My
great-grandmother passed away two weeks ago. I was (am) saddened by the loss of her, but at the same time, I am happy for her new-found eternal life. At 100+ years, she lived a very full life here and her temporal body had been slowly failing for several years. Every time I said goodbye to her, I knew it might be our last goodbye, but I rest happy in the fact that it was our last goodbye only here on Earth. I rejoice in the knowledge that she is now seeing her Lord and Savior with perfect vision, listening to the heavenly chorus with perfect hearing and dancing and leaping for joy on the streets of gold with nary a twinge in her strong healthy legs. Our God is truly an awesome God.
But . . .
Today I received a call from a colleague back in Texas (I am working my former position from home until the end of the year, to assist with the transition to the gentleman taking my role. I will hopefully have news to share regarding a new position next week). I talk and IM with many of my colleagues still, but not this one in particular, as there is not much overlap in our responsibilities. Unfortunately, he was not calling to discuss work, but to let me know that a co-worker had unexpectedly passed away last night.
What?! He was only 51 (or maybe 52), far, far too young. We had just been IMing last week and, in fact, he had tried to get in touch with me on Tuesday, but since I am battling a cold, I started working later that day so I could get more rest, and didn't see his note until he had already left (early) for the day. He didn't come into work yesterday, so I have no idea what he wanted to discuss. I'm sure it was some mundane work-related issue, but I wonder . . . we haven't been informed of the cause of his death (and I'm not sure if it has been determined yet) but might I have detected something in his voice or words that would have tipped me off that something was not right?
Oh, God, why? He was too young. Having married later in life, he leaves behind a widow and young children: a teenage stepdaughter, a pre-teen daughter and elementary-aged boy and girl twins. We talked about his family a lot. We talked a lot in general - we shared a desk in the back corner of our department and were therefore somewhat separate from the larger group, which gave us plenty of opportunity to kibitz throughout the day. In addition to family, we chatted about all sorts of other matters: how my beloved Broncos had done over the weekend, what was the latest department/plant/company gossip, how ridiculous (fill-in-the-blank contractor/government agency/NGO) was to work with. Oh, and Popeye's, always Popeye's. His wife is a nurse, so when she worked evenings, it was daddy-and-the-kids time to share a bucket of Popeye's fried chicken, because Mama sure wouldn't get them something that unhealthy! He had a pretty dry sense of humor and could always, always make me laugh. I truly enjoyed working with everyone in my department, and felt we were the funnest and easiest-going (when it didn't come to environmental regs) group in the plant, but our shared back-corner experiences easily made him my favorite. He even kept up with me here in VA, IMing me occasionally just to see how things were going - and to tease me about those beloved Broncos or my sweet setup of working from home with a sugar-daddy (Michael) to boot. I so appreciated those chats - it's been pretty lonely up here and having a humorous break from the monotony of being home alone (really, it sounds great, but working from home can be boring). But now - no more.
With Grandma Margaret, I was prepared for her passing. I grieve for her, but I know she's in a better place and that I'll see her again soon (in the grand scheme of things). But with my co-worker? Not prepared . . . and not assured of a eventual reunion. Why, oh why, in all that time we talked about everything under the sun, did I not talk about Him who reigns over the sun? We did talk about faith and the church - I shared
my story of how the Lord brought Michael and me together and how I was adjusting to the Anglican way of life, he joked about the idiosyncrasies of the Southern Baptist church he attended at his wife's behest. So I know he heard the word - but did he know the Word? I don't know - because I didn't ask. And because I didn't ask, I never had a chance to share my saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. I hope - I pray - that he did know Jesus. I pray for his eternal rest and that we may, by God's grace, meet again. And I pray, Lord, for your forgiveness, that in my own laziness and cowardice I didn't speak of you more. Give me boldness, my God, to never make that mistake again.
