The last of something often sneaks up and catches us from behind when we're not looking.
My younger brother died this morning. While he had special needs and health problems that were a constant source of concern and care, there was no indication that this was coming.
All of a sudden, without realizing it was coming, we had just seen him for the last time.
Suddenly, this was the last feeding; the last putting to bed; his last time at church; his last car ride; his last bath; his last touch. We're sad and grieving at the lasts that have just occurred.
But it was also the start of firsts for him. For the first time in his life, his body works the way it was supposed to. He took his first look at Jesus this morning; his first leaps for joy; his first words; his first time talking and laughing with family members who were miscarried or stillborn; his first time using his hands, feet, and mind to their full capacity.
Death leaves everyone shocked, even though it's expected to happen at some point for all. Another brother of mine said it well, "We expect to die, just not today."
Death leaves a scar on loved ones. Time covers over the raw pain, but the mark remains forever. Time passes before us, filled with many happy moments. We need to make those memories while we can.
Today has been a blur of emotions and pain mixed with joy on his account. Our hearts are broken especially for my parents. Losing a child is a unique sort of pain that only those who have experienced it can really appreciate.
I know that our Redeemer lives, and today, March 15th, 2020, my brother, Jordan Isaac Slack, is redeemed.