"Eye Has Not Seen, Nor Ear heard..."

... the marvels of a world we can only try so hard to make sense of, like someone lost in a storm at night looking for a lit cabin in the thick woods.

Last night I had a dream about my grandma, almost a month after her passing. A dream I can't really remember any other details about. It keeps playing peek-a-boo with me, I think I catch a glimpse, then it's gone the next second. But as I play the dream game, I can't help it wondering how is it where my grandma is now. Is "now" still valid? Maybe in her dimension, time is measured in the blooming of a rose... A hundred blooming roses make up a garden, a thousand gardens make up a forest, a million forests make up the concept of green, or even better, they define one summer. Summers dance in a perfectly round circle, and a trillion circles form one breath of God. His one breath instantly becomes a multi-dimensional, trans temporal world where God is.

Magnificent.
Luminous.
Mighty.
Loving
Always.

Somewhere down below, we dip our fingers in green and paint some grass on the small earth we call home, sprinkle fireflies on it and red ladybugs with black dots, fill our lungs with air, call it wonderful and fix our eyes on the canvas of stars above.
How small we are, and how incomprehensible and uncontainable is the universe He holds in His right hand, with ease.

On The Brink Of Eternity

The night was restless and felt like wave after wave crushing on stormy shores.  I couldn't fully explain it, but as I heard my mom crying on the phone on Monday morning, I understood why.  My grandma, who raised me for the first six wonderful years of my life, and showed me love and freedom, and sprinkled my childhood with her warm smile, good food and caring touch, was now leaving, after a massive stroke that left her right side paralyzed and unable to speak anymore.
Instantly, I remembered our last phone conversation the Wednesday before...

"I'm getting old and tired, this body is not helping much anymore.  I walk to the gate and back and feel so tired."

"You're still so strong..."

"Oh, I don't know...  When will you be coming to see me again?"

"Maybe in the fall, if not, next spring for sure."

"You won't find me here anymore, you know..."

"Of course I'll find you.  You're strong and you'll wait for me, one more time.  You have to hang on and not let go."

She laughed and said, "If the Lord calls me, I'll go.  It will be my time."

"But you have to promise you'll wait for me no matter what."

She laughed again, "We'll see..."

Somehow, time and space dissipate when your spirit is willing.  I flew half way around the world and the next day I was by her side, holding her hand, heartbroken.  She was still clinging to life, with the same determination that kept her strong throughout her life.

Night after night, her fragile body withstood her spirit.  She stopped her heavy breathing and listened to the dog barking, the dog who was her best companion and friend, and to the mornings that came with vibrant sounds of roosters crowing, hungry baby chicks, looking for their mommy hen, birds flying in the dawn, flowers and their sweet perfume.  While she was fading away...

Days slipped away into nights, nights seemed like moments. No, I do not fear being alone with someone dying. It's a privilege many don't have, and an honor to someone who watched me growing up. I stand on the brink of eternity and hold her hand as she sees her way to Heaven. Like childbirth, it's the only time when the door to eternity cracks open enough to see the Lord's majesty. 

"Farmers want to die with dignity", I heard someone saying.
She loved her last mornings, the joyous sounds of her farm waking up to a brand new day touched her heart and her feeble senses.  "You're home, can you hear, grandma?"  And she squeezed my hand...  She knew, and together we listened to the place that gave her strength, and brought me up.

After two days and nights spent entirely by her side, she opened her eyes again, for the first time.  And she talked to me.

"Do you know who I am, Grandma?"

"Yes, I know you."

"Does anything hurt?"

"No, nothing hurts."  A few minutes later she put her hand on her chest and said "My soul hurts".

A while later she called Jesus' name, three times.  I asked her what she meant about Jesus, but she never answered.  She only called His name.

"I don't want to live anymore."  she said.

I held her hand, and she held mine back.  Her senses were trapped, mine - speechless.

I had to leave the next day.  To continue my life, to let her continue her journey, to find her place in Heaven.  And as I said goodbye, she squeezed my hand one last time, two tears forming in  the corner of her eyes.
I touched her face for the last time, knowing for sure the gap of  eternity will start separating us very soon.
She passed away two days after I left, at 6:30 in the morning, the time of the day she loved the most.

Looking back I'm glad I made the journey, the most emotionally liberating trip I've made so far.  Our lives will never be the same after losing a loved one.  We become poorer in a way, but richer knowing that suffering brings us closer to the Lord.  And when our heart is ready, He'll bring more people in our lives, He'll marvelously fill up the empty space, and graciously lead us to the next level.

Until we'll see our loved ones again.