free

I'll write about Ghana tomorrow, but right now all I can think about is Vincent.

He slipped away this morning, early, before I came on to work. His breathing slowed and then just. stopped. And I can't help thinking that, out of the whole year, this would be the best weekend to die; the weekend when no one doubts the truth of heaven, when the whole world is celebrating a risen Saviour. When all over the country there are huge gatherings of people in their finest clothes, dancing and singing under the palm trees because death has no sting.

No sting. Maybe that wasn't quite true this morning when I pulled back the curtain in the empty ward where he lay, when I saw his face, so still in death. It stung a little just then, until I remembered the truth, and for the first time I really understood what they mean when they say it'll set you free.

My heart was free then. To know that Vincent is no longer in pain, that he's resting in the arms of a God who is very much alive, very much in the business of putting things right. It was a feeling like breathing again after being underwater for far too long, like I noticed only just then that I'd been holding my breath for the past few weeks, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only this time the falling shoe looks like peace and comfort and release.

All day, people have been coming to me to hug me and pay their condolences, and it feels like I should be standing at the foot of his coffin, receiving them in place of the ones who turned away. For the first time, the message on the captain's board didn't ask for prayer for the family, just for those who cared for him and today, for the first time, there was no difference between the two.

I lost a brother today, but it feels like flying to know that he is free.