a trip to the cemetary

Today is July 8.  It is the third anniversary of my uncle Todd Mouw's dying day.  I am not one to visit cemetaries.....I don't tend to go to remember my loved ones....until today.  His widow, Cyndi reminded the family this morning that July 8 is the day he died and so it helped me think about him and remember him and more importantly, to remember his dying day.  In all of my life, and the lives of my children and husband, I believe we may never experience a dying day quite like the one Todd had.  It was beautiful and purposeful and intentional and tragic and sad and glorious......death was imminent for him and he was allowed to decide that July 8 was the imminent end.  He had countless visitors in his hospital room, including our entire family.  We sat with him, sang with him, prayed with him and heard scripture with him.  He told each of my children how much he loved them.  He called all of his friends who could not come to say good-bye and he had meaningful conversations with each of them.  He was able to tell them how much each of them meant to him and to say good-bye.  To. Each. of. Them.  In one phone conversation with a friend in California, he ended with "Ok Dwight, talk to you later....oh wait.....I guess I won't" and he laughed his special, silent laugh that held in his mouth while the ventilator breathed in and out for him and his eyes pinched shut and his head flew back.....oh my gosh do I miss him.  

Todd's dying day was special and important.....just like him.  God allowed him after decades in a wheelchair, with life spinning out of his control, to end the way he wanted to....to end with dignity and grace and strength and endurance and goodness and mercy, in Jesus Holy Name.  I pray that as I cry fresh tears, remembering my uncle Todd, that Holy Sprit would help me to live the way he died.  

I sat by his tombstone today in the heat of the day mid-afternoon, with the Iowa sun beating down on me, and the winds blowing like they so often do.....and as I looked beyond the cemetary to the fields and trees and blue sky with white clouds, I knew that this was the kind of day Todd liked best.  He loved to sit outside and let the sun warm his skin and he didn't care if he got sunburned because he couldn't feel it anyway.....skin cancer wasn't a threat because he knew he would die before it took him.  I layed on my back and took deep breaths, above where his casket lay....and I thanked God for his life.  I thanked Him for every day Todd got to breathe and that he shared his life with so many people.....and for what he meant to me.  Then I went through my voicemail and listened to all his messages from June of 2017.....he called me a lot.  We spoke often.  I heard his voice over and over and it helped me to remember that he is not gone.  He is still and will always be here....and in Heaven he is whole and he has a body that works and he is singing praises and worshipping day and night......and one day I will be there with him and we will worship together.  

Happy dying day, uncle Todd.  Because you knew Jesus, it was likely your best day ever because you left this world and moved on to the forever one where there is no pain, no tears, no suffering and no good-bye.  Save me a place at the table uncle, ok?  I'll get there too.