We see no longer

It has been three months since my younger brother died. I want so much to pick up the phone and call him, but I can't.  He isn't there.  I know, I held his hand as he left this world.

I remember the companion of my childhood. How we used to run through the fields of the family farm, getting into trouble, fighting, talking about girls. I was so proud of the man he grew up to be. How he was faithful and true to his one and only wife. How he loved and cherished his daughter.  I rememeber his constant support during the time my own wife was dying.  When I could not even stand as I left her deathbed, he was there holding me up.  He drove me home to my kids. There hasn't been any major life event where he wasn't present. The void is palpable.

I am so thankful to God for the redemptive work of Jesus. For now I am not without comfort.  I know that my brother is in the nearer Presence of God. I know that beholds Jesus in God's  heavenly dwelling place.  I know that his heart and soul now rings out in joy to his Maker. 

But I miss him here....

Father of all, we pray to You for those we love, but see no longer: Grant them Your peace; let light perpetual shine upon them; and, in Your loving wisdom and almighty power, work in them the good purpose of Your perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

Comments

[karen]

I thank GOD that I know you. It has been six years since my own brother left this life, and I grieve with you and rejoice knowing that they are now with our Savior, Jesus.

[Rachel]

I was always greatly comforted by the fact that Jesus cried at Lazarus' death, even as he prepared to raise him. It comforts me to know that we can still grieve, even when we know that our loved ones have joined God.

I keep you and your brother in my prayers.

[Bro. Bartleby]

I recall the pathos when reading Augustine's Confessions where he is recounting the loss of his best friend:
"Mine eyes sought him every where, but he was not granted them; and I hated all places, for that they had not him; nor could they now tell me, "he is coming," as when he was alive and absent. I became a great riddle to myself, and I asked my soul, why she was so sad, and why she disquieted me sorely: but she knew not what to answer me."