The Giant with the Big Hair

It is strange how, when I was pleading with God not to take any more loved ones from us and named every person I could think of in a prayer, this thought entered my mind:
The next person to go will be one you hadn't mentioned.

And soon, off the family had to go to another funeral... I couldn't go along due to exams and I wish I could have.

I remember him. I haven't seen him in a long, long time, but I remember how close our families were when I was a little kid and we lived in the same town. I remember how I loved visiting them, how his booming voice would echo around the braai-area.

I remember how hard they tried for a baby and how ecstatic he was when his son was born.
Dad was real good friends with him and it hurt me so to hear his voice crack over the phone. In a way I am glad that I wasn't here when the news came - I couldn't stand another memory of my parents receiving terrible news...

I look at the funeral handout. Not the usual one-page-foldover; this one is thick with letters from people who loved this giant.

He loved the outdoors, animals and camping; his family, his six-string Yamaha, making delicious dishes, motorbikes... I didn't know these things, but it's all here in the handout.

I cannot believe that Pappa visited this family for two days just before the heart attack happened... He says that on Thursday morning when he greeted them, this dear man told him to visit again soon. If only Pappa had known it was the last time he would talk to him.

Friday night - death after a heart attack and a coma. He was not your typical heart-problem candidate - he loved the outdoors and activity for heaven's sake - but neither was he a fitness freak. So unexpected.

He has a wife. A lovely wife and a darling 13-year-old son.

I cry when I think of the funeral. I can imagine the tears, the mother and son sitting next to each other, their grief tangible. In his letter, the boy writes, "Every day when I look into the heavens above, I see your beautiful, loving and caring face and that's how it will always be. I will look after our family and friends, especially Mom. I will keep her safe."

Then I read What will matter by Michael Josephson:

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten
will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will finally disappear.
So too, your hopes, ambitions, plans and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won't matter where you came fromor what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.
It won't matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.
Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter?
How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought but what you built,
not what you got but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.
What will matter is every act of integrity,
compassion,
courage,
or sacrifice
that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.
What will matter is not your memories but the memories that live in those who loved you.
What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident.
It's not a matter of circumstance but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.

The handout says that he bought take-aways for street children. It tells of the many societies and organizations he supported. It tells of the love for his family. His Sunday School Class. His attention to the elderly... it is a long list.

And I know this: none of us know what his opinions were on theological debates, his stances on manuscripts and denominations and the end of times. Bu what we do know is the he LOVED.
I was told a while ago that the reason love for God is the most important commandment, is because if you love God you will automatically be adhering to all other commandments and ways of the Christian lifestyle.

I want to be like that. I want to do small good deeds and touch people's lives. When I die one day (hopefully not soon) I don't want people to talk about my brilliant brain... I want them to talk about the good that I did.

I am so sad for this loss, for the tragedy of death.

But I appreciate the inspiration that this Giant with the Big Hair has now been for me and others - his last great deed before joining the palace of his Creator.