To be honest, I wasn't at all prepared to see my grandpa in his casket. I thought I was. But, nope, I was inconsolable when I saw his lifeless body in a pinewood casket. All I could think was how much I missed him, and how cruel this world was. Why did God have to allow so much death and suffering to enter into the world? Why did it seem like the worst things happened to the greatest people? My grandpa was only 76 years old. For 2018, that wasn't very old. He should've lived a lot longer, but he didn't.
Based on what my family told me, my grandpa was his healthy old self just a week before he died. In fact, he'd spent five hours mowing the lawn in his tractor, and then several more hours outside with his youngest grandsons the Monday before Memorial Day. But, when illness got a hold of him, it dragged him down to death's door within days of setting in. Such a cruel thing should never happen to anyone, especially to someone as kind and honest as my grandpa. How could a good God allow such terrible things to happen, and still be called good?
After the Wake, I brought up my hard feelings towards God with my grandma Shirley, who had been married to my grandpa for over half a century before he passed. She told me God's timing was perfect in every way. My grandpa Bob was suffering tremendously, so God finally taking him home was the greatest act of mercy He could've shown my grandpa. Grandpa was incredibly sick and suffering from multiple organ failures. He'd fought for his life everyday for the last 36 years. He was at peace and ready to go, and Grandma was just as ready to let him go. It was excruciating for her to watch my grandpa suffer as much as he did. Had the EMTs successfully loaded him into the helicopter the morning he passed away, his wish to die on the farm surrounded by family would've not been fulfilled.
On top of that, my grandma made me realize that God took my grandpa Bob home when He knew everyone in the family could take it. Up until his death, nothing was really troubling me. I was in a good place, mentally, physically, and even spiritually. God took my grandpa away from us when He knew everyone, including myself, could handle saying goodbye. So, even if his death was abrupt and extremely distressing for everyone as a result, he couldn't have gone to heaven in a better way or at a better time. God's timing always was, is, and will be perfect, no matter what.
Even better, my grandma told me we'd all be reunited in heaven one day. I would see my grandpa again one day. After all, that's why Grandpa specifically asked in his will that the hymn God Be With You would be sung just before his casket was lowered six feet deep in God's country.
