Highlight Delete

A freakish thing I could have lived without happened yesterday. As I began closing my email account, I managed to highlight and delete enough in-box mail to take me back to February 28th. And my mind went there …
On February 28th my dad said he felt great. His words were clear and strong, he sounded happy. We'd just had a lengthy conversation and I remember thinking about going up to visit him.
I felt secure thinking we still had a lot of future together.
I remember thinking that we were coming to the five year mark of Dad’s heart attack and the resulting stroke that nearly took his life.
I remember pleading with God not to take my dad.

February 28th I woke up and made breakfast, speculating about the weather. In my mind, I heard an F-18 fly over head. When we lived in Orange Park, Florida, they flew overhead in spring.

In the cabinet above the coffee maker, where all our mugs were kept, I glanced up and saw the carved earthenware mug my dad had bought for me while he vacationed with Mary Ann in Montana one summer. I couldn’t remember the last time I drank coffee out of it so I pulled it down.

While drinking my coffee, looking out the window, again in my mind’s eye, I saw an F-18 nose down and one wing touching, sliding toward the house like a giant “X”. I remember thinking, I wouldn’t be able to save anything. Not people, myself or anything of importance.

Friday morning my friend Holly M called me out of the clear blue.
”What’s going on?” I ask.
“I had dreams about you. Nothing bad, but I wanted to call and check in.” And after talking awhile, I felt that everything was okay, but could change any minute.

Saturday after three near-misses in traffic I wanted to get to church. At church, the worship pastor, Aaron sang Come to Jesus originally written and sung by Chris Rice. The song so affected me that I wept in church. The what-if’s about traffic weighed on me. The song played over and over in my head. That night we’d been informed that dad was in the hospital. And that a priest had been called.

By Sunday afternoon, my father had died from the effects of a stroke.

Monday, Aaron sent me a song download. I played Come to Jesus so many times, I could hear every word in my head.
Thursday, as we drove up today to pay our respects, and smile for the people who wanted to join us in saying goodbye, the landscape sliding by the passenger window had changed.

The foliage had been encased first in frost. As we drove north, the frost thickened to ice. Instead of just glazing everything, some trees were bending under their burden. When the sun peeped out briefly, the trees glittered like lead crystal.

The song still played in my head. It carried me through the meet and greet and the service.
The last song to be sung at the funeral service was Come to Jesus. It book-ended the event for me. But one verse stuck with me the most:

“With your final heartbeat, kiss the world goodbye,
and go in peace and laugh on glory’s side.
And fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus and live…”