“The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” —1 Corinthians 15:26
There’s a man in the next room. I’m not sure how much time he has. I only know I’m hearing the breath of someone preparing to meet God. Each gasp a prayer. Each restless turn a psalm of the body yearning to be freed from itself.
And here I am, just a room away, clutching a soccer ticket in one hand and the mystery of mortality in the other.
How strange it is—how human—to be caught between life and death. To be grateful for earthly blessings while witnessing the thinning veil of eternity just beyond your foyer. One moment I’m relishing the idea of cheering on my favorite team… the next, I’m reckoning with the quiet surrender of a soul returning home.
Is it wrong to feel joy in the living while watching someone die? Or is it mercy?
Is it selfish to attend a match while another can no longer stand?
Or is it reverence—living well in their stead?
The truth is, I don’t know. I just know that this isn’t mine to hold forever. None of it is. Not the breath, not the bed, not even the body. And perhaps the real question isn’t what do I lose when someone dies, but what do I gain in the living that remains?
Today, I heard the holy sound of struggle—the body’s final attempts to stay rooted to earth. I saw dignity and agony intertwine like threads of incense rising upward.
And I whispered, “Lord, let this passing be a prayer.”
Because death, when seen rightly, isn’t a punishment. It’s a homecoming.
And for those still on this side of the veil, it’s an invitation to live.
So tonight, I thank God for death. For life. For the grace to see both.
For the chance to love relentlessly. To sit beside the dying and still stand in the stadium.
To mourn and to celebrate.
To weep in one room… and cheer in another.
Because one day, there will be no more distance between the two.
A heaven’s bed awaits.
And there will be no more sleepless nights.
~marty
Supporting Verse:
“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His faithful servants.” —Psalm 116:15
