I have recently been noticing how surprisingly my Father in Heaven shows his hand in my life. I realize that when he promises to “lead us by the hand” if we turn to Him, He means what He says!
For instance: Last Friday night, I dreamed that I saw my sister in law beckoning to me. I asked, “Are you telling me that it’s time for me to die?” She nodded, smiling and welcoming. So I obediently stopped what I was doing and leapt into death. It felt like leaping through a strong spider’s web into a deep feather bed.

I stood up and thought, “If I’m dead, I might be able to fly! Shauna laughed, “Go ahead and try it.” I soared up into the sky and danced in three dimensions for awhile. (Amazing fun!) But then I realized I ought to go to heaven. So I jumped as high as I could, but I was pulled back to earth. I jumped again and again with the same result.

I thought, “Well, this really stinks. Maybe I’m supposed to go down. So I burrowed into the earth but thankfully,I made even less headway. There was no passage for me. I realized that I had something to do before I proceeded onward. I found I could help people with many tasks, even though most mortals couldn’t see me. No matter how difficult the task I observed, I could help them. What a joy it was to bring relief to those who didn’t expect it and to be like the shoemaker’s elves.

 I’ve often been prone to vivid dreams. Sometimes I’ve known their significance but mostly they are just the result of something I had thought about the day before.

The day after I had this particular dream, my beloved Uncle Bob died. I knew that it had been imminent, and I had been thinking of him and musing on how much I would miss him.
The tender mercy of the Lord took the form this time of preparing me for an easier mourning, since I had dreamed of my own death the night before. It held no dread. It was joyful. I was reunited with (or anticipated the reunions) with many that I love. The dream helped me to focus on the relief and joys that surround death instead of suffering my own loss. Perhaps I can be more useful to Eleanor because my own grief is assuaged.  

Uncle Bob and I used to exchange emails several times a week. We became very close. We’ve visited Bob and Eleanor in their homes and they’ve visited us in ours’. We travelled the highlands of Scotland with them with Bob as tour guide extraordinaire, (They had a home there.)

He was an honest critic of my writing. He’d read everything I sent him and respond honestly.(Sometimes he praised and sometimes he didn’t. He’d tactfully say, “This isn’t up to your usual standard.”)

 Sometimes he’d send me things he’d written. I helped edit his thriller novel “Last Hope.” He was so interesting to talk to. He remembered details of cases he’d tried and could always spin them into colorful yarns. He’d been a successful defense lawyer and later a California Superior Court judge. He retired from judging quite awhile ago, but had continue working as an assigned judge until the year before last when California couldn’t afford to pay for part timers anymore.  He’d been a marine in WW2, stationed in the Pacific. He has five children, (four living; my cousin ‘Lucky’ died a few years ago of breast cancer.)
He became more politically liberal as he got older. I told him he was being corrupted by watching too much CNN. He hinted that perhaps I was watching too much Fox News. sigh* He commented recently that he knew Barak Obama would be the last president in his lifetime. I think by then, he’d stopped thinking about politics much. His attention seemed mostly drawn toward those he loved, particularly Eleanor.  

For the last six months or so, Bob’s body had been failing. He was slow to respond to emails and sometimes apparently missed reading ones I sent.  He repeatedly injured himself falling and consequent stays in the hospital weakened his email habit. Last year, he and Eleanor planned to come to Oklahoma again. But the weather turned ferocious and they were worried about tornados. They doubted that they could navigate the steps into our shelter. The day of their planned arrival, a series of tornado scoured Oklahoma and I was relieved that they had ‘delayed’ their trip until the fall. But they didn’t travel far after that. A three hour trip to Las Vegas for my nephew’s wedding was as far as they ever went.  He required regular blood transfusions. He wasn’t making hemoglobin anymore.
A few months ago, he complained of a sore throat. He was aspirating food or drink he took by mouth. He’d already had throat cancer once, (lost a vocal chord to it) and I feared it had returned.
But until the end, he did not go softly into that dark night. He continued to try to find a solutions to his ailments. I think he hung on for Eleanor’s sake. They’ve been so much together for so many years, I think he was as mystified by what she would do without him as he was by what he would do without her.
I had often wondered that myself. When Bob told a story, Eleanor would look at him with such an enthusiastic expression, smiling and nodding, so proud of him, you could tell she was “crazy about him” Imagine! 50+ years and still ‘crazy in love!” He always treated her so gently and thought of clever ways to surprise and please her. When Eleanor had her stroke, Bob’s brief emails referred to her so tenderly, always asking us to pray for her full recovery.

But the moment I read my cousin’s email notifying me of Uncle Bob’s death, the vivid sensation of leaping through a spider’s web into a soft, comfortable bed, and the utter naturalness of being dead but continuing to care and love and think and question, dampened the sorrow.

Bob told his priest that he was ready to meet Jesus. How I would love to read your emails now, dear Uncle! What did He say? What did you say? Did you bathe His feet with your tears? Did He say, “Well done!”?

I won’t be receiving emails from Bob anymore. But someday, I’ll jump through that thin, fragile veil into the soft embrace of death. I’ll ask him in person. Until we meet again,

 Much love to you, dear Uncle,

Beth xoxoxoxoxo