My Dad had been such a strong man for so long, full of hard work and full of pride. Strong hands, strong minded...and simply wanting some confirmation that he was a good man...he was.
Last week my dad was talking one thousand words, he was talking the words of a man who stood alone but not really alone, even though he didn’t know it these last five days we never left his side, day or night…although maybe he did. Maybe he did know.
Last week my dad was talking one thousand words, he was talking the words of a man who stood alone but not really alone, even though he didn’t know it these last five days we never left his side, day or night…although maybe he did. Maybe he did know.
Ahh, life is hard; God never did promise it would be easy. Dad
fought a long hard battle, fifteen years of a heart suffering with failure and
then in turn more aches and pains, burdens overtaking his body, pains and
sores overflowing with blood sweat and tears…blood, sweat and tears.
God never did promise it would be easy.
Dad wanted it easier, don’t we all, we want to have it easy,
but life isn’t that way. Life is filled
with trouble, hard knocks and sad stories.
We all have a story; if we listen we will hear the stories that fill the
air all around us, stories that bump into each other in the spaces of our
breathing in and out. Stories that float
like clouds over the heads of those we pass every day. We passed through them
on the way to Dad’s room, into the staircases and elevators, through the halls,
past the rooms whose doors opened to the hallways and all of them speaking into
the air that we were walking through; breathing them in.
Breathing in and out, in and out, shallow, rapid, slow…crackling,
bubbling, in and out, so hard to hear, so hard to watch, so hard to
bear…my Dad’s breath, telling the story of the suffering we have known these
last years, these last days, the last moments of his last story.
Part of his last story was how he reconciled to God, how
the Chaplain came and ministered to him, prayed with him and listened to the
words Dad had to tell, words that were still known, words that came before the
one thousand words we couldn’t understand.
What a blessing for my Mom to hear the story, the better
part, the part that came easy and offered peace…peace at last.
Yes, peace, given freely, given in the way of a moment, in
slow motion, in…out…in…out.
We were in awe of the silence...so loud in our ears and hearts, taking it in and the world around us stopped as we listened.
In. Out. Finished.
It was an honor to
witness this last breath; the last part of the story, my Dad’s story.
And the things of
earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His
glory and grace
