Monday, November 14, 2016

Open letter to granddaughters #4

Dear loves,

I was talking on the phone to a woman who I know from one of the three little churches I serve. The woman's mother died about a year ago. The woman who died--let's call her Sarah--was a wonderful person. I visited her half-a-dozen or so times before she died. Until the last time she was sitting in her living room surrounded by pictures of family and funny little toys she collected. She had figures of Rocky and Bullwinkle (who  you don't know, I don't think) that I would have given a lot to own!

At any rate, Sarah was a dear. Kind, decent, funny, caring, loving--on and on of qualities like that.

The last time I saw her she was in bed, never to rise again, and asked me if I could pray for her to die. She was simply ready. She had a long and full life and wasn't dreading entering that door into whatever comes next. She apologized for asking, but asked me if I would, please, ask God for her death.

I couldn't do that, I just couldn't. So I asked God to let Sarah's wish reach the Heart of God. It must have. She was dead in a matter of hours after I left. I mourned her. I officiated at her funeral and held her family close. I miss her.

Then, a couple of days ago, Sarah's daughter told me over the phone that the family had stayed up all night watching the election results. "Mama wanted Donald Trump to win so badly," she told me, "we just had to root for him!"

Sarah, this paragon of virtue in my eye, had been a fan of Trump since the day he announced until the day she died.

I've pondered that for a few days. Someone I admired and liked so much wanted Trump to be her President....

I'm torn by the knowledge. I don't know how to process it--like so much of what has happened during this election.

I just didn't know what to say to Sarah's daughter who was so happy that Sarah's dying wish had been fulfilled. I was torn.

"Torn" is an apt word for how I feel these days....

Love you girls, Grampa

No comments:

Post a Comment

Blog Archive

About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.