Nine yeaars ago, he beat cancer, this man who was a friend like no other.  People all across the country and around the world were praying for him.  Four weeks ago he had pneumonia, but he’d had pain even longer than that.  Some unexplained, other from neuropathy.  He had trouble breathing.  He was a strong man and like a second dad for me, and a spare grandpa to our boys.  He was the Patriarch of his own large and scattered family and of an extended adopted family that was so vast no one knows how far-flung it reaches.  The joke in the family is “you better know who you’re dating, you might be kin to ’em”.  She babysits kids and together they have touched many a life.  They would have made a perfect Mr. and Mrs. Santa, though we could never talk them into getting the suits.

A week and a half ago he had a heart attack.  Then surgery, and he had come home, only to develop complications overnight.  It was back to the hospital the next morning, and we knew.  That’s when they came.  By two, three, four at a time. All day and into the wee hours, well over a hundred of his family, friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, to say their goodbyes without saying them. He was alert to the end, other than when he slept, and knew everyone and spoke to them by name.  In the early dawn hours, they were alone together for a while.  By shortly after sun-up  he was greeting his Savior and a host of loved ones who had gone before him.  She never left his side.  Theirs was a marriage rare as the fashions of a bygone era.  She’d loved him since she was nine years old.  He caught on six years later, married 62 years and they have rarely spent  24 hours apart from one another.  Over the coming days, there was a steady flow of people to the house.  At the viewing/visitation a hundred more.  The funeral itself was the most amazing happy funeral I have ever been to, even though we were crying, we laughed as much or more, as memories were recalled, tales were told.  Heads were shaking, people were interjecting, “yeah, that sounds like him” and “that’s Johnny for ya”.  The chapel was overflowing.

There will never be another one like him.  He loved the Lord with all his heart, invited everyone to church, knew his Bible well, and trusted His Savior wholly.  He was stubborn, gruff on the exterior, but my nickname for him was Tootsie-Pop because I knew he was all soft and sweet in the middle.  He pretended like he didn’t like it.  Every time he greeted me it was with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  It doesn’t seem like he is gone.  Maybe because I know where he is, and really do anticipate the Lord’s return soon, or maybe because he was one of those characters that is “larger than life”.   She’s doing okay.  I mean, really okay!   We will all be there for her, and she has a strong faith like his.  They both were aways humble, generous to a fault, accepting and tolerant and loving toward everyone they ever met.  What a privilege to have known this man.  What a blessing he has been in our lives.  He will be missed, but we will be ever thankful for the years we were privileged to know him.  Hug Jesus for me, will ya Johnny?

Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.  Psalm 116:15