"It is finished," Jesus said as He pulled in His last oxygen to speak from the cross.
It is finished, I whispered as Grampie shuddered out one long gasp, his lower lip quivering before it stilled for good.
My sister-in-law and I had sat with him through the first watches of the post-midnight hours, letting our not-night-owl husbands sleep. It was not an easy shift for us. The medicine pump kept beeping so shrilly, I made FOUR phone calls to the hospice nurse who finally decided she'd come switch it for a different one. By 3:30, we were punch drunk with sleepiness and our husbands were both up. I crawled into my bed about twenty minutes later, closed my eyes and...five minutes later Beve gently touched my shoulder.
"The hospice nurse says it's close now."
We gathered around his bed, and, at his feet, I whispered, more to God than the company, "It is finished." Then said, "We should pray." So we did, thanking God for the life of this larger-than-life man, this dad who grew his kids tall with hearts big enough to fit their frames, this grandpa whose adoration of his nine grandchildren was as gigantic as everything else about him. The absolute blessing that he lived, loved and was our Grampie...that's as big as the man himself.
And now he's gone home.
I think of what heaven's gained today, and I have to smile. There's a new giant in the Throne-room, and he's singing bass in the back row of the choir!