On April 23, 1992, I had just turned 4 thirty five days earlier. From what I remember, life was good. I mean, I was only 4 years old so how ‘bad’ could it be right? When I woke up that morning, little did I (or anyone in my family) knew of the somber day that laid before my entire family. April 23, 1992 is the day that my grandma went to be with Jesus. It has been 24 years since that day and the pain of the loss, is still there. As a 4-year old, I didn’t understand what had happened and I especially didn’t understand words such as ‘Chemo’, ‘cancer’, ‘death’, ‘heaven’, ‘God’. I didn’t know what a funeral consisted of or why people wore black and gave things called eulogies at them. Cemeteries and caskets were something that my eyes hadn’t seen prior. I lost a bit of innocence that day, as the reality of the world I was/am growing up in, became a bit more ‘real’.
As a 28 year old, I now understand
what ‘chemo’ and ‘cancer’ are and, although I don’t think I will ever fully understand
the words; ‘death’, ‘heaven’ or ‘God’, I do have a greater understanding of them
and most importantly, of WHO God is. I
have been to more funerals than I can count, both here at home and while
overseas. Funerals of people I’ve known
my entire life, and funerals of people whom I literally just met. Through these various funerals; the reality
of just how fragile life truly is, has been a stark reminder. From witnessing my own grandma’s funeral when
I was 4, to seeing row upon row of small grave sites as I listened to the wails
of African women at the funeral of a month old ‘dump’ baby last spring, in
Zambia. Having been asked, and then
giving the eulogy at my uncle’s funeral this past fall became a stark reminder
that when death comes, death comes. This
past week, we lost a precious individual at work to death. A young man of 35 years of age, whose smile
lit up those around him. Although I didn’t
know him long, I am going to miss seeing his smile each and every day and the
joy that came with it.
I have walked on many
cemetery sites locally and aboard, and I have seen many different sized caskets
since my grandma’s 24 years ago. Truth is, it still isn’t easy. Death isn’t easy. Don’t give me the line, “at least they are no
longer suffering” or “I am sorry for your loss”. I have long since lost all innocence that my
once 4 year old self had. I understand
pain and I understand loss. Reality is;
Death sucks no matter the age. Period. End
of story.
However, today I choose
to have a different perspective on death.
Today I chose to be thankful for life, for my own mom and the gift she
has been/is in my own life. Although we don’t
always get along (what mother/daughter relationship does?!?) I am thankful
that, at the end of the day, I know she is here and I know I can hug her one
more time. Those hugs, any time spent
with her, will forever be cherished. Mom,
I love you so much!Today I am thankful she is two provinces away spending time
with her grandson, laughing and making priceless memories. I am thankful Peregrine HAS the chance to
spend time with his grandma. He truly had
no idea how blessed he is to have her as his grandma. I am thankful for the love that my mom
already has for Peregrine’s younger brother or sister, set to grace us with
their presence in July.
Today I am thankful for
the gift of ‘hands’ my own grandma instilled in each of her daughters (my
aunts) and son (my uncle). Yes, they are
a ‘crazy bunch of Brauns’ but their hands of ‘touched’ more lives than you or I
will ever know. I am thankful for their
teachings and influence upon my life, encouraging me to use my ‘hands’ no
matter where in the world I am. As I take
a moment and look upon my own hands, I marvel at the stories they could
tell. In 28 years, my hands have been on
some incredible adventures all around the world. They have held countless of kids, in all
walks of life. They’ve been that
support, whether physically helping a young lady girl off a pole in
Thailand’s Red Light District, or lifting my local youth girls up in prayer as
I looked down upon the beautiful smile of an 8 year old African child who has
forever changed my life. Thank you Jesus, for the gift of hands that you have
blessed my family with.
Thank you Jesus; for
dying the ultimate death so that in YOU, we may have life eternal.
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