Softly and tenderly, he holds her hand, caresses her face, and kisses her lips. Her eyes blink and she moans, as if to say, "I love you too".
Her body is failing and she waits, with arms and legs too weak to move and words that no longer come. We came to say goodbye and, oh, how it hurts.
Softly and tenderly, we sing the hymns she so loves, the sweet melody filling the room with an unexpected peace. For in the eb and flow of the melody, there is hope.
My daughter curls up in my arms, with her heart exposed in the tears glistening her eyes and the way she clings to me. She listens to my voice, but, the girl who always has a song to sing and a dance to perform, can't seem to find her own.
Softly and tenderly, we sing to the grandma we love of Jesus who loves us, who is strong when we are weak. The simple truth of a childhood favorite calms her whimpers and relaxes her shaking arm.
Friends come to join our circle, their voices and the plucking tune of a guitar blending perfectly with ours. The room heavy with grief is covered with grace from the God whose power is displayed throughout the universe.
Softly and tenderly, the melody changes as we remember that death was overcome and this is not the end. We say goodbye for now, but there is One who binds us together calling her home where there are no more goodbyes.
We gather round closer to her bedside as the music fades, hands joined together. With heavy hearts, we lift both praises and sorrows to the One who knows and cares for every one of our needs, grateful for the hope and joy that can only be found in Him.
Softly and tenderly, one by one, we say goodbye, until we meet again. Kissing her forehead and holding her hand, I look into the eyes of the grandma I have loved, one last time.
Slowly, I walk away and wonder if I said all the words I wanted to say. I hold back tears, but my body is quivering with grief from too many goodbyes in too short a time.
Softly and tenderly, my husband leans in to kiss her too and I watch as he whispers his goodbye. As he walks away, I see the tears he is fighting against, trying to be strong, while his heart is as heavy as my own.
My daughter gently grabs my hand and looks into my eyes with a longing to understand it all and a need to say her own goodbye. I lift her into my arms, watching as she kisses her and listening as she whispers so sweetly, "I love you, grandma".
Softly and tenderly, my son places his hand in mine, asking me without words to help him say goodbye too. He follows his sisters example and I can barely see through the tears clouding my eyes as he whispers his own "I love you, grandma".
Walking out that door is one of the hardest things I've ever done. It never, ever gets easier, but it always, always makes His hope sweeter.
Because, softly and tenderly, I remember, through tear-stained cheeks and grief-torn heart, that hope changes everything. And, oh, how I look forward to that day when pain and sorrow will be no more.
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