Revelation

I believe death brings revelation. In facing loss, we inherit a renewed and often unexpected perspective on life. Sometimes the very lens through which we choose to see the world narrows our vision; by clinging to it, we risk losing the wider, truer landscape that lies just beyond our periphery.

My great grandmother parted from this life on November 11th, 2025. She lived ninety nine full years, nearly a century marked by countless joys and hardships. As I grieve, I can’t help but reflect on what the world must have looked like through her eyes: married for over fifty years, outliving all but one of her siblings, two of her children, her daughter in law, and her grandson. The strength required to endure that level of loss is beyond what I can fathom, and I deeply admire her resilience. But even more remarkable was her ability to keep leading our family with grace, holding us together, loving us without condition, withholding judgment, and living with the conviction that love rises above everything.

Her example, her character, her endurance, her gentleness, has shaped me as a man in ways I am only now beginning to fully understand. Revelation settles in when I consider how our actions reveal the condition of our hearts, becoming the final manifestation of our thoughts, our emotions, and the truths we commit ourselves to. There are countless things in life that pose as “truth,” yet so often they distract us from the ultimate one: love is above all.

This is not the first time hardship has knocked at my door, and it leaves me with familiar questions: Did I say enough? Did I do enough? Were there moments when I failed to let love take precedence, knowing the inevitable would one day arrive? There are so many words I still wish I could speak, so much love I still wish I could give. And so I allow those longings to become my guiding stars. I don’t ever want to feel that I withheld love from the people around me, knowing the weight that comes from losing the chance to offer it. Not being able to make a call. To say I love you. To extend forgiveness for what I once held against someone.

My great grandmother left no stone unturned. She loved fully and lived by that standard until her final breath. I thank the Lord that I had the privilege of witnessing that love and carrying it with me throughout my life.

I say all of this because I am confronted with a simple but profound truth: we can never love too much, never forgive too much, never say too much, because one day we will no longer have the chance. And as I look honestly at the way I have lived, the emotions I have clung to, the truths that no longer serve me, I find myself wanting to become more like you, Tutu.

I love you forever.