The call came last week. Lois Benson, Mom’s oldest sister, had died. She’d been failing for several months, so the news wasn’t unexpected. But it was unwanted by those of us left behind. But I suspect, as do others who loved her, that Lois was not sad to go. Not after enduring cruel losses in her immediate family.

The loss of her son Gary shortly after his high school graduation.
The loss of her son, Vernie, who was a young husband and the father of 3 little girls.
The loss of her husband Ivar in the 1990s.
The loss of her great-grandson Spencer a few years ago.

Gary died when I was five, and her sad smile laces my early memories of this dear woman. Her smile grew achingly, heart wrenchingly sad seven years later when Vernie died. But this is what I will always remember about Aunt Lois: though the smiles grew more fleeting and rare with each loss, she never stopped smiling.

When she talked about her faith, she smiled hopefully.
When she talked about her hobbies, handiwork and baking (if you never tasted one of Aunt Lois’s pies or traditional Norwegian baked treats, you are to be pitied), her smile was animated and bright.
When she talked about the accomplishments of her living children and her grandchildren, she positively beamed.

Today, as our family gathers together to say good-bye to Lois Benson, we will all be hoping and imagining the reunion:

Aunt Lois smiling without a hint of sadness.
Rejoicing to see Gary, Vernie, Ivar, and Spencer once again.
Her Savior leaning down to wipe her tears away.
Her faith fulfilled. Her hope secured.

Oh, Aunt Lois, we will miss you. But knowing you are home again makes us smile…but sadly.

And He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.
Revelation 21: 4