My uncle, Eugene Peterson, died tonight around ten-thirty. He died comfortable, surrounded, I’m sure, by the people he loved. He was able to spend quality time with his wife, children, and grandchildren over these last few weeks. I even got to hear his voice that one last time.
I still see, in my mind, my tall, broad uncle, in the clearing between the camping woods and the cornfield. Tonight, when I go to bed, I will say Psalm 23 out of the Bible we shared and be grateful that he has gone home to his God. May he know only eternal peace, and may we who love him heal with time from this loss.