He Left Nothing Unsaid
On December 12, 2013, I was getting into my 99’ Honda Accord to drive down the street to pick up 13-year old Ellis from swim practice. As I lowered myself into the car, I took a call from my brother-in-law Joel. It was a very short conversation. “We lost Dad.”
I’ll never forget returning home and walking into the kitchen where the eight of us collapsed on the floor, wedged into the corner of the cabinets, weeping at the sudden reality that PeePop’s was gone. Terry’s death was shocking and unexpected. He was 64, running on a treadmill at the gym, and collapsed due to a heart attack.
No one had an opportunity to talk to him; no last words or parting messages. I still have a string of text messages that I am committed to never deleting from my phone. In the last couple of text messages he informed us he was passing one of our favorite exits in Virginia: Dumfries/Manassas. We shared lots of chuckles over a town with the name “Man-asses.”
The day before he passed away, his Untappd beer app showed that he enjoyed a “Rise Up” coffee stout. We chuckled at the irony given the Christian hope Terry had of the resurrection of the dead.
We gobbled up every final memory or last words we could recount. I think this is our way of trying to retain some remnant or piece of our departed loved ones.
The sudden and unexpected death of a loved one leaves you feeling robbed of the opportunity to express your love or gratitude.
The ache of Terry’s departure is still present, but as time has marched on, we have come to realize that he left us with a beautiful gift.
He left nothing unsaid.
His wife Susan was not left wondering if he loved her, because he told her often. His kids, Gail, Jill, Joel, and Greg, had the privilege of having a Dad who was a man who often said “I love you” and told them how proud he was of each of them. Each of his grandkids who had the privilege of knowing him were loved deeply. For twenty years, as his son-in-law, I heard him express love and encouragement to me.
Yes, last words would have been nice, but we now know they were not necessary. Each one of us can reconstruct what those final conversations might have been by simply recalling the actual loving and encouraging conversations we had with Terry.
He gave us the gift of leaving nothing unsaid. Terry was a man full of the love of God and love for his family and friends, and he passionately and frequently vocalized that love. His love was never a mystery to us.
When the weather permits, our family walks every Sunday afternoon through a local cemetery. It might seem like a strange practice, but I commend it to you. The names and dates on the gravestones give you real perspective. Each of us has an appointment with the grave.
As we walk those hilly paths, I remind my kids that “every Sunday is an Easter Sunday,” meaning this holy day is one in which we remember that Jesus conquered the grave and rose from the dead. I don’t want my kids to be afraid of death.
Maybe, due to the suddenness of Terry’s passing, I am preparing them for my own passing, though I don’t know the timing of that day.
We often have a contest to see who can find Scripture verses, crosses, or any message of Christian hope on the gravestones. I have reminded my kids on a couple of those trips that I want a phrase from the Book of Common Prayer etched on my tombstone:
All of us go down to the dust; yet, even at the grave we make our song: alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.
In the midst of busy lives, often chaotic schedules, and a fraying and raging world that demands our constant attention and loyalty, I am convinced we often miss the most lasting reality in life: love.
Love is the most important legacy you will leave. Love remains. Love never fails. You should read 1 Corinthians 13 found in the New Testament.
When God came into the world in Jesus Christ, he made sure that we knew that God is the Father who loves us. Jesus left nothing unsaid.
“In the midst of busy lives, often chaotic schedules, and a fraying and raging world that demands our constant attention and loyalty, I am convinced we often miss the most lasting reality in life: love.”
When you leave this earth, your family will not be comforted by their remembrance of your politics, your fervor for being right, your impeccable theology, your salary, or the awards you received.
Your loved ones and friends will remember the love you shared together. They will replay over and over the words of love you spoke, will viscerally feel in their bones the embraces you gave, and will fondly remember your approving smile.
Your love will be seared on their memories and it will be a beautiful part of you that will never leave them. When you are gone, the love you gave can never be taken away from those you loved.
I can’t say that I am looking forward to death, but because of the resurrection of Jesus, I am not afraid of the grave. I believe with all of my heart that there is an age coming where we will have a family reunion together with our Lord.
For now, I am not leaving anything unsaid. I try to make sure there is not a day that goes by that Gail and each of my kids get a hug and an “I love you” from Dad. This means texting the kids at college at bedtime to say “Goodnight! I love you.” Nothing warms my heart more than hearing my own kids say to each other “I love you.”
Those three simple and powerful words are frequently spoken in our house. They are words that remain.
It should not be a mystery to your loved ones and friends how you feel about them. We need to work more love, gratitude, and encouragement into our daily rhythms.
Is there someone in your life, whose unexpected departure, would leave you with regret that you had not taken the opportunity to speak love to them? Would you regret that you stubbornly refused to patch things up?
How will you be remembered by your loved ones and friends when you are gone?
Terry gave us a gift of grace in living and dying. I’m looking forward to picking up where we left off in the age to come. For now, I am thankful he left nothing unsaid.
