Saturday, March 13, 2010
I was still lying awake at 1:00 this morning, thinking about how this day began one year ago. One year. It doesn’t seem possible. And yet, in some ways, it seems like more time has passed. Because one year is a long time to live without this sweet lady when you have had the pleasure of having her in your life for twelve years.
Shortly after 1:00 a.m. we got a call from Winn’s dad asking how far down the road we were, saying we should hurry, that she was in a lot of pain. And I will never forget the words Winn said next, the gift he gave to his mom that night. “Tell her she can go. She doesn’t have to wait for us.” And I remember how helpless we felt, knowing we were still too far away, already speeding through the night, held captive by distance. We had come back home for a couple days, to check on things and get a few changes of clothes. But 300 miles is a great chasm when death sneaks up on you, sooner than you were ready for it. The next phone call from Winn’s brother, dreaded but expected, came just an hour and a half later. Sherill had breathed her last.
In another 60 miles or so we arrived there, and although she was still warm when I touched her face, her beautiful soul was with her Creator, finally free from the ugly cancer. And that thought got us through the days ahead. And still gets us through.
I love and miss you, Sherill. I can’t wait to see you again "in the sweet by and by, when we meet on that beautiful shore.”