Years ago, when visiting my father, who was in his eighties, we were talking about friends. He turned to me and said with a sigh, “All my friends are gone.” Of the group he’d shared numerous potlucks with, the men who had been his fishing buddies, he was the only one left. My father, to my knowledge, did not know the Savior, our true friend. He had many regrets for the life he had lived. My husband, who will be 88 in July, lost his best friend four years ago, and in the last year and a half, has lost five more friends. We have reached that age where we automatically check the obituary columns, hoping we will not see the name and picture of someone we knew. We wonder, as in a song I heard, how many were ready to go, how many had embraced our Savior sometime in their lives. We wonder if we could have said or done more, shared our hope in a different way. Some didn’t want to hear. In that transition moment from earth, did the Savior, who works outside of time, minister His love and open their spiritual eyes? We will not know until that moment when we see the face of our Savior and look around our new heavenly home to see who is there to welcome us.
Today is the memorial service for still another friend. He and his wife mentored me through the difficult and frightening days when I was a single mom with three kids to feed and clothe. I had a teaching credential but there were no teaching jobs to be had. They were shifting teachers and closing schools. This couple bought me groceries and extended the hand of love and friendship when others had turned away. I will never forget. So I today say goodbye to Don Cole, and look to see him again when the Savior calls my name.
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