When Mawmaw was here she wondered about Heaven. She always wondered if those who were with Jesus could see us here on Earth. Some questions we will never know the answers to, and I just always said “I think the people in Heaven are to excited about being with Jesus.”
Then you died John Lee Cunningham, and I changed my mind.
I changed my mind because it was abrupt and awful and shattered us and the community and it shattered your wife. I have watched the things you’ve missed this year and I find myself wondering, often, is there a window from Heaven where you get to see?
Do you get to see your wife? Do you know the depth of her strength and vulnerability? Have you watched her endure day in and day out as she learns to navigate this life without you? I remember a year ago the phone calls, multiple, vividly. I remembering screaming in my van and telling the person who told me that it was a sick joke and I was mad as hell she would joke like that. I remember the look on my two oldest kids faces.
I remember the Cicadas all over everyone outside of your house John as we stood in stunned silence. Your widow looked at me and “I’m so sorry your kids have to go through this again.”
Did you watch those things, or was Heaven just too glorious and blinding?
Did you know that the next month was a blur and my life was, once again, put on pause? All the times I was at your house unsure of what to say or do, knowing my words were empty when put up against the pain and grief my friend felt.
Do you know I gave part of your name to Daisy? Daisy Lee. Daisy Rebekah Lee. She’s a comfort to us, and you would have LOVED her, like you loved all my kids. God gave us her sweet smile and personality after the tremendous grief that shook through our lives as we learned to move forward, just a little, each day.
In your life I knew you loved your wife deeply, and I knew how immensely proud you were of her. I wonder if that continues over in Heaven. I imagine you talking with Jesus after a day of watching her and how the two of you high five at her victories and hurt when she hurts. Maybe you can’t hurt in Heaven…maybe you don’t know.
All of me wants to think that you know John.
Did you watch your godson struggle with his grief? Did you see the way he insisted on being rough and punching all the men in his life in the belly, because that’s what he did with you? He clings to that memory of the day you and Kackie took him to ice cream and the thrift store. He says he wants to name his son John. He can think of no higher calling than to be someone’s Dad, and to “play like Uncle John.”
Your death ripped through us all like the worst Earthquake any of us have ever endured and the entire community suffered aftershocks.
Yet still…I know Heaven is better. I know you’re whole and complete and spending every day of eternity with the Savior you love. We all somehow managed to survive the year without even though every single one of us woke up remembering you were gone.
I’m thankful John Lee Cunningham, for the time I had you in my life. For the memories you gave my kids, for the way you encouraged my husband, for the way you teased and made fun of me. I’m thankful for your story about Tuesdays, and how you broke into our room to save the stupid cat when Dean locked the door. I’m thankful for you unwavering determination to make sure my van didn’t blow up.
I don’t know what you can see from Heaven, but I hope sometimes you see the strength and resilience we’ve used to navigate this life without you…
I hope you can see your wife sometimes…because John…she’s the most amazing person I know. She didn’t have to forgive that man who made that choice that led to your death. But she did. She didn’t have to wake up every day and still chose to love the Lord and carry your legacy. But she does.
We miss you a ton John. We really do. But I know Heaven is better. I really do.
See ya there one day Buddy….
