mom and dadThere is so much I wish . . .

I have a picture of mom and dad from the weekend in June when I had the privilege of “officiating” at the renewing of their marriage vows on their 50th anniversary. Two months later Dad entered eternity. And five years later, mom joined him. In the picture they look so wonderfully alive, and of course, they are even more wonderfully and fully alive now that they behold the Savior face to face.

But I miss them.

I know I will see them again but I miss them.

Life moves on. My dad was a mountain of a small-in-stature man. He loved his children and his wife and all 26 grandchildren and the still growing-in-number passel of great-grands. And he dominated life and a room like my son does now. In most rooms, my dad was, like my son is now, “the most interesting man in the room.”

My mom was the quint essential “help-mate”, the glue that kept the family together and bound up all our wounds. Seven babies, four of them before she finished her 23rd year, five boys and two girls, three of the boys, (myself, and two others) with serious “ants in the pants” hyper-activity. Today they would label us and drug us. Glad I was born when I was. 

I miss them. I miss having conversations about just about everything. But even more, I miss the conversations I never took the time to have.

I was too busy with my own plans. Too busy with raising my own family, and loving my wife, and serving my students, and church and ambitions.

My parents are gone and the library is closed. The stories they could have told me. The feelings they might have shared, the wisdom they could have passed on, the perspective they might have given—it’s all gone with them. That library is no longer available and I am the poorer for it.

I think that is the part of what Moses is pointing to in the one Psalm in the psalter that is ascribed to him, Psalm 90 (a previous post). “Teach us to number our days, O Lord.” 

Yes, that is what I wish I had done earlier in life. It is still what I need to do now.

I suppose that’s what this post is all about. I’m trying to reflect on my life and measure it in some way, and I wish I had my father, the earthly one, and my mother, his help mate, to sit down with and have a long conversation about life. But they are gone now and the moment has passed.

Mom and Dad on a Sunday in June

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6 thoughts on “My Parents are Gone

    1. Amen. Once again, like when we were children, they will be our teachers again. They have had some time to learn the beauties and depths of the gospel and the love of God that we still see through a glass dimly.

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  1. Thank you Marty for this reminder. My Mom passed into glory two years ago. We were best friends, my parents lived with Mike and I, so I saw her and cared for her everyday. And I miss her. My 88 year old Dad is still with us, and we treasure him. Thanks for the reminder to appreciate him while I can, and to have all those conversations now while I am able to. Because someday (perhaps soon), God will call him home too. And I will miss him very much too. Time will go on, and I will see them again, but I will miss them very much.

    You and I are so very blessed to have had the kind of heritage that we share. May we be this kind of parents, and grandparents that were modeled for us.

    Blessings brother,
    Sherry

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  2. This brought tears to my eyes. I think of these things often as I see our parents aging. It has caused me to change my priorities and how I spend my time. Life on this earth is but a blink of an eye. Thanks for sharing your heart, Marty, and for the reminder.

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