A little girl was blind from birth. Her mother would sit with her at the window and describe what she saw. In the spring she spoke of the tulips pushing out of the ground, the budding trees, the greening grass. In the summer she described the fullness of the vegetation, the squirrels playing in the trees. The fall, the changing colors of the leaves, the wispy clouds. The winter, the drifting snows, the frost on the window pane.

The little girl had an operation on her eyes, and she could see. When her mother came into the room, she said, "Mother, why didn’t you tell me it was so beautiful?" Her mother answered, "Honey, I tried, but I guess my words just weren’t up to it."

When we lose someone close to us there are really no brilliant words which can do justice to the occasion. Our words just aren’t up to it. As we mourn our loss, it is difficult for us to see beyond the moment. Death clouds our vision. It takes time for acceptance to begin and for hope to be restored. We grieve because we have loved. Our grief is simply an expression of our love.

For the Christian, physical death is merely the grand pause in life. We see our loved one moving from earthly life to heavenly life. In time we are even able to view heaven through the visionary eyes of Saint John. John sees the saints sitting around the throne of God. They are happy. And God himself descends from his throne and wipes away every tear from their eyes, proclaiming as he does that there is no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor pain. All of that has gone forever.

And now, looking very hard, we see him. We see her. Our loved one who has gone before. And we see it. There on his head. Over there on her head sits the crown - the crown of everlasting life; for there are no obituaries in heaven - only life with God forever.