My wife just lost her father. I won’t go into details about his passing except to say that it was a bittersweet experience for the family, and that we saw many tender mercies from the Lord. Instead, I want to talk a little bit about the bitter bargain that accompanies each new birth.
We are all far too mortal. We try to ignore the evidence even as we see our bodies age. We are less energetic. We have more wrinkles. We don’t bend down as easily or come back up as quickly. We are more prone to injury. Friends and family members around us precede us in death. And still we lie to ourselves, consider ourselves invincible, refuse to consider what our final state will be. The moment we are born, we enter into a contract with death. We live our lives desperately ignoring the consequences of that contract, but in the end we too are claimed by its uncompromising grip.
What really matters in life? When we leave this life, we go out in a small box. Maybe in new, ill-fitting clothes. But we don’t take anything with us. We leave it all behind. Our only choice is what to leave behind. Do we leave behind money and possessions? Do we leave behind family, children, grandchildren, friends who felt our love and our service during our brief lives?
When my time comes, will what I have chosen to leave behind be of any value to those still here?
I can’t help but think of my own father, and his relationship with me. When his time comes to pass away, will my tears come from missing his company and his love? Or will they come because I’ve already missed his company and his love? Why couldn’t he have taught me how to ride a bike? Or tossed a baseball back and forth? Or taught me how to hunt? Or how to fix a car? Why were our car rides always in silence? I’ve missed you, Dad.
You aren’t gone yet, but it’s already too late. I can’t recapture as an adult the things I missed from you as a child. When you pass away, I won’t cry for the things that I’ll miss about you, but for the things that I’ve already missed.
And what of my children? What are they missing? I can do better. Nobody ever taught me how to be a father, but I’m going to figure it out anyway. It’s too important for me to let my children miss me while I am still here, while I still have the possibility of being here for them.
I take after my father in so many ways. God help me. Teach me to change the future. Help me not miss my children’s lives. What will I leave behind?