And another...
A dear friend's father passed away yesterday; he was a contemporary of Geneva's, and one she knew well. I will take her to the viewing late this afternoon, then go again this evening with Ted. Tomorrow morning will be the funeral, and I will attend that as well.
So many funerals, so little time.
•••
I'm not obsessed with death, but I am very mindful of it. Always have been--even I though I didn't experience it firsthand until I was a young adult--probably because one of my childhood memories: I was playing outside, when a pickup truck drove by (I remember it vividly) and the driver yelled, "Your daddy's gonna die!" As an undercover narc, Dad had a lot of enemies, and it seemed that the specter of death was always in the background. For good reason, because it always is, even if your job is an innocuous desk job.
I read the obituaries. I find it interesting to see how people are remembered. With the advent of the new cemeteries that don't allow much individualization of headstones, the obituary is often the last mark a person might leave on this earth. I'm amazed that some obits are full of life while others are full of death. Some are sorrowful while others are joyous in the midst of sorrow.
•••
The difference is the Lord. Isn't that true of virtually everything? LITERALLY everything!
•••
Precious In His Sight
In our sorrow there is comfort,
Tears of anguish bring release;
Though we grieve, our hopes are strengthened;
In our loss, Lord we find this peace.
From our birth, our days are numbered;
Though we flourish, soon we die
But with this, our hope, to waken
Face to face with the risen Christ!
Another race is finished,
A burden is laid down,
The gate of heaven opens to the Sun!
How precious in Your sight, O Lord,
Is the death of a godly one.
So many funerals, so little time.
•••
I'm not obsessed with death, but I am very mindful of it. Always have been--even I though I didn't experience it firsthand until I was a young adult--probably because one of my childhood memories: I was playing outside, when a pickup truck drove by (I remember it vividly) and the driver yelled, "Your daddy's gonna die!" As an undercover narc, Dad had a lot of enemies, and it seemed that the specter of death was always in the background. For good reason, because it always is, even if your job is an innocuous desk job.
I read the obituaries. I find it interesting to see how people are remembered. With the advent of the new cemeteries that don't allow much individualization of headstones, the obituary is often the last mark a person might leave on this earth. I'm amazed that some obits are full of life while others are full of death. Some are sorrowful while others are joyous in the midst of sorrow.
•••
The difference is the Lord. Isn't that true of virtually everything? LITERALLY everything!
•••
Precious In His Sight
In our sorrow there is comfort,
Tears of anguish bring release;
Though we grieve, our hopes are strengthened;
In our loss, Lord we find this peace.
From our birth, our days are numbered;
Though we flourish, soon we die
But with this, our hope, to waken
Face to face with the risen Christ!
Another race is finished,
A burden is laid down,
The gate of heaven opens to the Sun!
How precious in Your sight, O Lord,
Is the death of a godly one.
How frightening the visual that was placed in your mind as a child! Didn't know that about your dad's career.
One of our members works in the narc division but not undercover, though I think he did at one time, but here at the UPS hub checking packages for drugs.
I'm sorry for the loss of your friend's father, and for that scary childhood memory.
Years later when my husband was a cop in the same town, my life was threatened a time or two. We took precautions and nothing ever happened. I can also remember walking down the street (this was our hometown, mind you) and having people make pig calls out their windows at me. I don't miss those days at all!
Amen.