Month: November 2015

Diary of a Grieving Christian – 3 (A visit to the Funeral Directors)

I woke this morning about 5:30 with a great feeling of peace. So much so that it shocked me. I wondered if I had woken up. I wondered if it was right to feel like this. As I lay there thinking of Sue the tears came. The peace didn’t last and I eventually got up about 7:30. But I believe The Lord gave me a foretaste of His Peace this morning. He is The Prince of Peace.

But it has been another tough day. Today I went to the Funeral Directors to finalise the details of the Funeral. [7th December @ 2.00 for the burial and then @ 3.30 Lower Ford Street Baptist Church, Coventry for the Service] I’m so glad Chris (our eldest son) came with me. Chris chose the coffin and was on hand to ask questions. I wonder how I would have coped on my own. There were tears. The need to cry just comes over me with no warning at the slightest little thing or even over nothing at all. I took some clothes for her to wear (ironed by her best and closest friend Ruth) and then we were given the option of going to see her before the burial. No decision has been made.

We did so much together and went through her illness (Cancer) together that I just want her with me now to go through this together. It’s not that there is any guilt or regrets but I just want her with me. We just liked being together. We really liked being with each other. I count that as the good hand of The Lord with us to bless. God is Good.

Sue’s Birthday Today – 25/11/1955

2012-03-31 11.55.12Today has been really tough. Sue would have been 60 today. She missed it by 2 days.

We would joke about it because we are the same age then for 10 days. This year (and all the years I have to come) it is not to be.

Happy Birthday darling. I know you are safe with Jesus. I’ll be joining you soon.

I can thank God for her.

It is not death to die,
To leave this weary road,
And midst the brotherhood on high
To be at home with God.

It is not death to close
The eye long dimmed by tears,
And wake, in glorious repose,
To spend eternal years.

It is not death to bear
The wrench that sets us free
From dungeon chain, to breathe the air
Of boundless liberty.

It is not death to fling
Aside this sinful dust
And rise, on strong exulting wing
To live among the just.

Jesus, Thou Prince of Life,
Thy chosen cannot die:
Like Thee, they conquer in the strife
To reign with Thee on high.

César Malan 1787 – 1864 (Translated by George W. Bethune 1806-62)

Diary of a Grieving Christian – 2 (Someone Died Last night)

I’ve been challenged (in my own mind) about how I’m going to do these. I will have to be honest about how I feel, otherwise, they will be of no use. I’ll also need to discuss at some point along the way about how things feel and about how they actually are. So there’s going to be some theology along the way too.

The other thing is, I’m not sure how many or how often I will do these but following is a post I started some while ago when someone died in the next room. This has present relevance as you will see from my comment at the end.

Someone died last evening and I have to say it was quite distressing. Sue has been at the Hospice since Monday but is hoping to leave today (Thursday 2/4/15) and I will pick her up straight after work. We are just talking together when all off a sudden there was a lot of nurses running in the corridor followed shortly by a terrible sound of wailing and crying. It was distressing for Sue because she didn’t want us to be like that. I said ‘its right and normal to be upset but we don’t grieve as others that have no hope’. I got the sense that the death in the next room was a hopeless one. I may be wrong but that grief was a hopeless grief. In fact, I said ‘that is the sound of despair’. Sue was again reminded of her death. I then read Mr Spurgeon for that evening – a gospel message. I then prayed with Sue and Lydia. We hugged. All the while the sound of crying and loud wailing was coming from the corridor and the room next door. It was about 8.00. PM. Sue wants to die at home. And I want to make it happen for her. I am sad when I think she will not be with me. We planned on getting old together. The Lord has another plan. I haven’t cried in a while, but I will. Sue said ‘I want to die at home in the presence of God’. I’d like to think the lady that died did that – but I don’t think so.

That was never posted, until now. But as I read it now…. Sue did die at home in the presence of God. And it was a death FULL of Hope. We watched her take her very last breath in this life and she was gone. I then stood at the end of the bed with my daughter and said ‘remember the lady and her family at the hospice, this isn’t like that at all’. We wept. But we wept in hope. [I’ll have to do a brief post on Hope because what the Bible means by Hope isn’t what the world means: there is quite literally a world of difference.] You can see how relevant the post is now – as I can. We thank God for His Grace.

Diary of a Grieving Christian – Introduction

Copy of 2012-03-31 11.59.26Susan Margaret Iliff 25/11/1955 – 23/11/2015. Forever with The Lord.

The love of my life, Sue, died yesterday at 1:30 in the afternoon. That is to starkly state the cold hard fact. Another fact however, is that Sue has gone to be with her Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ.

We were married for 32 years. We were best friends as well as husband and wife. We did everything together and pretty much went everywhere together. Even if I were nipping to the shops, she would say ‘hang on I’ll put my shoes (sometimes slippers) on and I’ll come with you’. That’s how it was. We loved each other deeply. What a blessed marriage we had. A true gift from God. Sue was the most wonderful person and a Godly wife.

I’m going to write about the process of my grief and other things I’ve learnt along the way. I’m doing it for two reasons. 1. It will be cathartic and a record. So it’s for me, to help me get through this horrible time. 2. I pray it will be of some benefit to others that might be going through a similar time. So it’s for others.

I’m not sure how far back I’ll go just yet, but I have made a few odd notes along the way since we were told the terminal diagnosis. I’ll leave it there for now.

Grief might do weird things to me. So if all the posts suddenly disappear I hope you will understand.