“THE BEST IS YET”
by Donald Whelpley, ©️2025
Richard had lived a full life, or others would have thought so. He grew up in a humble home at the edge of town. Met his bride, Helen, at college. Started a life-long career in his chosen field. Raised a family. Enjoyed luxurious vacations. Traveled to Europe, Africa, and Asia. Lived in a marvelous “craft” house for 45 years. He had children, grandchildren, and a few great grandchildren. He had observed fads come and go, including weird ones like the COVID-shutdown. In the rear view mirror he considered it only a fad. He had voted in every local election since he was 18 and didn’t mind much if his candidate didn’t win (the next one would). He supported the local university sports teams with his presence at many games. They didn’t always win (but would next time).
So, after his wife passed, he was surprised by a sense of expecting the future to be better than the past. He thought that idea strange. He was older. He was a bit feeble (he was still strong, but sometimes his bones ached and his hands hurt, and his eyes had trouble focusing just before bed). His bones ached if he did too much (and he was always doing too much). It wasn’t that his life had been boring, it wasn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss his wife (his wife was supposed to be in his shoes at this point, he had always thought she would outlive him and thus, he hadn’t planned to be alone). He missed his wife very much … expected her to get up and cook a meal, expected her to check the mailbox, expected her to send birthday cards … she didn’t anymore. Those were all his to do. He was a wee thankful for that because those things got him out of his chair and busy. A busy man doesn’t have time to think, or grieve, or cry bitterly. What good were all those 35mm photos anymore? No one to share them with, tell a story, laugh at, have remorse together that this person was gone or that one divorced. Marriage is about sharing emotions and memories and he was no longer married. The emotions and memories were all solitary ones now.
What good was a full life if one had no one to share the fullness with? And yet, … yet …, there was that assurance in his mind that the future held something wonderful, powerfully hopeful, and intensely fulfilling.
Richard had watched other widows and widowers. Some moved on and found another mate soon thereafter. Most lost their umph when their spouse passed. It seemed that half died less than a year later; they had nothing for which to live. Even if they dated and re-married there was something sadly missing. New relationships could not replace earlier ones. Some bought red sports cars and exercised, got macho haircuts (guys) or spritely ones (gals). It didn’t matter. There was a sadness that could be seen in their eyes which the new sporty sunglasses could not cover. Some got into tech and began watching their phones like younger folk, but there was nothing there for them … just as there would be nothing there for the younger folk in a few decades.
He didn’t want to talk about it, but the kids and grand kids came for visits (which mostly revolved around remembering the good old days and eating cake). He didn’t mind cake, but he really wished that one more time someone would make his favorite non-recipe “Apple Pie Cake” which combined the best features of pie and cake…the tartness of apples with the sweetness of cake, cut in wedges like a pie. (When was the last time he had tasted that?)
He was sitting in his chair one morning with coffee and toast when he thought of it. Wasn’t the best part of Jesus’ ministry when he was placed in a tomb? Yes! Because if he hadn’t been placed there no resurrection would have come. Resurrection was necessary. If Jesus was God, he could not stay dead. If he was a Savior then his followers needed the best evidence that what he had taught was true. Resurrection did that. The dead can give nothing, or answer any question. The living, … the living answer and provide truth. What did God say? He hated liars! The resurrection proved Jesus was truth. How else could there be undeniable assurance of salvation?
Only Satan and his followers lied. In the garden of Eden it was Satan’s lies which twisted the truth. That old dry skin implied that God was the liar, “You shall not surely die,” he hissed. “You will be like God,” he whined, knowing himself that the way he defined God was in error, “knowing good and evil.” God never had any evil in his character, only good. What God made was good, very good! What Satan had and has in his character, however, is evil. So Eve and Adam would not be like God at all, but like Satan. And so it was that man lost the purity of God and gave it up for a twisted version of Satan’s making.
The fullness of these thoughts was not what he was imagining to be the source of his expectations, by a long shot. However, the next day he felt peaceful and … oddly … happy. He showered, put on his “excursion” pants and drove off. Where was he going? He didn’t know (he always knew where he was going, he was a planner). He drove into the parking lot at a “walking” park (actually it was a dog park … where people took their dogs to exercise). He didn’t have a dog and he’d never been to the dog park before. “Why not!” he thought to himself, “The future is better!”
Copyright 2025 Donald Whelpley
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There are days I put on my “excursion pants,” too. Sometimes when sitting in front of my computer, other times when planning to take a hike at a large county park which has an overlook at the river. In all fairness, we’ve never made it to the overlook … it is a long way, but we have enjoyed the trails both in the forest and across the fields. I watch out for copperheads, but have not seen one there. I’m guessing there aren’t many there since we often see young bunnies. I know of one cat a few miles from there (as the crow flies) which became too curious.
Those copperheads would keep me out of the woods I think…I’d do my walking in town!
Thankfully, where we live we don’t have to watch for water moccasins or rattlesnakes. Western part of the state has Pigmy Rattlesnakes. I’ve heard that their rattlers sound like tiny tinkling bells. Hear tiny bells … stop. It ain’t one of Santa’s elves.