My Uncle Eli had been sick for a long time. His hands were so gnarled with arthritis they were virtually useless. At 91, his body was simply giving out. All except his mind and his hearing. Both were as sharp and acute as ever. But finally he got his wish: to join his darling Amanda who had left him three years earlier when she passed on into real life.
When I was notified I immediately knew I wanted to make the trip to Florida to say good-bye. And as things went, it all worked out. I got the last plane ticket available at a super low price on one of those internet cheap ticket sites. Two of my cousins were on the same plane so I hitched a ride to the airport with them. One of their daughters lives in Florida, so I had a ride at the other end as well. Ohio friends with a business in Florida had a car available for me to use. And my Florida cousins offered us their recently vacated house to stay in while we were there.
I don't particularly enjoy flying. It involves too many people in too small a space for too long. And they won't open any windows so the air is stale. Plus it's a really long way down if anything goes wrong. The one hour, unexplained delay at the Cleveland airport did not help my nerves any. I was imagining everything from hung-over pilots to bomb-sniffing dogs with my stomach getting tighter by the minute. Then I heard my name paged overhead.
"Could we interest you in an exit-row seat?" the nice lady behind the counter asked me. "We are trying to arrange seating to keep another group together" Exit-row seating means a few more inches of space between me and the person in front of me. And exit-row seating means I can be one of the first ones off should I want to abandon ship. I mean, plane. I thought about my cousin Lydia and how we had managed to finagle seats together when we bought our tickets. Then I thought about those few precious inches of space. I dumped Lydia and took the switch. Visiting with a cousin I like (a lot) is no match for relief from my claustrophobia and I decided it was fate anyway. I mean, what are the odds that I would be singled out for an upgrade from all the people on that plane? It wouldn't have been right to slap that gift horse in the face.
After waiting over an hour we finally boarded the plane and I was informed by the elderly woman sitting one seat over that the problem was mechanical in nature. This did not do anything to relax my abdominal knot. She also informed me she had checked the flight manifest and the seat between us was empty. Wow. Leg room and an empty seat. She already had her bag placed there, staking claim to her half of said seat. I mentioned that my poor cousin is squished between two strangers a few rows back, but she gave me a blank stare and dared me with her eyes to try and change the situation. I wilted back into my seat and tried to deal with my guilty conscience, living in luxury while Lydia tried to keep her elbows from entering her neighbors' spaces. I dealt with it quickly and moved on.
There was a loud revving noise, unusual from any I had heard before in an airplane. The little screens that had dropped from the ceiling and were reviewing the importance of placing your own mask before helping your baby with hers suddenly retreated back to the ceiling in mid-sentence. The lights blinked on and off and all the little screens came back down and the tutorial resumed. My knot tightened.
My seat mate proved to be a great conversationalist and we visited almost the whole way. She was recovering from Cancer and had just completed chemo six months prior. The hair covering her head was curly rather than straight like before, she said. We briefly touched on politics but I quickly realized if I didn't want to fight the urge to strangle her with my bare hands the conversation needed to veer from that subject. So we talked careers. She was a retired teacher. . .who hates to read. Is conundrum the right word here? I should have asked her, I guess.
When we neared our journey's end, but before any noticeable drop in altitude, the landing gear ground out it's descent. My companion commented that that was odd; we were still far too high to lower the landing gear. I had been thinking the same thing. She had a pilot-brother and a flight-attendant daughter so her comments carried weight. My knot came back. The flight-attendant, not her daughter, kept trying to communicate with us on our progress but the intercom was buzzing and it was difficult to hear. He possessed a sense of humor which made us all laugh but I couldn't help but wonder if it was to distract us from our imminent crash landing.
We descended, made a turn, ascended and finally descended yet again, eventually landing safe and sound. I don't think I was the only passenger that felt relief to be off that particular aircraft.
My cousin's daughter Katie was waiting to pick us up and wisk us to Sarasota. Once there we connected with our loaner cars and made our way to see the Florida relatives, who greeted us with hugs and sincere welcomes all around.
I spent a week with my cousins and learned to know them in a way I had not before. We shared memories of Uncle Eli and Aunt Amanda, both of whom would have loved hearing about our shady flight in. I could almost hear them laughing when we talked about it amongst ourselves.
We talked about the times we sang together at their house, when they were too frail to be out and about. How much we all enjoyed belting out those old hymns they loved so much. The quality wasn't the best since we can't all be good singers, but we sang with gusto, nonetheless (Yes, I'm talking about myself.) My aunt and uncle spoke of heaven with anticipation and of meeting Jesus face to face in a way that made me long for it myself.
And we talked about what they must be doing now. Greeting my parents who had gone on before, as well as the parents of some of my other cousins who were there. How they must be enjoying themselves now! What a party must be happening up there! And we all speculated on what it must be like for Uncle Eli, to have strong, straight fingers once again, pain-free and dexterous. I couldn't even remember a time when they looked like that.
And, of course, best of all, they were with Jesus, the One they couldn't wait to see face to face.
My week in Florida, celebrating the lives of two people I cared about very much, was unusual by the standards of most deaths. These two people had been a great influence in my life. They demonstrated, in a very real way, their great faith in a Savior who was as real to them as anyone of flesh and blood ever was. Their passing was not a cause for deep mourning, even though they will surely be missed. The loss is all ours. The gain is all theirs.
As we walked the bridge spanning the bay separating Sarasota from Bird Key my cousin Dan and I talked about how much fun we were having and how glad Uncle Eli and Aunt Amanda would be to know that they were the reason we were all there together, enjoying ourselves. They would have been so pleased to hear our reminiscing and laughter. They would have been so gratified to know they had caused our hearts to turn heavenward. Maybe they did know. I'll ask them sometime, when I see them again.
