My Dad

If someone would have told me twenty years ago that the greatest life lessons I would learn from my father would be in his death, I would have called them crazy. If someone would have told me that in 48 years of my life no memory good or bad would override the impact of the last hours of my dad’s life I would not have believed them. 

Being at the bedside of someone you love who is dying can be devastating but it can also be amazing. I will never regret, forget or want to wipe away one moment of those last hours with my dad. I am forever changed.

My dad had a very large presence in life. He was a driven man. He worked hard. He was smart. He was in no way a quiet man. My loud voice, my stubbornness, my voice to causes I feel strongly about are all traits I inherited from my dad.  Colleagues respected my father. My siblings and I sometimes feared him. Few could say they really knew him. There was no mistaking when my dad was in a room.  My dad’s physical presence at 6’6” was intimidating. When his size fifteen shoes were walking quickly toward you there was no mistaking his power. Growing up I learned that I should never wait for those footsteps to get louder but to do my best to move quickly in the other direction as soon as I heard them. His large hand could grip, like he was holding a basketball, the head of even the largest adult when he wanted you to listen. His grip was firm but gentle, he had no problem placing his hand atop your head regardless of if you were a 2 year old not sitting still at church, a 22 year old who made a bad choice, or a 42 year old after brain surgery. There was no mistaking when my dad placed his hand on your head he meant business and expected your undivided attention. In the last hours of his life,  I marveled at my ability to place my hand on his whole head and speak love into him. He looked so small and frail. I said to him. “Dad, I have my whole hand on top of your head so I know you can hear me.” Moments like this I consider blessings now that he is gone. 

People liked to please my father, myself included.  I loved to feel my father’s admiration and I always knew when he was pleased with me. I also knew without a doubt when I had crossed the line and should run the other way.  Even later in my life as my dad’s health started failing and there was no way he could out run me, I still walked briskly in the other direction if a sass would ever escape my grown up lips, never wanting to disappoint him. (or for him to catch me).

My dad was successful, smart and provided every material need. I had more than most children could every dream of having. If I would have asked, even in the days before his death, my dad would have given me his last dime. He provided my siblings and me with the best education from private schools and colleges four year programs through masters degrees and Phd’s, he never wavered in his financial commitment to us.  More importantly, however, was his commitment to grow us as his children. Life lessons. Sometimes they hurt. Sometimes they caused cracks and breaks in our relationship, but never did he neglect the lesson. Every bad choice we made he corrected. Every late night call he came (or sent my mom when he was too angry)The calls, many of them from his mischievous and naughty teenagers in the local jail, all answered. He protected our lives, our honor and our dignity on so many occasions it would take me hours if not days to explain. 

While these memories and occasions I remember and I am certainly humbled by them, it was only in my dad’s final hours that I truly understood the depths of my dad’s love for me. As I sat by his bedside I was remembering his devotion to me in those difficult moments, more  than recalling his financial commitment to me in the every day normal moments of life.  I was not focusing on the material things my father provided for me but about how he loved me.  Everything I have today is in some small or large way due to his love for me. One of the last things my dad said to me before his ability to speak was gone was, “ I love you Mary, you are my daughter. You will always be my daughter.” 

In his last hours of life he was unable to speak. He was unable to sit. He needed comfort. He needed to know he was loved, that he will be missed and that his life had meaning. He did not need to know the status of his bank accounts or if his car was running properly. He needed love. There is a lot to be learned in a moment like that.

 The importance of life is not in the material things you have amassed but that you spoke love into those around you, that your family and friends knew how you felt.  In your last hours a simple touch and a squeeze of the hand is enough. It is what you will want.

My dad’s last hours of life were filled with the simplistic wonder of a child exploring a new room.There were times when his eyes would get wide and his expression would be one of anticipation like a baby bird waiting for food from its mother. Then at other times, the look on my dad’s face was more like the face of a child on Christmas morning.There was something so absolutely beautiful about this time.  Christ’s presence was so undeniable in my dad’s room. He was there speaking directly into my dads heart. He was in the words I read from Psalm 23. He was in my voice as I sang to my dad over and over again the words to Precious Lord Take My Hand. Words that up until that moment, I had no idea I had memorized. God was in my oldest brothers strong and reassuring voice that it was OK to go, that his family was fine. God was in my younger brothers tears as he held his hand to say good-bye. God was the hands of the hospice nurses who gently messaged my dads arms and legs with such kindness it took my breath away. God was in the heart of the nurse who lovingly and repeatedly swabbed out my dad’s mouth, who took her job of keeping him comfortable like it was her only responsibility that day. 

If you have never been at the bedside of a loved one who is dying you might not understand when I say that death can be beautiful. It is sad and beautiful at the same time. I hope that you will never make a decision to delay or forgo a visit with a dying loved one based on your own fear. We have nothing to fear in death. I believe the Holy Spirit carried me through those last hours. I watched as my dad would lift his hand up toward the ceiling and his lips would form a perfect circle. I would ask him,  Is it beautiful dad? Are you amazed? His eyes shone. The look on my dad’s face in those moments filled me with such hope. A hope of what is to come.

On several occasions my dad folded back the sheets from his legs and started moving his feet back and forth. I would say,  “Dad if you see Jesus just start running. Go to him dad, it’s OK, I want you to go to him.” 

As the day went on I realized that whenever my dad was restless my first instinct was to grab his hand but after a while I felt like when I reached for his hand I stopped him. I started to resist the urge to grab his hand, not wanting the joy to stop for him. Excited that his journey to heaven before his eyes and sad that my part was coming to a close. This was ultimately why I chose to leave. I felt like my dad was waiting for me to leave the room. The nurse said that sometimes this happens. One last chivalrous act from a father to his daughter. One last act of protection. She was right.

He died shortly after I waked out the door. 

I’ve thanked God every day since I walked out for that time with my dad.

It has changed me forever. 

It has caused me to start living with heaven in mind, all day, every day.

My entire outlook on life, as well as the way I treat people has completely changed. Why? In the end nothing matters except your relationship with Jesus Christ and the relationships you had with others. It’s really that simple. 

I will no longer leave words unsaid knowing there will be a time I will want to say them and will be unable.  At the same time I will also be more aware that words can sometimes be hollow and my actions say more than words ever could. 

I am choosing to live with an eternal perspective.  Eternity is what I should strive for. It should be on my mind all day- every day. I should not focus on the outcome of an election, if I was right or wrong, if my side won or lost. 

It simply does not matter. 

All go to the same place; all come from dust and to dust all return 

Ecclesiastes 3:20 (NIV)

Life on earth is a short time compared to the eternity you have in heaven. Making this life count while always having heaven in your view should be your goal. 

It will be my goal.

I want to give not only when I am able, but also when it’s difficult.

I want to serve others.

I want to love in all circumstances and to those who deserve it least. 

I want to be present here on earth but live with eternity always on my mind.

I want to prepare more for things which last forever.

I want to care more about my final destination and not focus as much on the pit stops along my way.

My prayer for you all is that you will come to know God so deeply and love others so greatly that you will hardly be able to await your name being  called.

My dad was a great man.

In the experience of watching him die, I feel like I have learned how to live my life again.