Home Sweet Home: When The Saints Go Marching In

A few days ago we brought Misty’s dad home on hospice care. As I write these words I’m only about four feet from his bed. He lays on a hospital bed in the living room. He’s wrapped in a very comfortable grey blanket. His favorite team (Alabama) just won comfortably over Wisconsin. He’s had his recent doses of medicine through an eyedropper after having to crush his meds and mix them with a protein shake. He is resting easy. Very easy.

It’s a strange thing to watch those we love pass into eternity. We have to feed them, change them, bathe them and attend to every need. We watch as the minutes stretch to hours and sometimes hours to days. Just waiting for the end to come. Praying they aren’t in any pain. Hoping for one more glimpse in their eye that you are recognized and loved.

A famous Indian poet one said, “Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come." I like that thought because it reframes the perspective on grief. But the Bible speaks the most valuable truth on the subject. Revelation 13:14 says, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on… yes, that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.” I also love Psalm 116:15 that says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." Amen!

Passing the Torch

In 2010 I lost my mom. Her life was plagued with health issues and she died at the age of 53. At that moment in time my perspective on death completely changed. I didn’t realize it at that moment but it would mark the beginning of a new phase in life. Now I’m watching Misty experience similar emotions at the bedside of her loving father. She’s where I should have been. Where I wanted to be. But there are different struggles in comparison. I didn’t see the things that she’s seeing now. Proximity is everything. We’ve been with her mom every step of this journey. From the ER, to the hospital, to the rehab facility, and now home.

Misty’s parents are like my own. Scratch that. They are my own! They’ve taken me in and loved me like a son.  I want them to have peace and hate watching them hurt. So I’d do anything to help. But there is still a helplessness I feel. I can’t make the pain go away. Maybe you can relate?

When your grandparents die, and then your parents too, you feel a figurative torch being passed. A baton you never wanted to carry. You might become the patriarch or matriarch of the family. I felt it in my gut. In my soul, even. Have you felt it? It didn’t haunt me. But it did humble me. I thought, “I guess I’ll be next.” Let’s put a pin in that thought and we’ll circle back.

The Bittersweet Reality

As a Christian, when our parents die, we face a unique, sometimes bittersweet, experience. There is profound sadness and grief, but there is always hope. Misty and I love that word! HOPE. We have a hope rooted in the belief that death is not the end, but a transition to eternal life with God. While this faith offers a measure of comfort, the process of saying goodbye remains difficult and emotional. The finality of death is a stark reality, and the grief over the loss of a parent is a universal human experience.

Before we dig deep into the struggles and fear of death, we must keep this in perspective. Heaven is real. The reality of heaven is not a matter of wishful thinking. Not for me. And not for millions of believers. Not for my mom. And not for Misty’s dad. Heaven is more than a foundational truth woven throughout the Bible. It is our home. It has been created for us to enjoy for eternity.

The Apostle Paul writes, "For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands." (II Corinthians 5:1) This verse speaks to a deep conviction that our physical bodies are temporary and that a permanent, heavenly dwelling awaits believers. Similarly, in John 14:2-3, Jesus Himself promises, "My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."

There are dozens of passages that provide a tangible promise of a real place, a prepared dwelling, that offers comfort and hope in the face of death. Heaven is portrayed not as an abstract state of being, but as a genuine destination where believers will be reunited with God, free from all sorrow, pain, and tears, as described in Revelation 21:4. Rest in that fact. Heaven is your eternal home. Don’t you want to go there? Who wouldn’t want their loved one to enter the pearly gates?

The Fear of the Things Left Unsaid

One of my greatest struggles is that I was not in the room when my mother died. My brother (who literally asks virtually nothing of me) begged me to come to Missouri to be by mom’s side. I did not. It’s a long story but suffice it to say I said my goodbyes over the phone. I failed him. I failed my mom. I failed my family. In that hour of need (a week in the making) I stayed in Alabama and waited by the phone. I’ll never make that mistake again. Misty and I are right here. Right where we need to be.

The passing of a parent often brings with it the difficult question of whether we did enough. Did we say "I love you" enough? Did we thank them enough for their sacrifices? Were we present enough in their lives? The fear of not having said or done enough can be a heavy burden. It’s a fear born out of love and the realization that the opportunity for those words and actions is gone. This sense of finality can be particularly acute for those who had a strained or difficult relationship with their parents. The desire for reconciliation and forgiveness can become an overwhelming need as time runs short. The Christian faith encourages forgiveness and reconciliation, but these are often complex processes that can take a lifetime.

When a Christian parent dies, the child is often left with the challenge of navigating their own feelings while also living out their faith. The Bible, particularly in passages like John 14:1-4, reminds us not to be afraid and that there is a place for us with God. This promise can be a source of strength, but it doesn't erase the pain. It is a faith that allows for both grief and hope. The two are not mutually exclusive. The Christian can mourn the loss of their parent while also celebrating that their going home. This is not about denying grief, but about seeing it through the lens of faith.

Ultimately, saying goodbye to Christian parents is a deeply personal and emotional journey. It’s a journey that is both sad and hopeful. It is a time to reflect on the legacy of faith they left behind and to find comfort in the promise of eternal life. It’s also a time to remember that while our loved ones are gone, our memories and the impact they had on our lives remain. It is a time for grace, for ourselves, and for our parents, and a time to trust in the promise of God’s love and mercy.

The Final Goodbyes

Saying goodbye to our parents, even as Christians, is a journey full of fear and grief, a time of reflection and, sometimes, regret. It’s the final moments that often hold the most weight—the last words exchanged, the last touch, the last chance to say what needs to be said. And yet, there's a unique and sometimes painful reality that not all those moments are perfect.

The fear of not having said enough is a common one. It's the "what if" that haunts us in the quiet moments of the night. What if I hadn't been so busy? What if I had made more time? What if I had been brave enough to express my love more openly? What if I hadn't let that one argument fester for so long? For the Christian, this fear is intertwined with the belief in a God who values relationships and reconciliation. There is a deep desire for things to be "right" before a parent passes away. But life is messy, and relationships are imperfect. Sometimes, the chance for that final, perfect conversation never comes.

This is where the Christian belief in forgiveness becomes so essential, and so challenging. It's one thing to forgive a parent for a past hurt, but it's another to come to terms with the fact that they are now gone, and that the opportunity for a final "I forgive you" or "please forgive me" has passed. The burden of unresolved issues can be heavy. But even in this, there is a path forward. The faith that teaches us to forgive others also teaches us that God’s grace is sufficient, and that He can heal the wounds that we ourselves cannot. We can trust that our parents are in a place of peace, and that God's love has the power to bridge the gap that death has created.

Ultimately, we have to find a way to make peace with our own hearts. We have to forgive ourselves for the things we didn't say, and the things we didn't do. We have to trust that our parents knew they were loved, and that they are now with a loving God. The journey of saying goodbye to our Christian parents is one that is marked by profound sadness, but it is also one that is filled with the hope of a reunion in the future. It’s a faith that promises that this is not the end, but a new beginning. We can grieve, we can hurt, but we can also have hope in the promise of eternal life.

Final Thoughts

My mind often wanders into my past experiences. I think about what I’d do to change the way I handled my mom’s death. What would I have said? How could I have been better prepared? I know one thing I can do. I can help Misty and her mom in this moment right now. I can help us all focus on the fact that this is not the end. Heaven is real. Eternity will be ours one day.

I told you we’d circle back to that nagging thought, “Will I be next?” Maybe. But is that a terrible thing? I can only pray that when my hour has come I’ll be surrounded by the people I love the most. In a home I’ve lived in for many years. Next to a window that peers onto the porch where I’ve spent hours in reflection. Looking into a yard I’ve maintained and where my children and grandchildren have played. Where I could see the spot we’ve taken annual Easter pictures, played with the cats, flown RC planes, chased squirrels, and killed snakes.

If you pause long enough you can imagine the love that’s been in this house. Misty’s mom started living in this house when she was in the seventh grade. Misty’s grandma died in this house, much in the same way her dad is now. It’s the family home! You can almost hear sounds of the kids running down the wood floors into the kitchen. You can smell the pound cake, cookies and pies wafting through the dining room and into the living room. I can see it. I can smell it. I can hear it. And it’s beautiful.

As I sit in this room I reflect on all the Thanksgiving meals in the nearby dining room. The numerous traditional family Christmas events and unwrapping of presents in this living room. The tree stood in the very corner where dad’s bed is now situated. Birthday parties. Tickling fights. Wrestling. Hugging. Crying. And, most of all, expressions of Christian love. This is where I’d want to be. Wouldn’t you? Unless you don’t like the idea of having your son-in-law having to change your clothes and sheets. Don’t worry. I’ve told dad that he’s getting exactly what he’s paid for concerning my nursing skills and expertise! He laughed so hard! And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Misty, mom, me and a few family members have taken full advantage of this experience. We’ve laughed with dad and shared our favorite stories together. He is such a character. Jokes. Pranks. Funny stories. He’s so quick witted and, when he’s alert, he laughs with us and cries with us. Mostly happy tears. We’ve talked about him flying RC planes, joking at family gatherings, shooting guns with the grandkids, telling me I couldn’t date Misty (he just wanted me to marry her immediately) and other fun memories. He seems to not only appreciate the endearment but thrives on resting near us. He knows we’re right here to help.

In the end, as we navigate the painful journey of saying goodbye, we are not left without hope. Our faith tells us that this goodbye is not forever. Death is a temporary separation. Just a moment in the span of eternity. We carry legacy, love, memories, faith, and laughter in our hearts until we meet again. The tears we cry are real, but so is the promise that one day, we will be reunited with our loved ones and our Heavenly Father, in a place where goodbyes are no more. Until then, we can live with a love that transcends grief, and a hope that transcends death. These days may be difficult but better days are ahead. Our home sweet home awaits us beyond the veil. That is the Lord’s promise.

You are loved.

Ray Reynolds, PhD

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