Painful Goodbye, Joyful Welcome, Two People Being Welcomed Home (Part 1)

"Lola"--that's what my sisters, brother, and I called her. It's the Filipino word for "grandmother". Marina was her first name, which we gave as Grace's middle name. To her family who knew and loved her, the name "Lola" is like a freight train a mile long with box cars packed full of wonderful and unique personality, meaning, and memories.

She was slight in height and frame, just shy of 5 feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds after a big meal. When we were kids she told us gripping stories...of being an orphan, running away from a boarding school, enduring the abuse of relatives, and surviving the Japanese occupation of the Philippines during WWII, even hiding a chicken in a jar when soldiers came to steal their food, hoping her chicken wouldn't make noise.

Lola and Lolo (our grandfather) came to the US a couple years after my parents returned to the States from the Philippines in the mid-70's. For much of our childhood they moved wherever the Air Force sent our family so that they could be near us. My little sister Kathleen even had a Filipino accent when she was a little kid because Lola took care of her so much of the time. As my older sister Bonnie put it the other day, "Lola was magic with children." Always ready to play with you, always making you the center of her world in the moment.

She was hilarious, though she wasn't trying to be funny. Her quirks were endearing and entertaining. She was so unique that trying to describe her is perhaps like trying to describe a dream to someone else. It made perfect sense while you were dreaming it, yet somehow it can't seem to be accurately conveyed with words.

She read her Bible and prayed every single night at around midnight. I doubt she ever failed to pray for us, her family. A woman familiar with suffering and trial in life, she was a model of faithfulness and perseverence. When she spoke of Jesus, it was clear she knew him like a dear friend and yet revered him deeply. That's how I want to be.

She had always been healthy and strong. Even at 86 years old, last September she was taking care of her great-granddaughter Sydney as my sister Bonnie and brother-in-law Scott were getting adjusted to caring for their newborn son, Devin. She fell severely ill in October. In early December doctors discovered a large, cancerous tumor in her intestine. They couldn't remove it. We knew she would die relatively soon and prayed that God would spare her from a painful death. He answered our prayers. Until her death, she felt no pain, other than the discomfort of lying in a bed for so long.

My family brought Lola home to Bonnie and Scott's place. Hospice care was set up for her. The day after New Year's (the day we got home from Montana), I flew to San Jose. I went to say goodbye. I read Scripture to her (including the story of Jesus raising Lazarus, testifying to the fact that he is the resurrection and the life) and reminded her, during her awake and lucid moments, that Jesus was with her. The night before she died I said goodnight to her. She said, "God is with me." Then she said goodnight to me. The next day (which was just last Friday) Kathleen and I went to visit Lolo at their apartment. We wept with him, as he had recently learned that Lola was no longer eating or drinking. The grief deep in his heart was visible. Lolo is 96 years old. He and Lola were married 68 years. Lindsay and I would have to be married until 2071 to married as long as Lolo and Lola were. Is it possible to imagine the magnitude of losing your wife of 68 years?

Later in the afternoon we returned to Bonnie and Scott's place. Lola's breathing became irregular. Breaths were spaced out by 30 seconds. Then 50. Then she stopped breathing altogether as we stood around her bed crying and saying goodbye.

I was struck that in that moment her spirit went to be with Jesus. I gave thanks to Jesus for his death and resurrection, which assures me that she is with him.

We mourned in the house that day, with Lola's body still there in bed in the living room. My parents brought Lolo over to the house. He kissed her face. I gave him her right hand. He wept and wept, and I wiped his nose with one hand and embraced him with the other arm. I both wept with him and for him.

The power went out during the day because of the rain and windstorm, and as night fell we lit the room and house with candles. In the candlelight we gathered around Lola's bed and had a memorial service for her. We shared stories and memories and things we loved about Lola. We also shared our tears. I knelt by the bed and prayed aloud to end our service. The funeral home people came shortly thereafter and took her body. Grief continues, but we've said goodbye.

We miss her deeply. I am so thankful I got the chance to see her and be with her before she died. The providential hand of God was evident to me in all of this. On New Year's day (Tuesday) I flew home from Montana with Lindsay and Grace. On Wednesday I flew down to San Jose. Lindsay and Grace couldn't come because Lindsay was too far along in her pregnancy. I was to leave for the airport to fly home on Friday. But an hour before I was to leave, Lola died. I had actually been hoping that she would die while I was still there, rather than have to say goodbye to her while she was still alive, knowing that that would be the last time I'd see her. Thankfully, I was there when she passed. So I stayed an extra night to be with my family. All the while, Lindsay and Grace were back home. We had been praying that Lindsay wouldn't go into labor while I was gone. Thankfully, she didn't. I flew home last Saturday and got home at 5:30 p.m. Twelve hours later, at 5:30 a.m. on Sunday morning, Lindsay's water broke.

Saying goodbye to Lola was painful. But I know that she is with Jesus. I know that I will see her again. She was welcomed into her eternal home with the Lord. Only days after a painful goodbye we were joyfully welcoming our daughter Noel into our home. God's hand of kindness and providence has been upon us.