The other day when I went to the mortuary in New Hall to make arrangement for Tante Agnes’ funeral, I was reminded of how far it is from Monrovia to Santa Clarita, where Tante Agnes used to reside in—almost an hour-drive! I thought about her consistency—she was never late in showing up early for our Wednesday’s Bible Study and Sunday services. And how she always insisted on driving straight to home fellowships instead of carpooling at church. She enjoyed the driving as much as the fellowships, but now is time to rest, Tante.
After the passing of Tante Gwie, Oom Kiat has been weaker. It is as if half of his soul had been taken out of him. When his family and I were making the funeral plan, he was just there, sitting at the table. He told me that everyday Tante Gwie and he used to sit at the backyard garden. In fact, just the other day they happened to talk about who would “go” first. Knowing his condition, Oom thought he would go first. But Tante Gwie was certain that she would go first, even though she was relatively healthy for her age—94. Well, it turned out that she was right. God decided to take her first.
Last week we grieved their deaths; this week we prepared for their funerals; and beginning from next week, we will be attending their burials. Weeks that we do not look forward to but have no choice but face them because they will come to our loved ones. Which reminds me of Lazarus. There was the day in which he was sick; there was the day in which he died; and there was a day in which he was buried. During those days Jesus was not there—He was silent.
He came four days after Lazarus had died—too late! Unbeknownst to Martha and Mary, it would be the day of his resurrection. After the days of burial—both of Tante Gwie and Tante Agnes—we, too, can look to the day of resurrection. What a day that will be!