To Live is Christ, To Die is Gain

We will experience many losses over the years but the one thing we cannot live without is the one thing we can never lose, Jesus loving presence. (Sarah Young)

I had no idea when I shared this post on Facebook last Thursday morning that before the day was over, we would be facing another loss. Our precious friend, Dwight Crocker, who grew up with our twins and remained their good friend (and ours), entered the presence of Jesus on December 1 at 1:11 pm.

We will miss Dwight so much, but our daughter, Angi, realized immediately that he and her twin brother, Robb, are together now. At the same time she has found that Dwight’s death makes her miss Robbie even more. She longs to reminisce with Robb about the fun the three of them had together and do some fact checking of her memories with his.

Andy Reckhart, a good friend of Robb and Dwight, commented that he was jealous because the two of them are in heaven playing baseball with Beaver, another good friend in their class who died while we were in Japan. All of them graduated together from Lakeview High School in 1991. It doesn’t seem real that, young as they were, three of them have left this life.

 I pulled out some pictures of Dwight, Robb, Beaver, and Andy taken during the three years they played baseball together in the Pony League.  (The clearest photo is the featured photo of Dwight.) How they loved to play baseball!

Dwight was not only a friend of our children but a dear friend of Donn and me. On Mother’s Day last year, my first Mother’s Day without Robb, Dwight sent me a message. “If anyone was like a second mom to me, it was you! Thank you for everything. My heart and prayers are with you this Mother’s Day.” Maybe because Dwight was such good friends with both our children, he was truly like one of our own.

For some of you who may not know Dwight’s story, he survived a kidney transplant when he was a teenager, another one on his wedding day,* and open heart surgery on the one-year anniversary of Robb’s death.

Right before Dwight headed back for surgery on July 7, he sent me a message. “I didn’t want to tell you about my surgery when they told me the date. I have been praying for you all. About to head in so good to go, but I love you both very much.” I was so moved that on the brink of open-heart surgery, Dwight’s concern was for us. If something should go wrong, he didn’t want us to experience another loss on the same day as the previous year. I am still moved to tears when I think about it.

Dwight’s last illness was completely unrelated to his other surgeries, although complicated by his kidney transplant, and couldn’t have been anticipated. So many of the dire predictions made during this illness didn’t come to pass—doctors said there was no reason he should be alive after experiencing sepsis all through his body, another said his kidney would never survive this but his numbers kept getting better, yet another doctor wanted to amputate one of his legs but it started getting better, as did his fingers and toes which were supposed to eventually drop off. 

In spite of all these positive signs, he had an unhealed wound that kept his condition unstable and eventually he was released from his suffering to come into the presence of his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, whom he faithfully served. I’m sure he would say with the apostle Paul, For me to live is Christ, to die is gain (Philippians 1:21). We do not grieve for him, only for those who loved him.

Please continue to pray for Dwight’s loving wife, Christy, who was by his side every possible moment during this journey, his precious daughter, Rylee, who turned 13 the day before her father passed away, and all of us who loved him so. Our greatest comfort is that we will see Dwight again when we, too, reach the end of our journey and enter the presence of Jesus.

*You can read Dwight and Christy’s story of how and when God provided a second kidney for him in Chicken Soup for the Soul, Angels and Miracles. The title is An Interruption For a Miracle. I had the privilege of being their ghost writer. 

Photo: Dwight Crocker in 1988

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