My friend died on Monday.
The end came after two long years of chemotherapy, low platelets, a stem cell transplant, multiple hospitalizations, and something called Graft Versus Host Disease that had whittled her body down to the barest vestige of life.
The end was a long goodbye, weeks of preparing for what we hoped would never come. Still, nothing prepares you for that final parting. That last morning, I got to say everything to her and nothing at all. I don’t know if she could hear me, but I hope the Lord parted the veil of consciousness so she could. How I have loved you, dear friend. How blessed I am to have been loved by you.
Walking into her house without her in it was the oddest thing. She’s everywhere. And nowhere. The oxygen tanks and medicine bottles. The art on the wall. The Scripture verses written in her neat script laid out on the bathroom counter, the gallery of family photos on the wall. The pillow propped against her chair in the living room. Her husband sitting by her daughter. She’s everywhere. But not.
How can the absence of someone fill every empty space in the room? How can absence fill you to the brim with what’s missing?
I tossed and turned all night, unable to pin down my grief. “Death,” her husband had said, “is the enemy. It’s not natural. It’s not okay. It’s the curse.” And he’s right. Death is the final frontier for the work of Jesus at the cross. It is finished, but we wait for the finishing to be fully realized. “The last enemy to be destroyed is death,” Paul wrote. I worked those words over and over through the night. I have prayed for her so often for so long, that my thoughts don’t know where to go now. How do you suddenly stop praying for someone you’ve labored over for years? She doesn’t need me to pray any longer.
My five-year-old son asked me if she was in heaven. “Yes,” I told him.
“Right now?” he asked.
“Yes, right now.”
“Right now while we’re speaking?” he pressed.
“Right now while we’re speaking—she’s with Jesus.”
I can’t unravel the timeline for him just yet. But absent in body is present with Jesus, so yes, while we’re speaking, she’s in the sweetest, holiest place. She has seen His face, heard His voice. And she can breathe. No wheelchairs, oxygen tanks, or ravaged lungs.
“Why are you crying, Mom?” he asked.
“Because I miss her.”
“But she’s in heaven! She can do anything.”
“I’m sad because I won’t see her for a long time. But one day I will.”
Just the day before, we celebrated the resurrection of Christ. For most of my life, I only celebrated His resurrection. I didn’t realize that His resurrection guaranteed my own. But everything we hope for, everything we are staking eternity on, everything we have given up for the sake of Christ hinges upon the fact that He conquered death. He rose again. And we will, too. We bury Sue on Saturday, but one day her grave will be empty like His.
The edge of grief will blunt over time, I suppose. But, for now, it cuts with a force that takes my breath away when I least expect it. How can she not be here? Stacks of letters, photos, and memories scream that she was here. She was here. Death is the enemy, the curse, the harbinger of this ache, this hole, this separation, this throbbing missing that won’t be ignored. You want to push back against it. But you can’t. And that’s why we needed Jesus to come, to die, to live, to tether our resurrection to His.
It feels like the end today, but it isn’t. One day, He will raise her up, He’ll raise us up. It’s coming. His foot is on death’s neck.
It feels like the end today, but it isn’t. One day, He will raise her up, He’ll raise us up. It’s coming. His foot is on death’s neck. Share on XSue, I’m so thankful to have had you for the last ten years as my close friend, sister, surrogate grandma to my kids, faithful friend, fellow church member, prayer warrior, safe place for my heart. I will see you again, sister.
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
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