Letting Go

This is my favorite picture of Ryan’s mom and dad. They look young and relaxed. Happy. Apparently excited over their brand new circa-1976 television model. :-) It’s a sweet moment in time -- a split second of their lives that was captured on camera. I wonder what was in the envelope….was it a birthday card?Warranty information? The mystery of the envelope is part of what I like about this photo.  I also like the goofy, almost giddy, grin on Ryan’s dad’s face that he’s upgrading his home technology. He always liked the latest “gadget.”

I never had the pleasure of meeting Ryan’s mom, and it is hard for me to think about her without crying. She died of cancer when Ryan was 13. My heart breaks when I think of their little family…of a young, angry Ryan escaping the mourning household and running through the crusty Canadian snow to the park down the street so he could cry and yell and be alone in his grief. It makes me so sad.

I did get to meet Ryan’s dad, however. We were sophomores in high school when he became the new science  and computer teacher at our school. He was my teacher for three years. We dissected frogs in biology class, had fun with Bunsen burners, and learned our way around PCs from the early 1990s. He let us use the computers in the lab to create our own school newspaper. Always, always, Mr. Moore’s enthusiasm for science and technology lit up the room; he truly enjoyed what he did for a living, and for the first time, we were actually learning something.

At the same time, I was slowly falling in love with Mr. Moore’s quiet, good-looking, bookish, and witty son Ryan. :-)

I don’t remember when exactly I stopped calling him Mr. Moore and started calling him Ron, but I’m pretty sure it was sometime after Ryan and I got married. He was the best man in our wedding.  It was Ron who taught Ryan how to think outside of the box (Pooh the Winnie, and the Easter Pig). It was Ron who suggested “Ryley” be our daughter’s first name. It was Ron who suggested that maybe God’s plans are such for Ryley that she requires our full parenting attention at this time in her life and maybe that’s why we haven’t been able to have more kids as of yet. It was Ron who called me up within the last year to tell me how much my writing touched him and how he knew God had specific plans for Ryan and me as a writing team. He always, always, always believed in us. All of us.

And now, it’s hard to believe he’s gone. Though the last three months have been a roller coaster ride of emotion and anxiety and acceptance and pain, I think we all believed that the worst was behind us. Our prayers had been focusing more on the restoration of his mind because we all thought his heart was out of danger. He seemed to be making very small progress, but at least it was progress. After everything he had been through and survived, we didn’t actually think he would die anymore.

And then, as we were sitting in a movie theater on a date on a Saturday night after a wonderful family day, our phones started lighting up with text messages from Ryan’s sisters, begging us to please call them. And 24 hours later, while Ryan sat on a plane awaiting take-off on his connecting flight to Florida, we learned that his dad was gone.

All of the anguish of the last few months came spiraling to a head, and suddenly it was over. Peace.

It’s still hard to believe. I don’t know that it’s completely sunk in for any of us, the finality of it all. My heart breaks when I think that Ryan will never have another conversation with his father…that Ryley will never get to tell her grandpa all about the Mars Rover like she had planned…that he won’t get to watch her grow up or meet any of the other kids that we may have someday.

It’s hard to accept that yesterday was Ron’s last day on Earth…that his entire life ended there…that it was always meant to end there…that God knew it would end there.

“All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.” – Psalm 139:16

And yet, somehow, the fear of loss is almost worse than the loss itself, isn’t it? I felt almost release….relief… that he is no longer in pain. No longer agitated. No longer confused. Do I feel intense sadness? So much. Am I crying? Can’t stop. But also, completely unexplainably, there’s peace that passes all comprehension.

And I think, “This is it. This is the moment I have been dreading for years. The worst has happened, and we’re still here. We’re functioning somehow.”

We don’t have to mourn as those who have no hope.  We rejoice that we will see both of his parents again one day.

Thank You, Jesus.

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Ryley’s coping mechanism is sewing, apparently. She received the machine as a gift from Justin and Aly for her birthday, and my aunt Coleen has been teaching her use it.

After Ryan held her on Sunday and she cried about Grandpa’s impending passing, she pulled out her sewing machine and started to make things.

Here is the welcome home gift she’s made for her daddy…

I’m sure he will cherish it forever. :-)

Please pray for continued peace for Ryan, Ron’s beloved wife (of 10 years) Linda, and Ryan’s siblings Gwen, Rhonda, Derrick, and Teresa.

God’s grace is indeed sufficient.