Grandpa Goes Home

Three weeks ago, Myron's dad passed away suddenly on a Saturday evening. We got a call in the afternoon that he was on his way to the hospital with what they thought was a heart attack. He was then airlifted to another hospital, but passed away around 7:30 pm. Myron was on his way to the hospital in Canton, OH, about 3 hours away, when his sister called me and let me know that Dad had gone to be with Jesus.

Perhaps the most difficult thing I've ever done is to call Myron and tell him that his dad was gone.

In the midst of this flurry of phone calls laced with tears, my dear little girl watched me with wide, worried eyes. She brought me tissues, gently rubbed my back and asked if she should get me some lotion to make me feel better. After she heard me break the news to her Daddy on the phone with the words "I'm really sorry," she looked at me tenderly and said, "I'm really sorry, Mommy." When I tried to explain what was happening to her, telling her that Grandpa was really sick, and then that he had gone to heaven, she said, "I want Grandpa to see me." Oh, how I wish he could, sweet little one.

Myron spent the night with his mother and older brother at his parents' house and came back home Sunday night to help get Betsy and I packed up and ready to head back to Orrville. That afternoon in the midst of the junk mail and bills was a little note addressed to Betsy Detweiler. It was a letter from her Grandpa written just a day before he was taken home. Myron and I held each other and cried.

Within two days all five of Myron's siblings and their families had gathered in Orrville to mourn together and say goodbye to Dad. In spite of the sadness and loss we all felt, the week together was rich and full of sweet times. We all worked together to plan a service that would honor Dad, but that would honor his Lord Jesus above all. We shared meals, laughs, tears, and lots of hugs. "I love you," was said over and over. We watched the children play and felt thankful for the legacy Dad left us. We heard stories from Dad's Amish childhood and met relatives from far off for the first time. There was so much joy in the midst of the sadness. We miss Dad. We cry when we hear a song he would like or a songbird singing in the spring breeze. But we do not despair. For Dad is where he always longed to be, with the Friend he loved so well. There will be a great reunion one day and until then we will remember Dad and smile through the tears.