What a glorious thing it will be when we wake to find our loved ones beside us, emerging from the same cemeteries—the same plots even—to live forevermore. What a glorious thing it will be when, like that father and son, we rise to live eternally with so many of our loved ones—those we saw lowered into the cold earth, those to whom we bid a sorrowful farewell, perhaps even those we were sure had been lost forever.

I once read of a terrible tragedy at sea, a shipwreck in which many were swept into the ocean and lost. As the ship foundered and splintered, as first the lower decks and then the upper succumbed to the winds and the waves, most of the passengers sank into the depths. But still fighting for their lives were a father and son who had been traveling together from the Old World to the New.

As the ship slipped lower and lower, the two scrambled into the rigging and began to climb upwards. But it was to little avail. The rains continued to pour down upon them and the waves continued to pound up against them. Though they clung tightly and with all the strength they had, the elements were set against them and they began to grow cold and weary. It was only a matter of time.

Then the moment came when, to his great horror, the father saw his son lose his grip and plunge into the sea. Before he could do anything more than cry out in grief and horror, a great wave crashed against him and he blacked out.

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