Show up

I said goodbye to my Papa today.   

As of the time I’m writing this, he’s still with us here, earth side.  But today it seems that saying his days are numbered feels like a stretch.   It isn’t likely I’ll see him again.   

I hadn’t planned on going to see him this weekend.  The timing wasn’t right.  I was exhausted from recent travel and hosting a holiday party.   I have a young baby that would be accompanying me.   And frankly, it’s uncomfortable to be in the room of someone who is dying.  What do you talk about?  What are you supposed to do when someone is actively en route from their earthly home to their heavenly home?  Besides that, I saw Papa Jay a month ago when there was still some life in his failing body.   He enjoyed our company and I enjoyed listening to him sing to my baby- the same song he used to sing to me as a young girl bouncing on his knee.    

Papa showed up 

Papa was good like that.  He wasn’t my biological grandfather but he was all I ever knew.  He didn’t let the fact that he wasn’t blood family stop him from showing up.   

Papa loved his grandkids more than most anything.  When we were young, you’d often find him in his recliner with a lap full of grandkids reading us book after book.  Or telling us a grand story.  He told the best one-liners that you ever did hear.  And funny! If you were acquainted with my Papa, you were acquainted with smiling.   

If you were around a couple decades ago, and ever sat along Main Street of that old cow town during the county fair parade, you likely saw my Papa in his straw hat and overalls sitting up high on his John Deere tractor as he pulled my sister and I in a little red wagon down the street.  Beauty queens we were not, but we felt like royalty riding behind Papa in his John Deere.     

A tractor wasn’t the only thing he could drive.  He saddled up on that old rusty tandem bike and took me for ride after ride around the little gravel circle driveway.  I’m sure he was dizzy from going, “one more time!”.   

Every 4th of July for as long as I can remember he turned the crank of that old ice cream maker as he knew he’d have a line-up of grandkids waiting for a bowl.  There’s peanut butter and jelly.  A wink and a smile.  Johnny and June.  And 4th of July and Papa’s homemade ice cream.  

He was particular about his French Gallete cookies.  Afterall, he’s been making them since he was a young boy.    His mom taught him how they were made and every Christmas he made them for us.  When he lost the strength to flip that hot iron, he sat right there in the kitchen next to me to make darn sure the cookies weren’t too big and that I turned the iron quickly enough.   

He was the kind of grandpa who showed up.  

Oh, how the memories flood in when the tears flow out.   

Saying goodbye vs. showing up 

So why would I go see him now?  When his voice is too weak to ask for a drink, much less sing songs. 

Helping me process, my husband asked me if I felt I needed to go home as close to the time of his passing as possible to say goodbye. 

In the moments after that question landed, I had my answer.  

No.   

I wanted to say goodbye, but I didn’t need to say goodbye.  After all, I had a lifetime of hellos and goodbyes.  What’s one more?  Goodbye is only a word until it becomes the last goodbye.   

What I needed was to show up.  Just like he always did for me. 

I needed to be present.  To sit next to him.  To hold his hand.  To breathe the stifling air that fills the room of someone who is journeying home.   

Christ in you, the hope of glory  

For those of us who are believers, the gift of showing up is a gift that transcends you.  So much greater than whatever you have to offer or feel you lack. In fact, it requires nothing of you, beyond showing up.    In Colossians, Paul encourages the church at Colossae with the truth that Christ himself lives in us.   Christ- the hope of glory, lives in you.  Believer, when you show up, you are bringing the very presence of God into that heavy space.  You are presenting your brother or sister with the assurance that their future is secure with Christ.  I can think of no sweeter gift. 

Show up 

 It’s tempting to steer clear of these uncomfortable moments, as if death or hardship is contagious. I know it’s uncomfortable.  I know you’re busy.  I know it’s awkward.  I know you don’t know what to say.  I know you feel like it’s someone else’s place.  I know you don’t feel like you can.  I know you think you’ll say or do the wrong thing.  All of that may be true.   

Show up anyway.  You CAN do that.    

In whatever way that looks for you, in whatever situation you know you are needed in, show up. 

When you drag your fumbling anxious self into hard spaces, empty of words, empty of ideas, the presence of Christ fills the room with hope. When you set aside your insecurities and show up, your presence ushers in the very real and personal presence of Christ.  And where Christ is, hope prevails.     

Goodbye 

I said goodbye to Papa today.  And while I don’t know if it will be the last goodbye, I do know that being together today left me sad that our adventures together on earth are coming to an end, but so grateful for the assurance of the future with Christ for both Papa and myself.    

**Addendum:  On July 9th, not two days after I said goodbye, my Papa made it to that “high place” he was talking about.  I am forever grateful that I showed up for what turned out to be the last goodbye.  In that time, we shared some sacred moments and a bowl of homemade ice cream.  A memory I won’t soon forget.