Grazing the Dead - Part III

copyright 2005 by Blake Lamar

“Grandpa told me once that he wondered if Jesus looked anything like any of those pictures people put on their walls. I guess he can see for himself now.”

“I don’t think we can begin to imagine what Jesus looks like in His glory at the right hand of the Father. I imagine an angel so bright you can’t look upon Him with human eyes, even at a distance. But you rest assured that Grandpa can see Him now, and perhaps shining almost as bright. Now it will do you good to eat some of those eggs before they get too cold.”

Benjamin ate a few bites and sipped his milk, but it wasn’t long before he was back in his room, crying fresh tears and secretly begging God to let Grandpa come back, if only for a few more days, so he could hug him one more time and say goodbye.

“Lunch is ready,” his mother said, peeking through his bedroom door. “I made chicken and cheese soup, heavy on the cheese the way you like it.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

“This is what I was telling you about earlier, Benny,” she said. “Grandpa wouldn’t want you dying for his sake. You’re too young for your heart to break like that. And I know I haven’t made you work too hard for it to wear out just yet.”

“I don’t want to,” he said. “Can’t you just let me be sad for little while. I don’t feel like trying to force food down my throat right now.”

“Just have a taste, and I’ll bet you’ll want more.”

“I don’t want a taste. I don’t want more.”

“Darling, I thought after our talk this morning you would be okay with things.”

“Well, I’m not. And I don’t see how you’re so calm about the situation, either.”

“Don’t you dare say that. I feel like a million shattered pieces inside just like you do, but one of us has to be strong. And I can’t let that fall on you.”

“Then I’m weak and you’re strong. Can’t it just be okay for things to stay that way right now.”

She sighed deep and heavy. “It’ll be in the fridge if you want to heat some up later.”