He didn't speak per se but he got his point across. His Mom and Dad understood his nuances and made sure he was as comfortable and content as he could possibly be. He had an opinion and wasn't afraid to let them know. If his Mom laughed, he cried. If she cried, he laughed. If she was on the phone, he was anything but quiet. Invariably, if his Mom called while he was eating, he would "mmmmmm" throughout his meal, loudly. He was loved and so well cared for and he will be missed. Jesus opened the gates of Heaven and took him home this week. He has a body now that can move, and a voice that speaks. He doesn't hurt anymore. But we do. I know what it's like to have a hole in your heart that can't be filled and the pain can't be eased. I'm sorry my sister has to know that too.
His brother wrote a poem in his memory and part of what he said: "He's free from a world that somewhat held him captive. He's free to be at peace and not in a body with sickness. For now I bid you farewell."
God is too wise to be mistaken.
God is too good to be unkind.
So when you don't understand, when you don't see His plan.
When you can't trace His hand, trust His heart.
God had a plan for Jon and his time here and when He took him home. I don't understand and I hurt but I'll trust His heart.
I can't help but think that when Jon was surrounded by God's glory he didn't fall to his knees, he danced.