farewell to my gpa Makanesi

laying in bed feeling sick when the phone rings. my husband tells me my gpa has just passed away. i stay in bed partly cuz i am in shock but mostly because I do not want it to be real. i go to the living room and tell my kids to get ready to go to the hospital, but i cannot let the words out of my mouth that he has passed. we get ready and are in the car before my husband tells them. then as we are driving we get a call from Pou that dad's in the hospital as well for stomach pain. get to IHC and enter gap's room to find kaeevan and Ellen standing and crying by his bedside. i can't control the tears, but yet I am happy that he's no longer in pain and that he's back w/gma Lily. his skin is still warm and he looks peaceful. we then take the kids and go to see dad. i enter his room and he tries to smile but I bend down to kiss his cheek and start to cry saying "I'm sorry about your dad". i can feel his tears and staggered breathing under me.this is the first time I've ever seen him cry in my 39 yrs here in my life. i can still hear him saying "Te….ti?!" the Dr comes in and says sorry and then says dad can go see his dad. i know theres too many people in gpa's room but i want to be w/dad. we walk with him and can feel the stares of others as we go down the hallway w/my 3 kids Justin and Keai. dad goes in to say bye to gpa. such a heavy heart to see dad say farewell to gpa. dad's always worried bout work, the kids' jackets for winter and about this dad more than anything else. thank you gpa for teaching me that families are forever and that Jesus is the Christ.

Jeffrey R Holland Rejoicing in Reunion I recall a few years ago seeing a drama enacted at the Salt Lake International Airport. On this particular day, I got off an airplane and walked into the terminal. It was immediately obvious that a missionary was coming home because the airport was full of conspicuous-looking missionary friends and missionary relatives. I tried to pick out the immediate family members. There was a father who did not look particularly comfortable in an awkward-fitting and slightly out-of-fashion suit. He seemed to be a man of the soil, with a suntan and large, work-scarred hands. There was a mother who was quite thin, looking as if she had worked very hard in her life. She had in her hand a handkerchief—and I think it must have been a linen handkerchief once, but now it looked like tissue paper. It was nearly shredded from the anticipation only the mother of a returning missionary could know. Two or three younger brothers and sisters were running around, largely oblivious to the scene that was unfolding. I found myself wondering as to who would be first to break away from the welcoming group. A look at the mother’s handkerchief convinced me that she would probably be the one. As I sat there, I saw the returning missionary appear. I knew he was the one by the squeals of excitement from the crowd. He looked like Captain Moroni, clean and handsome and straight and tall. Undoubtedly he had known the sacrifice this mission had meant to his father and mother. As he neared the group, sure enough, someone couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t the mother, and it wasn’t any of the children. It was Father. That big, slightly awkward, quiet, and bronzed giant of a man ran out and swept his son into his arms. The missionary was probably 6′2″ (188 cm) or so, but this big father grabbed him, lifted him off the ground, and held him for a long, long time. He just held him and said nothing. The boy put both arms around his dad, and they just held each other very tightly. It seemed like all eternity stood still. It was as if all the world had gone silent out of respect for such a sacred moment. And then I thought of God the Eternal Father watching His Son go out to serve, to sacrifice when He didn’t have to do it, paying His own expenses, so to speak, costing everything He had saved all His life to give. At that precious moment, it was not too difficult to imagine that Father speaking with some emotion to those who could hear, “This is my Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17). And it was also possible to imagine that triumphant returning Son saying, “It is finished” (John 19:30). “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46).