Sometimes, when the house is quiet, if I concentrate really hard, I can still hear my Dad’s voice. I can recall how his voice sounded as he said some of his “famous” (not original) sayings. “You can’t hoot with the owls at night and soar with the eagles at dawn”, he’d say. “Better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all.” was another one. Yes, my Dad quoted Tennyson! I remember hearing him quote Isaiah 41:10 during a difficult time in his life. I can hear him quote a little poem that he and my Mom read in a devotional booklet they read together each morning. It went like this:
If I concentrate even more, I can hear him sing. He would sing “I see the moon, the moon sees me, down through the leaves of the old oak tree. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love.” As we looked at the full moon from his bedroom window at our house in Hot Springs. I think of that song many nights on my walk home from church. I gaze up at the moon and remember him and his song. I then wonder what the moon looks like from the other side, from Heaven’s shore? I remember his waking me up with the “Good Morning” song – to the tune of “Reveille”. He would come in my room and sing “It’s time to get up, it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up this morning! We’re all in our places with bright shining faces, we’re ready to start another new day!!” (He was such a morning person.) ( I was not.)
I can still hear him laughing. He had a regular laugh, for things that were mildly humorous and he also had a rollicking laugh if something was really hilarious. I can still hear him, when I want to, and it’s so clear. It’s been almost seven years since I’ve heard him with my ears. Memories are like a treasure chest full of gold and jewels that you can open any time, day or night, but no one can steal them! My treasure chest is overflowing. I’m so grateful to the Lord for my memories.
Recently, I thought of my friend who left our church a few months ago. I haven’t seen her since. If I concentrate really hard, I can hear her soft voice and her sweet southern accent. I can hear the way she used to phrase things. I can remember burdens she shared and stories of her life. I can bring it all back. I miss her. I miss her laugh, her voice, her presence.
Goodbyes are so hard. Today, I am longing for the city that my Dad called “home”. He’s there now! I call this place “home”, too. It has streets of gold, a crystal river, and best of all, my Savior, Jesus Christ, is there. He is preparing a place for me (John 14:2-3), and one day, I’ll get to be there. There will be no more goodbyes. I won’t have to be comforted by memories, for I will no longer miss anyone. That will be a wonderful day, indeed.