I hung up the phone. My mind raced with what to do next. I needed to find David and he was coaching little league football at a park. We had only been married a couple of months and we weren't expecting this dreaded news quite yet. This time it sounded serious. Of course it had sounded serious before. I hopped in the car and headed to the park a few miles away from our apartment. I found David and told him the news. My mom had told me I needed to get home as soon as possible. My dad had taken a turn for the worse and might not make it through the weekend. David agreed I needed to go. He still had to work on Friday, but he said I should go ahead and he would come Friday evening.Fortunately, we only lived about an hour away from my parents' home. That hour gave me time to think and to pray. My dad had been fighting cancer for six years and it had been a tumultuous journey. I was only in high school when the first diagnosis came of colon cancer. He had surgery, but due to some complications, he spent most of the summer, between my sophomore and junior year, in the hospital. When he finally came home in the fall, he was a shadow of the man I had known. He was thin, weak and had a minute amount of energy. It broke my heart to see him that way. He eventually recovered much of his strength and returned to work. Testing continued and it looked like he had beaten the cancer...but then, he started having problems again. Some time later came another cancer diagnosis.
Over the next six years, there were lots of trips to the doctor, tests taken, good news and bad news, surgeries, chemo treatments, radiation treatments and hope. There was always hope. Each time there was bad news though, it seemed like the bad news only spurred him on to keep fighting. He didn't whine, complain or shake his fist and ask, "Why me?" When people at church asked him how he was, he always had a smile on his face and gave the impression that nothing was going to take him down. People at work often commented on his upbeat spirit and his ability to keep going. He had always been an optimistic person--looking for the good and seeing the glass half full of milk with a few cookies on the side. At home though, we knew better. The cancer had ravaged his body, spreading uncontrollably. We knew that it wasn't a matter of if he would die, but when. It's hard to live like that sometimes...not knowing when that awful thing will happen, but knowing that it will.
When I got to town, I drove straight to the hospital. I went in to see him and he gave me a look of recognition, but not much else. Wow. He really was bad. I tried having a conversation with him, but he couldn't respond much. He acknowledged that he heard me, but he couldn't really talk with me. My mom had contacted my siblings and let them know. It was hard to believe that this really was the end for him. He had survived several close calls and had always come out okay....but not this time. That was on Friday. The following Tuesday, he left us...
Watching him die was nothing like Hollywood portrays...it wasn't pleasant or peaceful and he didn't just drift off into an endless sleep and then close his eyes. Instead, he struggled for every breath. He completely lost the ability to speak and could only mumble words to my mother. She acted as if she understood every word he was trying to say to her. I suppose in some ways she did know what he was saying. She knew him well and knew where his heart was. I didn't cry. I just stood there. My sister grabbed me and said between tears, "you poor thing". My brother was sobbing. His tears caused my own tears to finally start flowing. Numbness. Was he really gone?
After we left the room, I made a few phone calls to let people know the news. There was nothing left to do. My mom, sister and brother had gathered my dad's belongings and headed home. Later, as I drove back towards my parents' home, I kept thinking how unfair it was that the world had not stopped. The lights still blinked red and green, the police were still pulling people over, the buses were still running and people were returning home after work. How could the world keep spinning and moving when I had just lost my father?When I walked in the door of my parents' house, it felt strange. It was odd to walk through the door and know that my dad wouldn't ever walk through the door again.
That happened over 25 years ago, yet I can still recall vivid details of that day. Somehow, our brains remember the big emotional turning points in our lives, whether they be good or bad, with clarity. I can almost recapture the feelings I had on that day. Almost. Truthfully, I've learned to dampen some of those intense feelings over the years. I've also diminished some of people's well-intentioned comments along the way. You know what I'm talking about...."Well at least he's in a better place now." How about, "At least he's not suffering anymore." or "Well at least he lived a good long life." and "You should be rejoicing! He is with the Lord now!" Really? I did not find those words comforting at all. I knew all of those things to be true, but my heart was hurting. I wanted my daddy here again with me. He would not ever get to meet my children and be grandpa to them. No more spur-of-the-moment trips for my parents. No more discussion about which major I should study. No more picking out the right Christmas tree. No watching David and I grow closer to each other, as he predicted. I could go on.....
But I won't. I won't because it sounds sad and hopeless and I know he'd be frowning on me if all I did was live in the past. He'd be questioning me and wondering where I had placed my faith....and after all of the trauma I have just written about, there truly is a beautiful ending to this story. It is this: I have hope of seeing him again one day. Not a hope that is wishful thinking, but a hope of knowing that I know the Risen Savior!
Titus 2:11 - 14 says, "For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say, "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope--the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good."
I'm not ready to leave this earth quite yet, but when I do, I look forward to being reunited with him and all of the other loved ones who have gone on before me. In this, I have hope, because my hope is in the Lord.
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