It has been eleven months now and I don’t really talk to anyone about how much I miss my mother and father. After all, they were 91 and 92 years of age. They lived long, happy, fulfilling lives. They died within 37 days of one another. Their marriage of seventy-two years was a happy one and we were blessed with the great security children have when their parents adore one another for over seven decades. I know people who have suffered incredible grief, people who have lost children and spouses and parents at a young age. I am aware that my parent’s lives ending peacefully after living it for more than nine decades is not a tragedy. It is simply the thing we call “Life.” You are born, you live and then you die. I have the wonderful hope and assurance that although they are absent in their bodies, they are now “in the presence of the Lord.” It was what they lived for all their lives. To see Jesus. To be together with Him. I am happy for them.
But though they are there, I am still here. And whether or not my tragedy pales compared to the tragic events others have endured, it doesn’t keep me from missing my mommy. Missing my daddy. I had them in my life for over six decades. And now they are gone. The Lord is helping me, just as He assured my mother He would. She knew how close we were. She knew that her passing was going to be a challenge for a little girl who grew in to a grown woman who still called her ten times a day. And for the last fifteen years, they lived so close to our home, that we saw them almost every day. As she was dying she assured me, “Jesus has promised me that He will help you through when I am gone.” And He has.
Still, there are times when I just MISS THEM. I JUST MISS THEM. The other day I was shopping in a craft store, and for some unknown reason, the thought popped in to my mind that there is no one alive anymore who calls me daughter. I thought, “Wow. I am no one’s daughter. No one calls me ‘daughter’ anymore.” It was a small thought with a big tug at my heart. Being my parent’s daughter was one of my primary identities. And now it’s gone. I sighed the sigh that people sigh when there’s absolutely nothing you can do about something that you wish you could change because it makes you sad. I pushed my shopping cart, the tears welled up.
And then I "heard" His voice so loudly in my heart, it was almost audible. He said:
“I call you 'Daughter'. You are My daughter.”
Oh. Right. I have a HEAVENLY FATHER. I am in AN ETERNAL FAMILY. Death cannot come and end that relationship. Death cannot separate us. It will endure NOW and FOREVER. His voice brought me peace. As it always does. And reminded me that my parents are members of that ETERNAL FAMILY. We will see each other again. UNTIL THEN....AS I LIVE EACH DAY ON EARTH...
There is Someone who calls me daughter.
And He always will.
"See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God."
1 John 3:1