There 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.