Rest in Peace, Dad

I've been out in California for the last week as my father entered his final struggle with leukemia. He moved on into the nearer presence of our Lord at 12:30 today.

My words cannot contain my sentiments at the moment. Please allow the Book of Common Prayer to speak for me:

From the Note on p. 507:

The liturgy for the dead is an Easter liturgy. It finds all its meaning in the resurrection. Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we, too, shall be raised.

The liturgy, therefore, is characterized by joy, in the certainty that “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This joy, however, does not make human grief unchristian. The very love we have for each other in Christ brings deep sorrow when we are parted by death. Jesus himself wept at the grave of his friend. So, while we rejoice that one we love has entered into the nearer presence of our Lord, we sorrow in sympathy with those who mourn.

From The Commendation, p. 499:

Give rest, O Christ, to your servant with your saints,
where sorrow and pain are no more,
neither sighing, but life everlasting.

You only are immortal, the creator and maker of mankind;
and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we
return. For so did you ordain when you created me, saying,
“You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” All of us go down
to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia,
alleluia, alleluia.

Give rest, O Christ, to your servant with your saints,
where sorrow and pain are no more,
neither sighing, but life everlasting.

From The Committal, p. 502:

Rest eternal grant to him, O Lord;
And let light perpetual shine upon him.

May his soul, and the souls of all the departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

I love you, Dad.

J.