Losing those we love

I've been wanting to write this post for a few weeks now and finally have the book to quote what I wanted to quote. But it fits the thoughts and feelings of my heart today, as I just learned this morning that a sweet friend of mine lost her sister to an illness this weekend.
The quote is from one of my favorite childhood books, "Emily of New Moon," by L.M. Montgomery. Eleven year-old Emily's father is sick and about to pass away. He knows that his time is almost up and he teaches her a little about death.

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"We'll stay together to the very end, then, little Emily. child. We won't be parted for a minute. And I want you to be brave. You mustn't be afraid of anything, Emily. Death isn't terrible. The universe is full of love-and spring comes everywhere-and in death you open and shut a door. There are beautiful things on the other side of the door. I'll find your mother there-I've doubted many things, but I've never doubted that. Sometimes I've been afraid that she would get so far ahead of me in the ways of eternity that I'd never catch up. But I feel now that she's waiting for me. And we'll wait for you-we won't hurry-we'll loiter and linger till you catch up with us."
"I wish you-could take me right through the door with you," whispered Emily.
"After a little while you won't wish that. You have yet to learn how kind time is. And life has something for you-I feel it. Go forward to meet it fearlessly, dear. I know you don't feel like that just now-but you will remember my words by and by."
"I feel just now," said Emily, who couldn't bear to hide anything from Father, "that I don't like God any more."
Douglas Starr laughed-the laugh Emily liked best. It was such a dear laugh-she caught her breath over the dearness of it. She felt his arms tightening round her.
"Yes, you do, honey. You can't help liking God. He is Love itself, you know. You mustn't mix Him up with Ellen Greene's God, of course."
Emily didn't know exactly what Father meant. But all at once she found that she wasn't afraid any longer-and the bitterness had gone out of her sorrow, and the unbearable pain out of her heart. She felt as if love was all about her and around her, breathed out from some great, invisible, hovering Tenderness. One couldn't be afraid or bitter where love was-and love was everywhere. Father was going through the door-no, he was going to lift a curtain-she liked that thought better, because a curtain wasn't as hard and fast as a door-and he would slip into that world of which the flash had given her glimpses. He would be there in its beauty-never very far away from her. She could bear anything if she could only feel that Father wasn't very far away from her-just beyond that wavering curtain.

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I have always loved that depiction of passing from this world to the next. A curtain is such a beautiful metaphor, it is soft and gives you the feeling that you are not so far away from those you love who have passed on. The following poem is another beautiful view on death. While we mourn the passing on of those we love, there are those who rejoice to be reunited with them.


Parable of immortality ( A ship leaves . . . )
by Henry Van Dyke - 1852 - 1933

I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a peck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says :
- 'There she goes!

Gone where?
Gone from my sight - that is all.

She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says:
- 'There she goes! ',
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
- 'Here she comes!'

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I have been thinking about life and death a lot this year. No one in my immediate family has passed away this year, but I have had friends lose children and family members. I have been blessed to learn through the faith and strength of those who have had this trial to bear. I love them and pray for them and admire their ability to mourn and then find the courage to move on. I feel blessed to know the plan of salvation, to know that this life is not the end. May we mourn with those who mourn. Even the Savior mourned the loss of loved ones and He understood the plan of salvation better than we do.

Ten years ago my grandfather, Immo Luschin, passed away. I was very close to him and had the blessing of knowing him my whole childhood and into my college years. He was one of my most important gospel mentors. He was a scriptorian and would teach me things about the gospel that have always stayed with me. He would have me hold the scriptures and would tell me where to turn and read it to him and then we would discuss things.
Grossvati (German for Grandpa) joined our church as an adult, a husband with a family of four children. The missionaries from our church knocked on my grandparent's door in Graz, Austria in 1960. Our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, answered his questions about life after death and the ability to be with his wife for ever, a deep desire he hoped for but had not found in his own faith. He joined our church and went on to become a temple president in Switzerland and a professional translator for the church, translating the Book of Mormon and other scriptures, many famous doctrinal works by general authorities and even participated in live translation when Apostles and Prophets would come to speak to the Saints in Europe.
My grandfather lived in difficult times. He lived through World War II and had several miraculous experiences where his life was preserved. We know he was spared from death during those years so that he could join the church later, serve in many capacities and be part of our spiritual and physical heritage.
My husband and I were dating when he passed away. I had often hoped he would be the one to seal me when I got married, but he died a year too soon. I was also sad that Warren and Grossvati wouldn't meet in this life, although I've talked so much about him that Warren feels like he knows him. I know he has just gone through the veil and is waiting for us.

I know we will be with those we love again someday.