One of the reasons I love to write is the fact that it can have a healing quality to it. It is my way of expressing myself, and being able to "talk" it out in the only way I know how. I have a hard time actually speaking the words out loud; sometimes my brain does not move fast enough to be able to say what I am thinking. With writing, there is a delete button, as well as a back space key. It may take me more than an hour to write something, but when I am finally done, it holds the path to my heart, and the reader can finally see what I am trying to get at. It is all a process that takes time.
Once again, I find myself having to write, so my heart can begin another healing process. It is a journey those that are left behind must take in order to deal with the loss of a loved one. God knows our days are as grass; they flourish and rise up, yet in the evening it is cut down and withereth. We will all have our day when it will be time for us to pass from this life onto the next. We know not the hour or the day; whether we will live to a ripe old age or go while we are still young and full of life.
I hear so often how we should live life to the fullest, and make the most of every day, but that does not mean we should do whatever we want. We cannot live a life of sin in fear that we may not experience 'the fun' in the future in case God takes us home early. The important thing is that we do what God wants us to do during the years of our life on this earth. We were created for Him, and should give Him the glory due His name.
James Robert Teare, aka my Great Uncle Bobby, lived a long life. He never married, so he lived alone in his big house. He had been a soldier during War World II, but he did not really talk about the war very much. I wish I had sat down with him and asked him questions about what he had seen and done. He really was a genius, and knew so much history. I still have the old cassette tape of an old family gathering where I can hear him talking about the molasses spill that occurred in Boston many years ago.
He loved being with the family, but he always made his visits short because he claimed that he needed to get back home. I often wondered just what he did back there all by himself. Maybe he felt like he was a burden on the family and did not want us to feel sorry for him. Maybe he felt sad because he saw all the happy families around him and he realized he did not have that. I do not know why he never married. I thought I remembered a story about a spurned love once, but do not know the details.
Uncle Bobby came to my graduation in 1993. I was homeschooled, so I did not have a formal graduation ceremony, but my grandparents came up to Vermont with my Uncle, and we had a lovely time going out to a restaurant to celebrate. I had one friend with me that day, who I must regret to say has also passed on from this life. I treasure those memories, and will forever keep them close to my heart.
Every summer, my family always took a trip to Cape Cod to visit my grandparents, and usually while we were there, the rest of the relatives gathered there also. It was always a fun time to see the cousins, aunts, and uncles. We got to swim in the beautiful in-ground pool, feed Zeke the seagull, and visit the beaches that were only a few minutes away from the house.
Well, one day during our vacation, my brother needed to take the car to the store, so he left the house. He returned around the same time that my Uncle Bobby and Uncle Woody arrived, and he was laughing hysterically! He explained that he had almost been run off the road by some wild, crazy driver, only to find that it was Uncle Woody driving the car! "You should have seen Uncle Bobby!" he had laughed. "As Uncle Woody flew around the corner and came into my lane, Uncle Bobby dove under the dashboard, white knuckles gripping the sides! All I could see was his terrified face peering over the dashboard on the passenger side, as he was afraid we would crash!" It is stories like that which still bring smiles to our faces when we are sad, yet I will not bore you with the other stories that only my family can rememember and relate to.
Nine months ago he was working in a hayloft and fell out, paralyzing himself from the neck down. A few weeks ago they discovered he was full of cancer, and then on Father's Day of 2012, he passed away. My family had shared the Gospel with him. He saw the testimony of my Dad, having known him as a child, and then as a teen, and into adulthood, yet he was not interested. My dad even went to see him in the hospital, but he did not want to hear about God.
I regret to say that I do not think my uncle ever made a profession of faith while he lived on this earth. That is the hardest part of having to say goodbye to another member of my family. I do not know what happened during the last few days of his life - maybe he had a heart change and trusted the Lord as his Savior. Maybe someone had the opportunity to lead him to the Lord. I can only rest in the peace that the Lord gives me, knowing He knows all things. May the Lord help my heart heal, and help me be a great witness for Him so other family members can know Him as I know Him.
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