It was a cool November day and Thanksgiving had passed. I sat in my favorite chair with my feet propped up and just stared out the window for what seemed like minutes but it was actually an hour. I knew what I needed to get up and do but I just didn’t have the strength.
I called my brother at the hospital fully expecting him to tell me that Dad had passed away in the night but instead he told me that Dad was still with us. At this point I was completely numb. In order to take my mind off things I called an old friend in Houston.
As soon as Cindy knew it was me she asked me how my dad was. I told her and her immediate response was, “Why aren’t you with your dad?” I told her that I just couldn’t relive the hardest goodbye of my life. “I can’t say goodbye again.” Cindy said, “Get off the phone right now and go be with you dad or you will regret this for the rest of your life.” I knew Cindy was right. I took a deep breath and started getting ready to go up to the hospital.
As I walked into the hospital room I saw the dearest and sweetest man I have ever known lying in bed. He still looked like Santa Clause with his white hair and full white beard but there was no longer a twinkle in his eyes. He just laid there looking very tired. I leaned over to kiss him and stroke his hair and he whispered, “Trust God.” Those were the only words I had heard my dad say for the last several days but he had said them many times.
None of us knew what to do that day. What do you do when someone you love is exhausted, doesn’t eat anymore, and is waiting to die? Part of me wanted to just shake him and beg him to keep trying, to eat, and to overcome the cancer racking his body, but all I could say was, “Daddy, you are so tired, aren’t you?”
Suddenly I was interrupted by the nurse that wanted to give Dad a sponge bath. I so wanted to stay by his side but quietly left the room. I knew Dad would hate this. He was a prideful man that wouldn’t want to be taken care of in this manner. I knew he was sick because he didn’t say a word.
I saw that Dad’s brother, my uncle Dan, had just arrived to see Dad and pay his last respects. I hugged him as hard as I could because he looked so much like Dad and was such a symbol of life rather than death. We went to have a cup of coffee and laughed about old times together. We continued to share old stories as we went up the elevator and walked to Dad’s room to see how he was doing. By then the room was pretty full with my mom, brothers and sisters-in-law and husband, Bill. We all gathered around the bed telling stories and laughing together.
I thought to myself, “Is this respectful? With this thought I looked down to see Dad’s labored breathing. Bill was standing next to me and gently said, “Georgia” to my mother. She started crying as Dad drew his last breath and she kissed him on the forehead. We all instinctively grabbed each other’s hand and Bill started to pray as Dad headed into heaven. This was truly one of the most spiritual moments of my life. Dad had the pleasure of seeing me ushered into life and I had the privilege of being with him as he was ushered into eternal life. I have never experienced anything so powerful. I brushed his hair one last time with tears running down my face and kissed him on his forehead. Then once again, I was ushered out of the room so the nurse could clean him up. I wished she didn’t have to do that.
In the midst of something so spiritual and beautiful were the realities of this life. His eyes had to be closed because he could no longer do it, his body had to be cleaned up and prepared for burial and all of his belongings he no longer needed had to be packed up. The poster his granddaughters had made encouraging him to get better was packed up. The flowers and cards from friends were packed up. As the coroner came into his room, we left to go home and weep.
I never wept so hard. I was so sick to my stomach that I thought I would never be well again. The nausea lasted for days, then weeks, then months, and then even years. I felt as though my hero was gone and would never return.
One of Dad’s favorite songs played at his funeral was, “How Great Thou Art.” God used that song to minister to me so many times in the months that followed his death. On the days that I was at my lowest, that song would suddenly be played in church or on the radio. It was heartbreaking, yet soothing.
On one of my lowest days, I had prayed that God or Dad would just give me a sign that would make me feel close to Dad. I had gone out shopping to try to take my mind off of things. I went into one of my favorite stores and saw a young woman that I recognized but I didn’t know where from. I kept an eye on her as she traveled throughout the store, hoping that I would remember soon. All of a sudden, the young woman turned and saw me. She immediately ran over to me and said hello. She was so excited and asked me how Dad was. She could tell I was a little surprised and then said, “I was your dad’s nurse for awhile.” I told her that Dad had passed away a couple of weeks ago. She was surprised and sad. She said, “I really thought he was going to make it.”
Then she proceeded to tell me that Dad had changed her life. I asked her how and she said, “Every night when I was taking care of your dad he would quote scripture to me. And he always ended with ‘You have been blessed to be a blessing.’” I started sharing what he told me to my husband every night. He began to ask me, ‘What did the old man say today?’ Then I started sharing everything with my little girl and she would ask me, ‘What did the old man say today?’ He changed my perspective and changed my life.”
That is what I needed to hear that day. I needed to know that Dad mattered to people and that Dad lived on. The day he died I just wanted the world to stop for a few minutes but it didn’t. In fact, I walked out to the lobby of the hospital soon after he died and they were putting up Christmas decorations. I wanted to grab all of them and beg everyone to let me mourn and mourn with me. Didn’t they understand that I had just lost one of the most important people in my life? The nurse, at least, reminded me that Dad was still making an impact.
It has been a number of years now and I know Dad’s legacy lives on. I see it in his wife, his sons, his grandchildren, and in his great-grandchildren. Every day I think about Dad and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t try to live out what he taught me.
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