Don't they know? Don't they know that a great tragedy has set upon the person next to them? They laugh at their jokes, they quibble at whose turn in line it is.
And all you can see is pain; it's the pain that sears deep in your soul. It has encompassed your heart and every cell of your being. Yet, even in this pain, you know it could be worse. It could be even closer to you; next time, it could be your own parent, instead of your aunt or uncle; or even closer.
How is it, that despite having had many family members die before, that this one hurts so much? The deaths of his parents, my grandparents, and of my mother in law, were the only ones that I can relate this to. He was the holiest person I've ever known; even if he wasn't my own uncle, I still would have admired him, loved him, looked up to him. To me, he was like a male Mother Teresa.
I'm so happy his pain from many years of cancer, and the harsh pain at the end, is over. I'm so happy that he is free, and I truly believe he is at home. As a Catholic, I believe that purgatory is waiting for many of us, perhaps most of us, to cleanse the remnants of sin before we enter Heaven; I want to enter Heaven as a newly baptized baby: free from original sin and any stain of sin. However, while we cannot presume to know who has already entered Heaven, we do believe that many, whom we call saints, are with God today. I believe my Saint Uncle is there today too, and pray that my grandparents were there to welcome the son they raised to be such a great and humble man.
Father, find in me the rejoicing for his soul, and help me to remember that he has achieved the goal we have set out for ourselves.
I heard this song on the radio exactly when I got the call about my Grandmother, and it fits perfectly: