Recently, I browsed through some old family photos. Besides the nostalgic moments, I felt as though I had regained a part of some dearly beloved family members. Death brings with it separation, for a time, at least. To love a person is to never stop missing them when they are gone. A good, healthy love will truly last forever.
I reconnected with my Grandmother on my mom's side during this look at the past. Her life was cut short at age 54 by lung cancer. I was eight years old, shocked, devastated by this loss. I remember that I loved her deeply and that she loved me, valued the person that I was in the process of becoming. As a grandmother, she had time for me.
The photos I discovered are now sitting on my desk, where I can gaze and remember the loved ones God has given me. Though they are gone from this earth, they remain in my heart forever. The picture of my dad as a young boy gives me insight into his character. He stands with his two younger brothers whom I'm sure he teased relentlessly, but loved ferociously, as was his nature. He was a young man in the navy, a newlywed, and a baby. I hope that somehow, in heaven, all that has been lost will be regained.
