Dear cousin Jimmy,
You died about fifteen years ago. When I met you, you were screaming in pain but you didn’t know why. You were born almost completely brain-dead; you could only eat, drink, breathe, scream, laugh, smile, and cry. I had the privilege of making you laugh once by making a funny face. Or maybe you just laughed at my face.
Your parents loved you to death. Your dad even risked jail time like that movie John Q. to get you medical care. You know all that now. He tried but he couldn’t save you. He loved you more than I have ever seen a human being love anyone.
I know you’re in Heaven right now because God protects His children. You didn’t need to be saved: you were safe. People might have questioned why God made you that way, but He made you beautiful, and now you’re even beyond that. You can run, think, draw, jump, build, point, sing, shout, tumble, bounce, dance, rock, roll, and eat by yourself. You can lift more weights, sing higher notes, and write better songs than I ever could. You’re with Jesus, and you’re both probably laughing about this whole thing called life-on-earth.
It must have been exciting to hear for the first time what Jesus did for you. You got to hear it straight from his mouth. I’m trying not to weep thinking about how wonderful it is where you are. By the grace of God I’ll see you again real soon, Jimmy.