what a way to go

My uncle passed away last week.  We weren’t close; I never really got to know him well.  We never lived near each other.  He was married to my dad’s sister, who was 12 years older than my dad.  By the time I came along, Uncle Dick and Aunt Sandra were gone, living on some street that sounded strangely quaint and Victorian.  They’d travel to see us at Christmastime when we were younger, though I believe I’ve only seen him once in the last 20 years or so.

Uncle Dick was quirky.  He knew a lot about everything.  He could talk for hours about anything and nothing.  He loved Jesus, and knew his Bible.  He was a buyer, an accumulator of things.  If he was interested in it, he had lots of it.  Golf clubs, computer parts, gadgets and gizmos, whozits and whatzits…

Uncle Dick was generous.  He gave time and attention every time we got together.  When Uncle Dick learned that I was interested in fountain pens, he sent me his 1961 Shaeffer PFM I pen and pencil set–the set that got him through law school, he said!  And I’m fairly certain that it was me swinging his gift of a collapsible putter that brought about the untimely demise of mom’s crystal bowl on the living room table, but I was 4 or 5 at the time, so my memory may be foggy.

My dad talked to Uncle Dick’s pastor today.  Turns out he passed in his sleep, with his big black reading Bible on the bed with him, and his little pocket Bible open on his chest.  His pastor said he had a slight smile on his face, and it was obvious that he hadn’t suffered.

I suppose that’s about the best way to go.  They say everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to go right now.  I think maybe Uncle Dick did.

We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.