I learned of our friend Paul’s cancer the day before my flight to England, by way of an email from his wife, my good friend Becky. We lived next door to each other for 22 years until our family moved out of state a year ago. Their three children and our youngest four grew up playing in adjacent yards, forming happy friendships in the process. Separating from these great neighbors was the most difficult part of our move.

Becky and I shared a love for being stay-at-home moms and found our school commitments were twice as fun if we did them together. Paul and Nate had much in common, too, owning their own businesses and working hard at them. Both men put their families ahead of themselves and also enjoyed neighborly conversations about politics and the economy.

When Paul and Becky learned he had cancer, they also learned it was everywhere inside of him, and except for radiation, nothing would help. Their sons rushed home from their colleges, and their daughter stayed home from high school. They camped in the master bedroom, spending as much time together as possible, which turned out to be just three weeks.

Paul was a spectacular dad who loved orchestrating good times. He flew planes, rode motorcycles, drove SUVs before they were popular and wore cowboy boots every day. He also had a heart for the down-and-outers of society, alcoholics, abandoned women, the homeless. He was generous in his giving of time and money, and Becky has heard one story after another about his selfless help.

In Paul’s last days, he found comfort in the words of John 10, which Becky read aloud to him again and again. He especially loved the part about the Good Shepherd speaking to his sheep and the sheep recognizing his voice. Today Paul has audibly heard the Shepherd’s voice and has followed him through the gate and right into paradise. Amidst the many losses, this one great gain brings his family deep comfort.

Becky and I spent Sunday afternoon together, sharing our sorrows and identifying unnumbered similarities in the last weeks of our husbands’ lives. Because earthly death was in God’s plans for both Paul and Nate, widowhood was in his plans for Becky and me. As she was seeking God’s sustenance in the days immediately following Paul’s death she said, “God called each day ‘good’ in the Bible, and I believe he wants me to do the same. So every morning I wake up and say, ‘This will be a good day.’ ”

Paul had not been afraid to die, despite great pain. Even as  breathing became a struggle, he rested in the knowledge of where he would wake up after his final breath. Nurses testify that patients without a relationship with the Lord hang onto life at all costs. For Paul (and also Nate), the assurance of an afterlife with Jesus dispelled all fear, and neither one of them resisted death when it arrived.

One of Paul’s boys told me, “Our two families will have a stronger bond than ever now, having gone through such similar trials. And even though we don’t live next door to each other anymore, Paul and Nate have become neighbors again… in a much, much better neighborhood.”

“I am the good Shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.” (John 10:14-15)

Our family has spent Memorial Day at Chicago’s Rosehill Cemetery for many decades. Not once have we been rained on… until today.

Standing under umbrellas in a downpour, several people shared thoughts from their hearts. Although we usually talk about the lives of those buried there (the first one 99 years ago), today our sharing was all about Nate. It’s been nearly seven months since his funeral, and he’s the seventh family member to be laid to rest in this plot.

As we stood in the rain, I knew my shivering had nothing to do with being wet and everything to do with missing Nate. Bervin quoted Romans 12:12, “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer,” describing ways Nate had modeled this in front of all of us. Mary shared his favorite Scripture from Hebrews 12 about Jesus enduring his suffering, knowing joy would come later. She commented on Nate’s suffering being over, and the joy he now knows.

My nephew Luke told how much he appreciated Nate’s knowledge of history and the fact that he knew something about everything, an interesting person to talk to. Another Luke, like-a-nephew, mentioned talking with Nate last Memorial Day on this spot, realizing for the first time how great his back pain had become. He admired Nate’s not having taken a pass on the cemetery event but choosing to be present and participating, without complaint.

My brother Tom described how he’d known Nate well after sharing office space with him for 19 years. He’d watched him go through ups and downs in business and personal finance, sometimes becoming discouraged but never giving up. Having met each of Nate’s law clients since his death, Tom reported how much respect they all held for him and shared positive client comments. He also described a giant box of “show and tell” items he’d brought to share with us over lunch.

When it was my turn to talk, I read a verse from Ecclesiastes that compares controlling the wind with controlling the arrival of death. Neither can be done. Thankfully the control of both is in the flawlessly capable hands of Jesus Christ.

While crying, part of me was thinking, “I can’t believe my husband is dead and buried!” But the rest of me was feeling lifted and loved by the words being spoken. Mary finally said, “The weather is weeping, too, but we know this rain isn’t an accident. Maybe God knew it would be a sad Memorial Day and is helping us keep it short.” We moved to the cars and headed for our picnic, indoors at a local McDonald’s rather than our regular park location nearby.

Tom’s box contained Nate’s leather jacket and personal items from his desk and file cabinets, including unnumbered family pictures, artwork from our children’s grade school years, framed degrees and Elvis paraphernalia.

Two phone texts came through in the middle of our day together, one from Nelson in Africa and the other from Linnea in Florida, both promising Memorial Day prayer and describing strong family bonds that reached across thousands of miles. An email from Hans and Katy had accomplished the same. So, all of us were present and accounted for, including Nate… via sweet memories.

“No man has power over the wind to contain it; so no one has power over the day of his death.” (Ecclesiastes 8:8a)