PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Today was the day of Grandma Hackman's funeral. You are three years old and don't really understand what is going on. I remember the steps up to the church, and the red bricks of the church, and everyone is sad. But you aren't sad. You'll miss Grandma Hackman, she's always been nice to you, but death isn't an idea you get yet. That's okay, I'm glad that you still remember this as a good day, even though no one else in your family will. You were just going to a different church this time, a lot like the church your dad takes you to. 

I don't remember much about Grandma Hackman, but I do remember playing at her feet. She didn't talk to you the way most adults do. I remember her talking to me almost like I was a little adult. I remember her smile, though that may just be from pictures; and I remember liking all the times that we got to visit with her. Aside from that, most of what I remember about her are stories.

Grandma Hackman felt sorry for you, because you have hip problems and have to walk around with leg braces on. She told your dad this often, but she also told your dad that she admired you. She admired the way you learned how to run while wearing the leg braces and the way you didn't let your condition break your spirit. She never gets to see you without them on, but in about a year you won't need them anymore. One of your legs will be shorter than the other, and you'll walk with a slight limp for the rest of your life, but she'd be happy to know that you'll walk just fine. That you grow up to be a healthy boy. 

The only other memory I have of her is being at Grandma Hackman's grave. Dad was crying, but that's not out of the normal, dad cries a lot. He still does twenty-eight years later. What was weird was that they put her in a box and now dad is having you throw some dirt on that box. You've never done this before, but you figure that churches do plenty of other things you don't understand and this is just another one of those things. Dad looked at you, putting his hand on your shoulder, and said, "It's okay, Evan, Grandma Hackman is in Heaven now." And you said, "No she isn't. They just put her under the dirt." Heaven is the place where Jesus is, you know that much at least, and you didn't see Jesus in the box. 

There are so many things that you're learning right now, and death will be the hardest lesson you'll learn. I believe this death, one that you weren't even sad about until years later, was God's way of easing you in to the most painful thing that ever happens to us in this life. There will be many deaths in your life, and none of them will ever be as easy as this one. I will tell you more of them later, when you're a little older and able to understand, but for now I'll leave you with this. Grandma Hackman isn't in that box anymore, that was only her body. She has a new body now, and she isn't old anymore. She isn't sick. She isn't in any pain. She's with Jesus in Heaven, with a new body that He made special just for her. And someday, when you have a new body, she'll be delighted to see you in Heaven. Seeing you walk for the first time without leg braces, seeing that her prayers really were being answered all along.

From me to you,

Big Evan