22 Weeks & In Memoriam

Compared to most High School Seniors, my Spring Break trip was a bit unorthodox.

Instead of unchaperoned, south-of-the-border, blood-alcohol-testing antics, I spent my vacation alone, with my Mamaw, on a Carribean cruise. And it was a blast.

I have so many vivid memories of that trip with her.

Laughing over the poor choice of piano music (the score to Titanic) as we headed to the mandatory life-jacket drill. 

Cramming ourselves into one of those tiny cabin suites where the shower is the same space as the toilet.

Dressing to the nines for our evening meals with assigned table-mates.

Sneaking into an onboard club for a little dancing and light gambling, because nobody would question the age of a baby-faced girl with her grandmother.

And most notably--a day spent on a private beach drinking Coco Loco's, that ended in Mamaw being a bit tipsy, a bit sun-stroked, and a bit chatty...about a certain new fella in her life.

Mike.

He was the man my Mamaw would soon thereafter elope with at a little chapel in Vegas. And the man my Mamaw would spend her golden years with, after more than two decades as a feisty widow.

In my mind, I'll always remember Mike's weathered, navy tattoos, his penchant for little magic tricks, his brash but boisterous demeanor, and above all else, the undeniable twinkle to his eye.

Though hunched in his final years, his feet were firmly planted in his faith. And I have no doubt, Mike is rejoicing with his Savior in heaven this day.

And it's that very fact--both joyous and saddening--that had me crying yesterday on the way to church, as I listened to I Can Only Imagine, by Mercy Me. A song that's always been very powerful to me.

I can only imagine, when that day will come. And I find myself, standing in the sun. I can only imagine.

I can only imagine, what my eyes will see, when Your face is before me. I can only imagine.

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel? Will I dance for you Jesus; or in awe of you, be still? 

Will I stand in your presence, or to my knees, will I fall? Will I sing Halleluiah, will I be able to speak at all? I can only imagine.

I can only imagine.

Mike may not have been my grandfather, but he was the man my Mamaw chose. And that's a distinction of great honor, my friends.

May he rest in peace.

And may the rest of us remember to live each day fully, as the blessing it is.