I am human, and I don’t want to write this article. The tears fall as they have many times in the past few days.
The joy of my life has gone to be with God. He walked and talked with Him all his life, and now he stands at heaven’s gates and with a smile welcomes those who enter. Of course he has to stop and talk a little football and tell them one of his long stories. And he does this even before they are assigned their heavenly seat.
What compels me to sit here at this early hour is the fact that everything I have ever shared with another concerning heartbreak in life is jumping out at me, like I am hearing my voice way out in the distance. I am talking to someone, and yet I don’t hear them. They offer me words of comfort, and they are the same words I have shared over the years. “How strong you are, and how I admire you.” Precious and sincere words from those who love me, and yet that steadfast strength and smile is fighting to win out over the crying on the inside.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be a member of this club of those who have lost loved ones so dear that to remember at this time sends a wave of …. I cannot explain, those of you who have been here know the feeling.
Facing separation
The experience of death. It is desolate, and you long to have nothing to do with it.
And yet gazing in disbelief at the silver casket I know I must face the painful separation from one who spent his life working for God and 43 years working to make me happy, and he did. Bob Baggott is one of the reasons I can sit here this morning and share from my heart with you. When I lacked confidence, he would encourage me to go forward. I would only wish for every woman in the world to have a husband who loved and treated her as he did me all these years.
Now I go forward. I must claim all over again my words spoken to others in the midst of their sorrow, “If God is God anywhere, He has to be God in the face of death.”
And with all my heart, I believe the Scripture, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” (John 11:25)
There will be pathways for me to find peace and too go on living, but above them all I will trust God to carry me when I am afraid of life, when the road is steep. Right now, I have to crawl a little, and then perhaps walk and, in time, fly again. To be human and full of emotion is part of life. I must practice not expecting much of myself and yet to expect so much of God and to know He never has and never will let me down.
I must not keep asking, “Why?” I must do as I have told others to do. Just let God help you. Put it in His hands. Some answers we will never know, but one thing I do know: I read at one time “God is peopling eternity,” and we cannot restrict His choices. I know Bob is breathing new air, and that it is fresh and clean, celestial.
So many of you reading this have helped me and my family through the dark night of my soul. I thank you. To list all of your names would cover the entire paper. I am one most honored to be able to use this column to share my thoughts.
Secure future
And as I think about ending this, my heart cries out to go on and on. In praise of a man who taught me to love life and people. There is no need to do that. Instead, I want to thank God for what He is going to do in the future, unknown, but secure in His hands. I want to write something that will help each of you who loved him. But that, too, I must leave to God.
Bob will always be remembered as a man, strong and good, a man who gave so much to others and did the best he could in everything he did.
He’ll be remembered for his funny stories that he would always look at me and say, “You know that is the truth, don’t you, Betty?” God forgive me — I always backed him up. But you know some times I wondered myself.
My precious children and I might just write a book and call it “Baggott Bull.” We loved him and will miss him. That “bull” brought a lot of joy to our lives.
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