My father-in-law died on April 27th. Nearly 3 weeks ago. There have been extra things to do since then.
Before he died, there was visiting with him, sitting with him, cooking for him. There was much praying for him, and in his later days, much hand holding with him. All extra things to do, but different.
Then it was care and concern for a human life. Prayer for a future life.
Now it is more like taking out the trash. I've been taking out trash my whole life, so I know how to do it. But this time there's a catch -- it's not my trash. It's someone else's, and who am I to say, "This is trash, but this is worthy of keeping because he kept it"?
I am just the daughter-in-law. Not even a blood relative.
Sometimes I catch myself sounding cold and unloving -- unChristian -- about this man's detritus.
All the stuff we strive for and hold on to, and when it's all said and done someone else will cull through it all determining it's value.
So last night I met some men at his house. They were from a local church here in town. They are having a yard sale to raise money for their youth group on Saturday. They loaded up bags and boxes of my father-in-law's clothes and possessions to take for their sale. I was relieved to see the clutter walk out the door, but a little anxious too. It's gone. Irretrievable.
As they left, one man took my hand, and said, "This is a good thing you are doing. I know it's hard, but it will get better." He talked of cleaning his mother's house out after she died, and how it made him look at his life, and make some changes.
I've talked with lots of people in past few weeks I would never have talked with otherwise. And it's been good for me. I have difficulty connecting with others, but I've done pretty well so far.
And maybe that's the gift my father-in-law left to me. Not his furniture or dishes, but the opportunity to do some reconnecting. To be reminded that I am capable of handling things. Even the hard things.
For me that's the best proof of healing.
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