My friend Terrie Hill died yesterday of cancer. He had been part of our church family for 30 years. He was one of those guys you loved having in your church if you were his pastor. He helped with everything, rarely missed services, was very faithful, and never caused a conflict. He will certainly be missed. It seems like the people that I am friends with are dying at an increasingly faster rate. I think that is because I am old and most of my friends are too.
When a friend like Terrie dies, I think of it like he is on a two-month trip to Hawaii. I don’t feel bad for him; he is having a great time. I feel envious because he is there, and I am here in the cold Oregon rain. You don’t think about missing someone who will be gone for two months; you will see them soon enough. I might live 20 more years, but probably not, and if I did, looking back on 20 years of my life now seems like two months. At this very moment, Terrie has a new body that feels amazing. Lots of energy, a clear, sharp mind, lots of brown hair, skinny, no glasses, a big motorcycle (maybe), incomprehensible joy, zero problems or pressures, and so much more that we won’t know about until we get there. We tend to think about death as the end, but it is just the beginning of a brand new life and experience.
I once heard someone grieving at a funeral say,” I will never see you again.” That’s not true. I will see Terrie in two months or so. I don’t feel very sad, but I do feel very envious.