The Day My Dad Met Jesus
One year ago today I held my dad’s hand as he saw the face of Jesus. His battle with cancer was over and his mind was free from the confusion the tumors in his brain was causing. The journey was long and filled with multiple hospital stays, some cancer related, most not. Dad should have died more than once during the over six years he battled cancer. Some of the most precious memories I had with my dad were spent in his hospital room over an early cup of coffee waiting for the doctor of the day to make their rounds. We would spend this time reading Psalms, listening to a sermon online, talking about the past…and a future without him.
That week of Thanksgiving was hard. Really hard. My dad had suffered a small stroke weeks before making it next to impossible to walk without help. In his confusion he would try to get out of the hospital bed hospice set up in mom and dad’s family room and end up on the floor. There were midnight phone calls to help get dad back in bed, hired caregivers who fell asleep during their shift, paramedics being called…Thanksgiving Day was ugly. In God’s providence we were able to have dad transported to a skilled nursing facility at Meadowbrook Village Christian Retirement Community on Friday afternoon. We were exhausted and so was dad. Even at Meadowbrook and their amazing care, hospice had to bring in a 24 hour critical care nurse to stay with dad due to his confusion. It broke my heart to see how the tumors were making dad so confused.
The night before my dad died God gave us a gift that I will always treasure. For a few hours dad was so clear minded I called my children to come visit. With all of us sitting the on the floor around his bed we shared stories, laughed and prayed. We were even able to get my daughter, Rachel on the phone from Illinois. Two peas in a pod, those two. Rachel asked her grandpa “How are you doing you old fart?” to which he responded “Terrible!”. We all laughed at the irreverent way the two of them spoke to each other. I left his room with such gratitude.
The next morning just before the sun was beginning to rise few, the hospice nurse called to let us know dad’s breathing had changed and it appeared today was the day. The care facility my dad had moved into just a few days before was steps from my house. Due to the hour I had to ring for the gate to be opened. I felt a sense of urgency and was frustrated how long it took the security guard to drive up in his golf cart to let me in. Didn’t he know my dad was dying? In reality, it was only moments… but seemed like an eternity. When I walked into my dad’s room there was a calmness. After a brief conversation with the hospice nurse about the plan for the day and calling my mom to come, I sat by my dad took his hand and gently rubbed his chest. He was wearing a soft navy t-shirt. As I rubbed his chest I could feel his breathing slow, I told the nurse “I think he is slipping away”. Knowing my mom was on her way, I kept telling my dad mom was coming. He was at peace…he was ready… and within minutes of me sitting by his side my dad died. Alone with a couple of nurses, holding his hand I said goodbye to my dad. No more pain, no more confusion, only peace. He was with his Savior.
I miss you daddy.
