The last time I saw my father was on my sixtieth birthday. We were at the international departures terminal at Detroit Metro airport.
My wife and I were heading back to Kenya to help Rev. James May and Lutherans In Africa with the winter semester at the Lutheran School of Theology .
My father wanted to be the one to send us off.
During the afternoon drive to the airport we relived the joy of my son’s wedding that we just celebrated days before. He and I officiated.
At the reception, my parents were honored as the longest married couple, 61 years together. One last time they danced to their song, Moon River.
Two drifters off to see the world
There’s such a lot of world to see
We’re after the same rainbow’s end
Waiting ’round the bend
My huckleberry friend
Moon River and me.
They were “huckelberry friends”.
As we drove, he reminisced about our days as a missionaries in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea.
He told stories of his long hikes at altitude to mission stations in the Pogera, our family’s sole reliance on the Lord’s gifts during times of sickness and hardship, and the Lord’s promised and exceedingly abundant work through His Word.
As we approached Detroit Metro Airport, he laughed at the fact that I, the one who despises flying because of my experiences with the one engine Cessna missionary planes in PNG, was about to get on a plane to Africa.
I fake laughed.
And then we agreed that the Lord has a way of giving all gifts needed for the sake of the Gospel.
As we pulled up to international departures, he pledged his commitment to pray for us. After we loaded our seven bags onto carts, he embraced us, and we commended each other into the hands of the Triune God.
That was my last memory of him … seasoned missionary sending novice missionary off to Africa.
Life at the Speed of Grief
One month later and it’s all been a blur.
I suppose that’s what life is like at the speed of grief.
- WhatsApp message from family that Dad had slipped on the ice after church, rushed to the ER, news of a broken femur above the knee
- surgery was delayed for a number of days, but finally scheduled, some complications with heart rate during surgery, but all is now well
- starting physical therapy but trouble with breathing and heart rate, procedure scheduled to clear some clotting in the lungs, “no worries, he’ll feel so much better afterward”
- WhatsApp message in the middle of the night … Dad’s heart failed during the procedure
We scrambled to change our return flights to the United States and traveled the 30 hours from Nairobi to Detroit.
We landed at the last place that I saw him.
We drove the quiet ride to my childhood home and walked into the house for the first time. His Lazy Boy chair was empty. Instead, the house was filled with memories and the hard hitting reality of a life now lived without him.
We gathered with family, planned the funeral service, I wrote his obituary, we had a one day visitation at the funeral home, we celebrated the promise of the resurrection the next day.
Some moments I’m transported back to wonderful days full of sacred memories.
… family vacations on the shores of Lake Michigan, fishing trips for Walleye in Northern Ontario, grandkids’ Christmas at the local bowling alley, white envelopes with your name written on them that he would fill with a little spending money, his dancing with Mom, the tone of his voice when he would say “whoa baby” or “oh boy” or “I have some chas’n to do”, conversations about the latest K-Drama he was watching, texts and phone calls about nothing … and about everything.
Those memories are a gift and a time portal that bring you back to the days that were once lived fully, but can’t be relived or visited again. I wish I could find a way to return and stay and dwell in them one more time.
Other parts of the day I slog through the post mortem details of life. This is the weight that falls on the branches of the next generation once the patriarchal limbs of the family tree drop a level.
… death certificates, bills that need to be paid, insurance that needs to be claimed, pensions and social security benefits changed, taxes prepared, documents found and filed, phone calls notifying utilities and credit cards that his name should no longer be on the accounts …
… only, my mother’s name.
Suffering’s Sacred Work and Gifts
I’m learning that grief, and loss, and suffering do a sacred work and bring a sacred gift.
First, suffering reveals your “gods” (the false ones).
It shines the light and exposes what you really fear, love, and trust in above all things. And if what you hope in is not the Triune God, the suffering cuts the legs and arms and mouth and ears out of any idols that your heart clings to or calls upon.
Second, suffering reveals the Triune God (the Only and True One).
His light shines in the darkness, the black hole of death and the tomb, and reveals who He really is. I have come to know, experience, and believe that the Triune God holds nothing back from us. He gives Himself completely to us.
- The Father gives us all of His creation – life, breath, daily bread.
- The Son gives to us all of His work – forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation.
- And the Holy Spirit gives to us all of His gifts – faith, hope, and love.
Those gifts are ever present for our family and yours!
My Father’s Funeral Message
Below is the funeral sermon that I preached for my father.
It was something I “had” to do, and at the same time, something that I “couldn’t not do”. To be honest, I don’t remember much of what I said, and so I’m grateful to have the video recording and the notes that I used.
The recording abruptly cuts out toward the end, but the majority of the message was captured. For reference, I’ve added my notes so that you (and I) can see the totality of what I tried to say.
You can access them here (PDF).
Also, here’s a picture of the village idol (the “little man”) that I referenced in the message.
On behalf of my family, I thank you for your kindness, prayers, many words and sacred memories that you shared about my father and the Lord’s work through the ministry of the Gospel. It was a joy to hear how the living and active Word that he proclaimed diagnosed your sin and delivered the healing medicine of the Gospel.
The Lord is risen. He is risen indeed!
Alleluia and Amen!
Paul
To learn more about our work in Africa, sign up for email updates, access all of our teaching resources, and financially support the Missionary at Large position through East Bethlehem Lutheran Church in Detroit, you can go to the all links and resources page (here).