Letter to My Grandpa
Dear Grandpa Art,
Today, November 17, 2020, you would have been 95 years old. A world pandemic and the safety precautions that came with it robbed me of my last chance to visit you. I'm not even sure the last time you saw a face you recognized. I also know that you probably wouldn't have recognized me even if I could have visited. I hope someone who was there held your hand at the end. I don't like to think of you dying alone. There are so many things to be sad about in the midst of your death, but it's what comes next that gives me reason to hope.
Today, you are standing before your Savior. You get to see Him face to face. Here on earth, the part you knew had all but slipped away, but now, oh now, you know fully because you are fully known (1 Corinthians 13:12). I imagine that in the end you groaned within yourself at your mind and body that had ceased to be the strong and active grandpa I knew. But now, you no longer have to wait for the redemption of your body. It is complete. Your adoption has been finalized (Romans 8:23) and you will stand forever to worship the one true King. Death is over for you, and you no longer have to endure mourning or crying or pain (Revelation 21:4).
Please hug the people I love that I never got to meet: Grandma Betty Jo; my brothers and sisters and cousins (your grandchildren); your great-grandchildren: Lindsay, Poppy, Chip, and my nieces and nephews. I'm sure you will recognize them there, even though you probably wouldn't have recognized me here. Save us a place together at the banquet table because that's a party no pandemic can cancel. I love you, Grandpa!