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…”

Youngest Perspective

I recieved this post from my youngest brother. He also lives the farthest away. I'm posting it partly because I want to honor my dad and the man my brother became because of him.

I don't know where to start. I may wander all over, so just bear with me. I have never had to do this before.

I believe Dad was the last male in his family. It was up to him to carry on a family name. To leave a legacy. I think if you look around now, you will find that he did a VERY thorough job of it. Four sons, two daughters. Now, nine grandsons, and six grand-daughters. Looks like the name will definitely live on. Is this not how God himself rewarded those in his favor in biblical times? I like to think so.

My parents had six kids.... SIX!!!! Just imagine doing that today. I'm glad he didn't quit at five, or you wouldn't be reading this, and two grandsons would be missing.

My dad was the greatest at making things work. fixing things, making things and just general problem solving. He was never self serving, but serving of all others. He was a dreamer, but made you also dream. He was a provider and showed us how to provide. He was a believer that showed us how to believe. He was a father that showed us HOW to father. He was decent and honest and showed us also the benefit in this. He was my confidant and my friend, my coach, my cheerleader.
Now he will lead from afar.

He left the map. He will now clear a new path for us. We were fortunate to know him here, and we will be fortunate to know him again.

Dad, I miss you, but I know as well that you are here.
May God bless you. You have done your work here. It was time for you to go home. May you hang your hat and enjoy what "Papa God" has prepared for you. I'm sure that heaven is excited to see you!
All our love.