The Days to Come

My sister Evelyn left this morning. She and her daughter have been by my side since last Saturday, quietly taking over all the details of running our home. She was the last of the extended family to leave; the last of the army from both sides who have so magnificently supported us this week. It’s an inevitable closure met with both dread and anticipation.

I need to take the next steps. What will that look like? What will I do? What is normal? How much will it hurt? I’m not ready to know. For now, I just need to stand up and move.

As Evelyn and her daughter packed their car I busied myself watering flowers, pinching off spent blooms . . . delaying the goodbye. While I worked I kept remembering lines from a Rudyard Kipling poem¹:

The tumult and the shouting dies;
The captains and the kings depart.

All of Harold’s eight siblings came to honor Harold. So did his mother, an uncle, an aunt, and many cousins. All of my siblings came. There were nieces and nephews from both sides and many friends and associates. What an outpouring of love and support. I wonder if it is possible to store up all those warm feelings, kind of like a solar cell, to ration out later when life moves on and we have to cope with the changes.

Still stands thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.

We have been humbled by the many friends and associates who served us so generously this week; anticipating what we would need and simply providing it without fanfare or awkwardness. Your Christlike service allowed us to enjoy this sacred time with family without worry over food and other details. It's hard to appreciate the power of that kind of service, until you've needed it. We are grateful for your example and sacrifice. I don’t even know who all of you are, but thank you, thank you, thank you.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget.

Last Thursday at 3:40 pm Harold’s spirit left his body. That one week mark just past. How did we get to today? It’s simple. We were carried. I think each of my children would say they have been blessed with power beyond their own to do what they were required to do. I know I have. I pray I never forget.

As I anticipate the days to come I ask myself this question: Will my Heavenly Father, who has sustained me through each day of this battle, drop me now? Again the answer is simple: No. He won't. He carried me through yesterday, and the day before that, and the week before that; and if I continue to look to him, he will sustain me and my family through the days to come. We Choose Faith. 

Harold Jones Family at Gravesite
July 2, 2013

¹"Recessional" by Rudyard Kipling.The poem is a prayer which he composed on the occasion of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee in 1897. A musical adaptation of the poem was included in the 1985 hymnal of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter–day Saints entitled "God of Our Fathers, Known of Old,"

Hymn #80.