I stroke your hand, a colorful mountain terrain. Smooth and cool, your tender grip squeezes in return, “I love you Popo.”
Your wide boyish grin, mischievous eye, like star twinkles, I cannot help the laugh that escapes.
“Will it hurt to leave?”, you ask. No, it will be like the blink of your star twinkle eyes.
Goodbye, I love you. I’ll see you soon. “Okay and thank you for coming”, you respond as you drift off.
One last kiss on your forested cheek. I miss you, have fun creating with Father. I’ll see you soon.
Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”
1 Corinthians 15:51-54