It’s 12/30/20. My grandpa passed away a couple of nights ago due to complications from COVID-19 and my brother also lost his life this year from being ambushed in Afghanistan on 2/8/20. Both were unexpected. Both, still feeling deeply for.
If there’s one thing I’m beginning to acknowledge about death is that it doesn’t discriminate, and in the moment is discouraging to confront.
Life can be taken young.
Life can be taken when it just began.
Life can be taken when there was still so much left to do and to experience.
Life is taken, period.
Injustice runs rampant. Sickness and disaster strike and there are is no way to stop it. It has you question the Life Giver in ways you couldn’t articulate before. At least, this is what it was like for me.
It still is.
But if there’s one thing I’m coming to understand is that every person’s days are numbered. Some people will call this fate, but I’d like to think there’s something bigger at play. Perhaps a grand plan we don’t see…there is.
Life is too meaningful to be discarded. The conscience, the will, concepts like love, hate and morals, – belief itself are of too significant value to say there is no supreme will at work.
My days are numbered. My brother’s days were numbered. My grandpa’s days were. And no matter how prematurely I might think their lives ended, they didn’t. Though they were sovereignly orchestrated by God and foreseen by him, It wasn’t God who caused their end.
It’s a uncomfortable pill to swallow for some. It was for me, but I’m learning to surrender to its perspective. This life will go by quicker than I thought. (And yet still slow enough to enjoy my children grow up and see myself grow with the family and friends I still have here).
I’m gonna see my my grandpa and my brother again and whoever else who may pass on before me – maybe even sooner than I realize.
Life is a vapor in the span of eternity.