Dear Uncle Emma,
No one ever gives you a manual or a ‘How to Navigate The Waters' book in this
area. It is like being a little child and having that horrible swim coach, who
simply throws you into the pool and says ‘swim’, with no prior experience or
knowledge. But even as horrid as that sounds, the child is still
expected to swim. He is expected to overcome his immediate woes and survive.
Despite how terrified of moving forward the child is, or how scary navigating
through the waters seems, he still does it because it is the only thing he can
do. He still does it because he is expected to survive.
Death, like the coach, has tossed us into
these uncharted waters, and has rubbed us of you. Death has rubbed us of your
smile and your caring words, of your laughter and your wise advises. Death has
rubbed us of your loving reproaches and your encouraging arms. Death has rubbed
us of you. And like the little child, we are now wadding through unchartered
waters. Though we want to sit still and cry for help, we have to paddle
forward. Though we want to yell at whomever is to blame for tossing us in this
turmoil, we have to paddle forward. Though we want to be depressed forever, we
have to paddle forward.
We try to paddle forward, telling ourselves
that by way of comfort, you would have encouraged us to do so instead of sit
and cry. We try to paddle forward, telling ourselves that by way of advice, you
would have told us to do so instead of yelling and casting blame. We try to
paddle forward, telling ourselves that by way of cheering us up, you would have
told us to do so instead of wallowing in depression.
So with the believe that you are now at
peace, resting in Him and now free of pain, So with the believe that you are
now home, smiling down on us; we bid you farewell and a good rest, and we
paddle forward as best as we can, and hope we make you proud.
Rest easy with our Lord, till we meet to
part no more.
Adieu Dear Father, Uncle and Brother.
27th September, 2012.
