Dad reminded me of Popeye, the sailorman. He was a short, navy vet, and had a laugh that was distinct. He hated snakes and mowed the lawn with his pistol. Addicted to nicotine, he tried to stop smoking, but the pipe would make its way out from hiding, packed with tobacco and puffed, or a cigar would be lit while working outside. He was a Detroit Lions fan. He was the fan that would watch three hours of football on a fall, Sunday afternoon, yelling at the television, “Next year will be our year. Next year.” He was of Irish decent…aka short. Dad loved to play card games; Euchre, Hearts, Pedro.
He was involved with my summer league youth softball. Buying us girls bubble gum for the games and introducing me and another girl to the suicide bunt during a time out…she was on third base while I was up to bat…we scored! He also helped another girl from my team learn how to drive a manual in his four-door Dodge Omni on the back roads after a game.
He had many jobs but his last was his longest. He worked for Kent County as an auditor of hotels and motels. He also had a side business of preparing income tax for people. I remember typing envelopes for him…that is how I learned how to spell Cincinnati. He would have people come to the house after dinner and we would need to be quiet as he met with them or he would travel to their place if they were older or unable to drive. I remember he would trade things for his services. Another memory of tax season was…10 minutes on the phone. There was no call waiting growing up and he didn’t want his clients getting a busy signal when trying to get ahold of him, so my brother and I were limited to 10-minute phone conversations…you know the phones with a long spiral cord that you stretched out to get away from anyone listening.
He loved bowling. Men’s league and Couples league. A lot of my Friday nights were in the bowling alley while he and mom bowled. My favorite snack was the Nestle Crunch bar from the vending machine that I had to use all my might to pull the handle in order to release that candy bar. Then I would eat meticulously around the edge of the candy bar, then around each letter of Crunch…memories. He was good at bowling and had fun. The bowling alley is where I would sell most of my Girl Scout cookie orders. The bowlers were super kind.
His love language was gift giving. He loved to give gifts. Christmas was a struggle for Mom because Dad would have a hard time sticking to the budget.
In 2012, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and three months later we were having his funeral. As I have previously journaled, I had a dream he was going to pass away the night before his diagnosis. He suffered with MG (Myasthenia Gravis) for over 25 years, yet the ugly C word took his life in a flash. Having to decide so many things in those three months…whether or not to allow him to smoke (he loved his pipe and cigars), to buy him the sugar foods he craved, to place him in a nursing home or not, then finally…when to take him off life support.
Mom had to work for insurance. My brother was in a different state. I was a stay-at-home mom, which meant I was Mom’s helper. Our older three boys were in a public school at this time and the two younger kiddos we were fostering, which had its own responsibilities. A few times I was called in the middle of the night, to go over and help Mom lift Dad off the floor. He would fall out of bed. He loss muscle strength and couldn’t get up. He spent so much time in and out of the hospital during those three months, in Grand Rapids and Ann Arbor, Michigan.
I wasn’t sure if Dad had a saving faith. Dad knew “Who” Jesus was, but did he believe He was his Savior AND did he have fruit to show his faith (even the rocks know Who He is). He had a rough upbringing. He felt that many people “wronged” him, so he was bitter. I tried to get him to understand forgiveness. Scripture tells us that if we don’t forgive others, we won’t be forgiven. During the last week of life, he asked to see certain people. He forgave them. I could see the fruit of his faith…forgiveness.
My mom would work all day and spend the rest of the time visiting him at the hospital until visiting hours were over. Then, she would drive an hour home to sleep and do it all over again the next day. Thanksgiving occurred during these three months. He was discharged and had to have a feeding tube because swallowing was difficult. So many tubes and equipment. She was NOT comfortable with what was being asked of her. She was overwhelmed but wanted to submit to her husband because he refused to be any place but home. I wasn’t sure if being home was wise, in fact I wonder why they would release him…looking back they probably knew more of his outcome than we did or anticipated.
One night, sometime after Thanksgiving, I drove Mom down to the hospital because he flatlined. His directive said to revive until family could come. What was happening was exactly what was in my dream…driving the round-a-bout at night…seeing him from the hallway, lying in the hospital bed. He eventually woke up but the vent never came out.
I was the one who asked if he was ready; ready to come off life support. He couldn’t speak because of the vent. Fine motor skills were limited as well so writing on a pad of paper wasn’t an option. Mom couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ask. I remember her coming to my house that night, December 17, 2012. She was knocking on my front door. It was late. The kids were in bed. I wasn’t sure who was at the door. It was Mom. Exhausted. Eyes red and swollen. “I don’t know what to do. I think it is time to call your brother.”
So, the next day we were with Dad in the hospital. My brother and his wife. Me and my husband. And Mom. I looked at him and asked if he was ready to see Jesus. He shook his head yes. So, the medical staff did what they had to do to prepare him. He was free of all wires, plugs and what-nots. We all circled around and prayed for him. Then my sister-in-law and my husband both said their good-byes and left the hospital. She had two kids to attend to and my husband had our five. Mom had tried to make his hospital room cozy, festive (since it was Christmas time). But it was stark. Cold.
Then we waited…Mom, my brother and I…for him to pass…awkward. I remember how awful it felt. Trying not to watch him. Trying TO watch him. Grabbing a last glimpse. Recording any detail I could in that room. Sometimes he would sit straight up in the bed and start hugging the air…not sure what to do, I just watched. Was there anything else I should do? Say? Will he live off support? That would be divine intervention. A miracle that wasn’t meant for us this time. The hospital staff were very kind. Not interrupting. They posted a note on the door.
The demons haunted my mom for years about “pulling the plug.” It was his decision, not hers. He was cognizant enough to make the decision. He was ready. It was in the afternoon of December 18, 2012 that Dad asked to be taken off life support. He passed late that evening.
Time after his passing was spent distracting mom. Inviting her to everything. I kept thinking if I included her in our lives her pain would be less. No. I was wrong. Only Jesus could help her. Dad’s void needed to be replaced by the Shepherd Himself and not by her daughter. And I needed to start the healing of my own. Yes, I am good at ignoring the work that is needed on my heart.
Why do we ignore the work? Pretend it isn’t there. Because it is hard work and uncomfortable. So many emotions that I don’t know what to do with them all. But if I want to heal, then I have to address the emotion…I have to allow God access to my wounds and help me process and heal…such vulnerability…such a process. But God is patient and full of grace…waiting for me to draw near to Him.
There are days when I remember so much about him and then there are days when I don’t think about him. But then one of the kids will talk about a memory and I relish it. Or one of the kids has a love language of gift giving as well and I am reminded. Or another kid has some of his mannerisms that I just smile at because I see Dad again…live. Thank you, Jesus, for those reminders.
I am ONE story.
~ Kristy
James 2:14-26 NLT (New Living Translation)
14 What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? 15 Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, 16 and you say, “Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well”—but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do?
17 So you see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless.
18 Now someone may argue, “Some people have faith; others have good deeds.” But I say, “How can you show me your faith if you don’t have good deeds? I will show you my faith by my good deeds.”
19 You say you have faith, for you believe that there is one God. Good for you! Even the demons believe this, and they tremble in terror. 20 How foolish! Can’t you see that faith without good deeds is useless?
21 Don’t you remember that our ancestor Abraham was shown to be right with God by his actions when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? 22 You see, his faith and his actions worked together. His actions made his faith complete. 23 And so it happened just as the Scriptures say: “Abraham believed God, and God counted him as righteous because of his faith.” He was even called the friend of God. 24 So you see, we are shown to be right with God by what we do, not by faith alone.
25 Rahab the prostitute is another example. She was shown to be right with God by her actions when she hid those messengers and sent them safely away by a different road. 26 Just as the body is dead without breath, so also faith is dead without good works.
Matthew 6:15 NIV (New International Version)
15 But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.
James 4:8 ESV (English Standard Version)
8 Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.