I stood at the end of the tube, waiting. Holding my breath. Then I saw them. Stumbling. Tired. Weary. From the tube of the plane that had carried half of my family. My family. My four new children carried on the wings of a Lot airliner from Poland. Safe sound.
The welcoming committee greeted them with smiles. Brother. Sisters. Cousins. Aunts. Uncles. Friends. All waiting to Welcome them home. A new home. A new beginning. A new family.
Back at home in a hospital was my dear Bud, Step father. Guide. Advisor. A machine pushing breath in and sucking it out. All of us willing him to live. To be healed. Praying. Hourly. Stuffing our belles with food so we couldn’t think about the dying. The word no one wanted to speak. Spirit leaving the body. A shell left behind.
I wonder if his journey was the same. The tube. Faces. Friends. Family. Welcome. Heaven. One family joined on earth. Another rejoined in heaven. Two welcomes in one week. One leaving. Four staying.
Oh! How touching. I don’t have the right words, but I love it. (Visiting from #FMF)
Thank you! It was a tough season in my life. Charles Dickens said it best, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”
I’m praying for you, friend. May the Holy Spirit comfort you in your grief and grow you as you welcome four new members to your family.
Thank you! This event happened a ling time ago. I guess you could say I do not process grief quickly!
The two events were so overwhelming at th the time. Now I see the connection in the parallel events and it is good. God is good.
Oh you. Wishing you strength and togetherness at this difficult time.
Thank you, but this was a long time ago. I am still processing it through writing about it!
Sometimes (most times?) writing about it is the best way to process.
Yes!