When I do not understand, He does: A Grief Observed

It seems as though we are always living in the present...In the back of our minds forever lurks the haunting prospect of death; those of loved ones and our own. For myself, I seemed always to view death in the future tense. Someday my father will die. Someday another loved one will die. Always "someday" was somewhere out there down the road.
Then last year, in February, my father stepped into eternity after what appeared to be a brief battle with Leukemia. Vicious, fast, and so final!
Now death has knocked on our family's door once again. This time it was vastly different. Almost a decade ago, my wife's step-father, the only father she has had for the last 20 years, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. It really has been a "long good-bye." Dr. Stanley Renas was a brilliant man, a college professor who spoke eight languages. But slowly, the disease that first stole his mind, then his dignity, and finally his self-awareness won.
This past week he, like my father a year ago, quietly stepped into eternity. At his grave side as we overlooked his simple American flag draped pine box casket, the playing of "Taps" was hauntingly painful. For those of us who remain, we have a profound sense of loss, an emptiness in our hearts and souls. Practically, there is an empty chair at the kitchen table. We are left with memories, good memories, only memories.
We grieve for Stanley, we grieve for my mother in law, Bea. We grieve for our family and ourselves. For me and my family, we are grateful for the promise that "Jesus came to bind up the broken hearted." Our confidence and trust remain in Him.
In time, the pain of grief will subside, yet I know that somewhere, sometime down the road, like an old acquaintance, we will meet again. Nonetheless, I am not alone. My old friend, Jesus, was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." When I do not understand, He does. I take comfort in His promise that He will never leave me or forsake me.