Caring and mourning from afar

It’s the middle of the night. You get the call. One of your parents has suddenly entered the end-of-life stage or has just passed away.

The call came for me at 3:30 a.m. in California. My father-in-law had passed away in Sendai. That call began a blur of activity for the next several hours as I re-booked tickets for my family, got a black suit, and headed to the airport. Welcome to mourning from afar.

When our parents face declining health issues we can struggle with how to care for them. How do I provide support from a distance? Who will provide local care? How often can I afford to visit? What arrangements need to be made for the funeral, burial, or cremation? Who is the trustee of the estate? The questions are many and the answers range in complexity, and are influenced by family dynamics, finances, distance, and faith. My wife and I dealt with all of these issues with both of my parents in the United States and my father-in-law in Japan as their earthly journey came to an end.

I will explore this idea of caring and mourning from afar through the lens of an Old Testament character, as well as through my own experiences and the lessons I’ve learned about graceful caring.

Joseph

Joseph faced a huge challenge when his father Jacob was near the end of his life’s journey. Genesis 50 tells us that Jacob gave his son specific directions for the location and method of his burial. Once Jacob found out that Joseph was still living, he traveled to Egypt in his old age with his other sons to be with Joseph, but he desired to be buried in the tomb he had built for himself in Canaan over 300 miles away. Joseph’s story is akin to a missionary’s parents visiting the mission field to be with their son, and then when one of them dies, the son takes their remains back home to be buried.

The burial instructions included embalming, a process that took 40 days. The mourning period in Egypt was 70 days, and another seven days were added once Jacob’s remains were returned to Canaan. Joseph obtained permission from Pharaoh to travel to Canaan to bury Jacob. I am impressed by the acts of an obedient, loving son and the unhurried processing of grief.

Joseph’s journey to becoming a missionary is fascinating. He was betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, slandered by the wife of his master, put in prison, and then restored to authority under Pharaoh due to the hand of God and his ability to interpret dreams. He was a strategic leader of Egypt, masterminding the deliverance of the peoples of both Israel and Egypt from extreme drought. Joseph was a missionary uniquely sent from God to achieve a wonderful kingdom purpose. But now he had to leave his work and home to fulfill his father’s burial wishes.

In honoring his father, Joseph dealt with Jewish and Egyptian cultural differences both great and nuanced. He faced family dynamics of envy gone wrong. The chain of command from Jacob to Joseph was clear, but sibling issues surfaced again after the mourning period was completed. Joseph’s words to his brothers are powerfully restorative and great reminders to us of how to navigate family dynamics when a parent dies. In Genesis 50:20 we see how his words focus on God’s mercy, sovereignty, and forgiveness: “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (ESV).

My experience

My own journey includes caregiving and officiating the funerals for both of my parents. Timing and location varied in each scenario. I was with my parents when my mother died, in Japan when my father passed, and in the United States when my father-in-law graduated to heaven.

As my mother’s health declined, we arranged to live closer to my parents during our year-long home assignment in 1995-96. When my mom died two years later, I asked my dad if I could officiate my mom’s funeral as a way of honoring her before family and friends. It was emotionally draining, but it was also a blessing to reflect on her life.

My father’s last year on this earth was cause for humor, sorrow, and—ultimately—peace. He had become seriously ill the summer before, and I spent several nights at his bedside, sleeping in a recliner and listening to his labored breathing. His doctor told us that he probably had only a few days to live. When he was conscious, we had my siblings, many grandkids and great-grandkids Skype in to express their love for him. I prayed and read Scripture with him.

His best friend was celebrating his birthday, so I thought my dad would want him to have the Rakuten Eagles baseball cap I gave him several years before. A few days later, my dad miraculously came back to health! One day he saw that his friend had his hat, and he promptly snatched it back. I had to buy another hat and apologize to the both of them on my next visit! I took a picture of the two smiling with their matching hats. All was forgiven.

In the summer of 2018, I faced a challenge. My dad’s health was failing again and his 95th birthday was coming up. I had visited him two to three times a year for the past three years. Should I go again? Phone calls with him usually ended with him saying, “I sure miss you. When are you coming next?” It was an easy decision. I went. I bought a birthday hat, balloon, whistles, apple pies, and ice cream to celebrate his birthday with his friends. It was a wonderful party and would be the last time I would see him this side of eternity. Two weeks prior to his death as we talked on the phone, he said, “You’re the best!”

He died in December due to complications from surgery. He had two memorial services, one at his veterans home and one at the veterans cemetery chapel. I listened to the staff, chaplain, and his friends share about his life in the morning, then officiated the chapel service in the afternoon. I visited his grave on his birthday recently.

My father-in-law was my Japanese father who had become a Christ-follower after my wife and I got married. He loved his grandkids. The first night we arrived in Japan to attend his funeral, we slept in the room where his coffin rested as a sign of love and respect.

The commitment to honor our aging parents while serving cross-culturally provides opportunities to show loving grace through their end-of-life journey. It begins with a decision to provide more intentional care, then moves on to life reflection, end-of-life preparation, celebration, mourning, and healing. It is a path of surprising twists and turns, and it is best traveled with others.