No More Pain

Two weeks ago today my Poppa was taken up by His Lord and Savior. He went suddenly and quickly. Three small gasps as he followed a nurse's instructions to roll on his side and he was gone from this horrible world.

April 17, 2013 will be a date I never forget. That day I lost one of the dearest men in my life.

I knew it was coming. Eventually. No matter how many times you tell yourself, though, you are never prepared for the actual loss when it happens. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that he hadn't recognized me the last few times I'd visited, but it brought no comfort at all. Even though he didn't recognize me on his own, he still knew me and loved me. He was still here. I could hear his voice and see him dozing in his chair and see his excitement about something as simple as a peanut M&M. His prayers never wavered. It took him longer to say the words, but they were still as heartfelt as ever. Always thanking our King for His provision, requesting His blessing on loved ones and asking His forgiveness for a stubbornly sinful people.

Several prayer requests had been graciously answered in the way Poppa was taken up. First, he never forgot his wife. She was "Momma" till the end and thus one of her greatest fears never materialized. Praise the Lord! Another was that he never grew violent. This is hard to write because I could never imagine him being that in the first place, but also because I knew it was a distinct possibility the more time that passed. The more his mind as it was began to change. He was never officially diagnosed with Alzheimer's that I'm aware of, but one of his sisters died from it so it's not a far stretch to determine that was likely what ailed him. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that she did grow violent and it was ugly. We are all praising God that Poppa never reached that point. Another specific fear of Gran's that never materialized. I didn't know this one till later, but she also feared that he would die at home. God was gracious in that, too. Poppa went to the hospital that day for what turned out to be a kidney infection. They were all confident that he would heal and be fine, but a third prayer was answered. There were others, I'm sure, but these are the main ones that Gran shared with me.

Poppa was 88 years old and had been Gran's husband for almost 67 years.

It's going to be weird not having him around when it comes time to celebrate our birthdays.

Just like it feels wrong to be speaking of him in the past tense.

My dear, dear Poppa. I miss you so much. It hurts.

But, despite my pain, I'm so very glad that you're not in pain anymore. You can see and hear clearly. There is no color blindness, memory loss or lack of recognition. No more weakness or fear of falling.

No more pain.

For that, I praise God with thankfulness that you are His.