Conspirator
- Brian
- I went out there in search of experience To taste and to touch and to feel as much As a man can before he repents.
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An Early Encounter with the Enemy, 1 of 2
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Thirty-one years ago this month, my great grandfather passed away after a battle with cancer. I was very young, and it was my first encounter with death. I guess I was close to my great grandparents; I attached to them in a special way because my great granfather was a woodworker and he made me toys. I still have one of the toys: a car. Like a lot of couples, my parents didn't have much money during the early years of their marriage, and while I can't really remember only having a few toys, I've been told that this was the case. Throughout my childhood, though, I'd receive a significant number of toys: Castle Grayskull, The Slime Pit, and the Carrom Board were favorites. But all of those toys passed their point of interest with me and were ultimately thrown into the trash. Not the car. I always kept it. I still keep it.
I wanted to go to my great grandfather's funeral, but I wasn't allowed. I was so young and confused by all that had happened. I didn't understand death. I asked my dad and he tried to explain it. He said something about heaven, but I didn't understand heaven either.
For years, I asked my parents to take me to the cemetery so I could see his marker but it never happened. (Well, one time, they actually did take me out to the cemetery, but then they couldn't locate the gravestone.) It was 1989 before I saw his burial plot--seven years after his death. It was a strange feeling finally being able to see it. It felt good because I finally had an idea--an image I could store to memory, along with a precise geographic location--of where in the world my great grandfather was located.
Death impacts us in such a total fashion; even when we are very young and incapable of really comprehending it, we still have some concept of its lasting impact and the brokenness and separation it creates. Every now and again, I find myself thinking about my first encounter with death and the last impact it made on me. Last week, the Queen Bee had an encounter the enemy that made me reflect upon these things.
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| The car my great grandfather made for me. |
For years, I asked my parents to take me to the cemetery so I could see his marker but it never happened. (Well, one time, they actually did take me out to the cemetery, but then they couldn't locate the gravestone.) It was 1989 before I saw his burial plot--seven years after his death. It was a strange feeling finally being able to see it. It felt good because I finally had an idea--an image I could store to memory, along with a precise geographic location--of where in the world my great grandfather was located.
Death impacts us in such a total fashion; even when we are very young and incapable of really comprehending it, we still have some concept of its lasting impact and the brokenness and separation it creates. Every now and again, I find myself thinking about my first encounter with death and the last impact it made on me. Last week, the Queen Bee had an encounter the enemy that made me reflect upon these things.
