and his love endures forever, his faithfulness continues through all generations.
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And this year I add Psalm 138 as a reminder of the road to follow in my path away from sorrow.
His promises are true,
His love unfailing,
His faithfulness unshaken,
His encouragement gives me strength to face a future with the void of loss. But He also gives me hope and a heart of thanksgiving as I learn to focus on the blessings surrounding me each day instead of the losses.
I give you thanks, O Lord, with all my heart;
I will sing your praises before the gods.
2 I bow before your holy Temple as I worship.
I praise your name for your unfailing love and faithfulness;
for your promises are backed
by all the honor of your name.
3 As soon as I pray, you answer me;
you encourage me by giving me strength.
Psalm 138:1-3