The Good Fight

Usually, I use this blog as a way to jokingly complain about certain parts of my life. This post is not going to be like that; instead, this post is going to be a catharsis for me.

One week ago today, a dear friend of mine's father had a heart attack with essentially no warning. He was 54 years old, physically fit, and incredibly active. I was shocked and saddened but thought that it would be like every other heart attack that I've heard about the past few years. I thought that he'd have surgery, get a few stints, spend a few days recovering, and then be back in the saddle with a low sodium, low-fat diet. Instead, this time, it wasn't that simple. Instead, this past week has been filled with tears, heartache, and grief. My dear, sweet Chelse: I love you and I loved your daddy. He was an amazing man and will be missed so much by everyone who knew him. We're here for you.

Fatefully it seems, I was given a book last week to read. It was one that had been suggested to me many times, but I had never gotten around to reading it. I guess that I just wasn't meant to read it until now. The book was Same Kind of Different as Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore. If you haven't read it, I don't want to ruin it for you but I do want to share the last passage written by a homeless man, Denver Moore, on death. He wrote:

"The truth about it is, whether we is rich or poor or something in between, this earth ain't no final restin place. So in a way, we is all homeless - just workin our way toward home."


It is fateful that I read that passage this past Thursday because on the Tuesday before, Mr. Ronnie passed away. It is fateful that as I was contacting people to let them know that he had passed, my autotext feature on my phone kept wanting to type "home" instead of what I wanted, "gone." Had my phone had its way, the message would have said, "He is home."

I think, perhaps, the fate that lead me to read that book this week and the fate that wanted me to write "home" instead of "gone" was, in fact, God. He wanted to remind me that this earth is just a temporary dwelling place and our bodies are just temporary vessels. I needed that reminder. I still need that reminder. I'm pretty certain that I'm going to need that reminder every day for a long time.

During the funeral today, the preacher spoke of those verses in Ecclesiastes 3 that talk about how there is a time for everything. While I may think that Mr. Ronnie's passing was way too soon, it wasn't too soon. It was his time; whether I want to accept that or not. The preacher also spoke on 2 Timothy 4:7 where it says, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith." I have trouble even thinking about that scripture and not tearing up, but, in Mr. Ronnie's case, that scripture is incredibly appropriate. He was here for 54 years and did what he was sent to do without wavering from his appointed task. He just finished the course a little sooner than we were ready for him to finish it.

I know these next days, weeks, and years will be tough for all of us, but I know how I am going to get through them. For now, I'm just going to say, "goodbye Mr. Ronnie, I'll see you when I get Home."