They all wept as they embraced him and kissed him. What grieved them the most was the statement that they would never see his face again. Then they accompanied him to the ship. Acts 26:37-38
“Good-bye, Dad,” I said. “I love you”. I blew a kiss in the direction of my I-Phone screen. His gnarled hand, lined with blue veins, reached out for it.
“Love you, Linda,” he mumbled. Despite the dementia that had been stealing my father away from me one piece at a time, there was joy in knowing that he still recognized me; he still knew my face. And although the once plump cheeks were sunken and the bright blue eyes faded, I still knew his.
It was the last time I saw Dad’s face. He passed away quietly in the early morning of June 6, his 95 -year journey on this earth now completed. A few days later, my family accompanied his body to its final resting place next to my mother, the coffin carried by his six grandsons. Dad’s earthly duty had ended. With tears and prayers, we said farewell to Dad.
Paul’s letter to the Ephesians in the Book of Acts is his farewell to the Elders at Ephesus; Paul has been called onto another mission field. During the three years Paul spent in Ephesus, the message of Christ had reached many Jews and Gentiles. Paul’s farewell address in Acts 17:16-34 includes what Paul wanted the faithful to remember about his ministry there. Determined to one day return to Jerusalem, he may also have an idea that he would soon be arrested. He says in verse 25, “And now, behold, I know that none of you among whom I have gone about proclaiming the kingdom will see my face again.”
I will not, this side of Heaven, see my father’s face again. The words my brother and I spoke at his funeral were just a small sum of the total of Dad’s life. My final farewell to him was a simple, “I love you.’
Another anniversary of a good-bye looms before me this week: on July 13, it will be five years since my beloved husband, Ron, was promoted to Heaven. My farewell to him was also simple: “I love you. See you soon.” My daughter and I left on a Friday evening to visit my father a hundred miles away. We arrived home the next day to find that Ron had already passed into glory. Ron’s life span had not been nearly as long as Dad’s and his illnesses and infirmaries had kept him housebound for many years. The man he had once been was slowly stolen by the effects of a decades -old car accident and too many surgeries to count. The words I spoke at Ron’s funeral were also a small sum of the life my husband had lived. His four nephews, his brother, and his brother-in-law accompanied Ron’s coffin to its final resting place.
Of course, there were tears and prayers.
Dad’s grave was covered with sunflowers, the flower of hope. Today I placed sunflowers on Ron’s grave
.
Both tears and prayers are a part of the Christian walk. A sermon by Elder Kevin Wood (A Legacy of Service: Paul’s Farewell to the Ephesian Elders — Forest Park Baptist Church) offers this about tears and prayers:
“Tears are a part of ministry. And they are a part of goodbyes. There is no shame in tears, and there is no shame in prayers. If your Christian walk doesn’t include tears and prayers, then maybe it’s not as deep and mature as it should be.”
The faces of both of these beloved men are now hidden from me.
But I know I will see them again.
Frail as summer’s flow’r we flourish, Blows the wind and it is gone; But while mortals rise and perish, Our God lives unchanging on. Praise Him, praise Him, alleluia! Praise the high Eternal One! -Henry Francis Lyte, Praise my Soul, the King of Heaven
Ronald Allen Cobourn May 30, 1951-July 13 2019
Harvey Roberts Waltersdorf November 16 1928 - June 6 2024
When have both tears and prayers been a part of your earthly walk?
What beautiful thoughts on your late husband and your late father. It's good to give closure to one's life here on earth. Your father's casket was beautiful as were the flowers adorning it.