So hard to believe he's gone...

It's still hard to believe he's gone.  My Dad.  The man who, in spite of physical weakness, showed me what strength can look like.  The man who taught me so much about so many "little" things.  The man whose determination to get all he could out of life carried even to his deathbed.

Dad, whose last years of life were a roller coaster which many times left us breathless with the anticipation of the unknown.  Dad, who hung in such a fine balance between life and death for so long, but who somehow managed to lean back into life so many times.  Dad, who fought so hard all his life to win against the odds.  He's gone.

A couple days before he died, I was sitting with him.  So many things he said those last days were so hard (and sometimes impossible) to understand, but this time, it was clear.  He looked me in the eye, and said, "I'm going to die before this is all over."  I said, "Dad, you're ready for that, aren't you?" He nodded.  That was the day he helped me sing "Happy Birthday" to my niece who turned six.  It was also the day that he got up into his wheelchair for the last time.

He was in bed, but he kept insisting, "Get me out of this chair!"  "Get Me Out Of This Chair!"  "GET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR!"  Finally, thinking he needed a change of position, we got him out of bed, and INTO his wheelchair.  He was not impressed.  "GET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR!!!"

Finally, Mom asked him, "Are you wanting to get up and walk?"

"YES!"

"Do you remember that you are not able to walk?"

"No."

"Do you realize that if I tried to help you stand, that you would fall down?"

"No."  He seemed really skeptical that she was telling the truth, but finally, he sighed, and said, "Well, I guess I'm at your mercy!"

A couple days later, he never had to worry about that old wheelchair again!
*****
My dad got to meet my little boy.  Our son was not quite 6 weeks old when we got the call that we should come if we want to spend time with Dad.  There were several times that my Dad and my son got to "stare" at each other.  The most precious moment, etched in my treasure chest of memories, was when Dad's whole face lit up brighter than I had seen it for months, and he talked and cooed to my little boy.

It was an experience I can't find words to describe, to sit beside my dying father and rock my newborn son.  I will always treasure that experience.  And so, one night, in the middle of the night, some rare moment when both my father and my son were asleep but I was wide awake, I attempted to put words to those feelings.  This is what I got:

Musings from the heart of a mother and daughter...

My little boy’s journey has just begun,
My Daddy’s journey is almost done.

My little boy’s strong, my Daddy’s so weak.
My little boy’s hungry, my Daddy won’t eat.

My little boys cries,
My Daddy sighs.

My little boy calls out for his mother,
My Daddy asks to see his brother.

My mother-heart wonders,
My daughter-heart ponders

Will my little boy be faithful and true
To the Faith and the Truth my Daddy knew?

I commit them both to my Heavenly Father—
My little boy, and his Grandfather.

Joy Mast Miller 12.13.14