“Anyone who didn’t know the truth would think I haven’t written in weeks.” 

I said that to my husband one evening a few weeks ago, shortly after he’d given his nod of approval on something I had written.  The public hadn’t heard anything from me in quite a while, but we both knew that, in light of our recent reality, I’d actually been writing what I called some of the most high-pressure stuff of my life.

He typically never sees my writing until I release it out into the world, but in this case, I needed him to see it first.  In fact, it was the last of those high-pressure projects, and he’d seen them all before they ever went further than my desk. 

Quite a bit has happened around here over the past couple of months, all of it culminating in that last thing I’d just written:  His father’s obituary. 

I feel honored not only to have been trusted with writing that, but also by some other chances that came my way before and after that moment.   Honored and grateful. 

……..

I shared a special relationship with my father-in-law. 

My husband and I got together as teenagers - and we stayed that way.  We’ve spent more years of our lives together than not.  My last name has been Flynn for longer than it was ever Yoskovich.  I still remember when that first hit me:  It felt strange to realize, yet also almost impossible to remember or imagine it any other way.   

Fairly early on, my father-in-law was also my boss:  I worked in his office through most of my college years.  We’ve joked many times about where I might be career-wise today, had I not chosen the boss’s son over staying put on that trajectory.  (“Company rules” didn’t permit both…)  A fun joke about a pretty unique situation - but everyone involved always knew, for sure, that there was never even any contest…

Especially after those years of working together, my father-in-law and I developed our own distinct dynamic:  Special humor and so much formative history that we would always share. 

An accident thirteen summers ago launched his physical health into a permanent, significant state of tumult.  He endured daily struggles and challenges yet demonstrated remarkable resilience - always under my mother-in-law’s truly loving, dedicated, and watchful care. 

Plenty of times over the years, he’d taken sudden turns toward the worst, but always recovered.  Even if, truthfully, a little less “completely” each time… But when one of those sudden turns happened this last time, just before Easter, I think we all knew it felt “different” …

Reflecting now on all of it, I can see so many blessings.  People often say that even when we know in our heads that the loss of a loved one is imminent, we can never really “prepare” our hearts.  In many ways, they’re completely right.  So, I must recognize, with gratitude, the time God gave us to try…  And the truth of how much the meaningful choices we got to make in that time changed so much about the way we experienced it. 

My husband’s dad departed his earthly life just three days after his 72nd birthday.  He always loved his birthday, and we believe that, even – or maybe especially – given his rapidly deteriorating physical condition, having one more made him happy.  Considering the state of things in that last week, none of us took for granted that he would.      

Knowing the state of things had made me think about how much “someone” could eventually say about his life, and I’d begun making notes of my thoughts.  Many notes, because at that point, it felt hard to think about much of anything else.  We knew that every call or message might be “the one…” 

My thoughts had turned into paragraphs before it finally hit me:  Although failing physically, he was still with us.  All those things I’d written about him?  I still had the chance to say them to him – and to do it in honor of his birthday – even if he did not, in fact, make it to that day… 

I took the idea to my husband, who wholeheartedly agreed that his dad would love it.  So, with my mind shifted in this direction, and the sense of fragile urgency growing each hour, I sat down at my desk immediately.  I didn’t get up until it was all on the page…   

My husband’s eyes shone when he looked up from the final copy I’d presented for his consideration.  He said he couldn’t imagine who could not love hearing things like this said of themselves and the life they have lived.  Then he said, “Send it.”  So, I did.  I sent it to my mother-in-law and asked her to read it to him – and not to wait for his birthday. 

In the letter, I got to remind him of the special ways we’ve seen him use his life; of all the many ways his love has changed ours; of how God, for sure, has seen him quietly help many others.  I got to recall special memories; personal stories and experiences that wouldn’t have meant anything to anyone but us.  It made me happy that I got to remind him that they did mean something to us. 

The original idea for this letter notwithstanding – I tried not to write it in a way that felt “past tense.”  I used a lot of “you are,” and not “you were.”  But bearing in mind that we did feel the end drawing very near, it gave me joy to remind him of the very most important thing I’d ever see him do with his life:  Embrace Jesus. 

In the years following his accident he remained a churchgoer, as he’d been for basically all his life.  But those late years were different:  That’s when he grew in pursuit of a real, personal relationship with the Lord.  I got to make sure he knew we’d seen that:  To remind him that through that choice, he also gave us the peace and joy of knowing that one day, fully healed and restored, he’d live forever in Heaven!    

My mother-in-law got to read the letter to him:  Two-days before his birthday; five days before he passed.  She assures us that he heard, understood, and felt touched by it.   

……..

When the time came to make final arrangements, we all knew that he’d want us to celebrate his life more than we mourned his passing. 

He loved seeing others enjoy what he could give them!  So, we planned a celebration:  A beautiful Friday night riverfront event open to all who loved him – and who love us. 

We wanted to open the evening with a brief service, and my mother-in-law invited their longtime pastor to deliver the message.  She asked that “the letter” somehow serve as the basis for what we hoped to convey that evening.  She briefly mentioned the possibility that I could read it:  An idea I swiftly dismissed…

……..

A few years ago, at the end of my brother’s 20-year military career, I helped plan his retirement party:  A true celebration!  I created a slideshow, reliving memories from all those years over and over in the process.  I chose special music, decorations… everything had meaning.  I thought I had it covered.   

Then that evening came.

Standing before the crowd, I began to say grace before the meal that would get the party started.  I felt so grateful to get to celebrate this:  My brother successfully safe and sound, after decades of true peril.  As I tried to say that out loud, my emotions caught me completely off-guard, and I lost it.  In front of a room full of people prepared to celebrate – I ended up sobbing.  I remember hearing other sniffles start around the otherwise quiet room, and my dad, from a table in front, say, “That’s OK, Babe, take your time…” I eventually pulled it together enough to finish.  Thankfully the evening did rebound into a fun, happy party.  But how close I’d come to taking it down!  If I couldn’t trust myself and my heart at that happy time – why in the world would I trust them in a time like this?  If I blew the opening to this one?  The whole thing could go a very different way.  And if we had wanted – if we thought he would have wanted – somber and sad, we would have done traditional funeral things. 

This needed to remain a celebration of his life…

……..

We decided we’d ask the pastor to read the letter that evening.  A few days later, as my mother-in-law and I finalized our plans, the subject of the letter came up again: “He’ll read it – if you’re sure you don’t want to…” she said.  I opened my mouth to decline once again…  

Only – I didn’t:   

I would only ever have ONE chance to do any of this.  I’d thought about that truth each step of the way, trying to let it guide each choice I’d made so far:  Ones I hoped would make my father-in-law happy and proud, and that would bless my husband, my kids, and my mother-in-law.  I needed to see it through to that final evening:  To set the tone for exactly the message we intended, exactly the way we intended it.      

Before I could overthink my way out of it, I heard myself say, “I’ll do it.  I can do it…”  

And in that moment, I knew:  I could. 

Not by trusting myself or my own strength - but through complete trust in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – upon Whom I immediately began to call.  Throughout that week, many times each day, I asked the Holy Spirit to fill me with everything I needed for that assignment; to strip away any temptation I felt to rely on myself; to work in me and through me in such a way that would leave no doubt that it was Him.  Never me. 

As I stood up in front of my husband, our children, my mother-in-law, and our family and friends that evening, that’s the first thing I told them. 

Then, I read the letter.  I smiled at the memories.  I went rogue a few times, offering unwritten details and explanations about some of the stories.  I finished joyfully:  Unable to do anything but smile as I thought of him, fully restored, watching us from Heaven’s perfect peace. 

Throughout the evening, several guests told me, “I don’t know how you did that...”  Each time, I reminded them that I’d meant what I’d told them:  It was Him.  Not me.   

I’d trusted myself at my brother’s party, and we know where that got me.  This time, though, I trusted Him.  The difference is undeniable. 

I wish I had truly understood earlier in my life about God’s power and spirit that have always been there; waiting to live in me and help me in every Real-Life way.  How many things might “I” have done better?  More importantly, how many more chances might I have had to allow others to see me do them, and to give all the credit exactly where it’s always been due? 

I do wish I’d gotten it sooner – but I am so thankful that I get it now. 

……..

As it began, maybe you expected the moral of this story to be a reminder about saying what you want to say to those you love before it’s too late. 

That I got the chance to do so is certainly a beautiful part of the story, but it’s not the moral. 

At its end, the moral of this story is that even the really hard things in this life don’t have to destroy our joy - and they can’t destroy our hope of the next one. 

My mother-in-law and I talked about that, too, on the day I decided to read the letter.  We all loved and will miss the man we lost.  AND: 

We do have this joy, peace, and hope: 

About where he is now, and in the promise that, because we live with Jesus in our hearts, we will one day join him in that perfect eternity! 

We agreed:  If even one person watches us walk through this and notices joy, peace, hope - and maybe even some strength that doesn’t seem to make sense - and thinks, “I want that, too…”  We want them to know that they can have it – just like we do. 

 

 

“God makes far more use of our consecrated weakness than He will ever make of our so-called perfected strength.”

Allison Allen