Remembering Daddy

For some time, I have been wanting to reflect on the full story of dad's passing from a full life to an even fuller one.  It has come to me in pieces, and I wanted to somehow put them in one place.

Early last year, mom had been given a sense, she later realized as from the Lord, that things were about to change.  Looking back on this later, she felt fortified and comforted by God preparing her in this way, for something she was then unable to conceive of.

Dad has always been the first one up the path, the one to leap with agility from rock to rock, the one eager to explore.  So when our family gathered at a Tennessee cabin, last June, and he opted to stay behind at the cabin while we explored the State Falls, I was taken back, and wondered at the seriousness of the pain he was dealing with.  That, and the way that he stepped gingerly, and shifted uncomfortably while sitting were the only indicators of the pain and discomfort he was in, since he never complained.  

He made his way out to the field with the boys to fly their airplanes and rubber band rockets, and even did the "floss" dance gleefully in the driveway, as our car pulled out on our way home. 

Daddy and the fam sending us off with their gleeful rendition of the "floss"

Later we would learn that what he had thought were a strained groin muscle or dislocated hip were actual cracks in his pubic bone and pelvis, as well as cancerous masses in his abdomen.  All the while he bravely managed the pain. He went in for further testing.  There was a concern that the initial x-rays showed some bone destruction.We received an email as a family about this.  

We prayed and waited for the results of the CT scan and the MRI.

It showed cancer throughout his bones and several organs, the most serious mass being within his bladder.  They shared the news with us, and then with their church community and friends near and far by sharing this email.  The hope at that point was to treat it naturally, and mom devoted herself to extensive research to determine which foods would be most conducive to helping his body heal without the poisons of chemo or radiation, which they ruled out from the start.  When dad could hardly stomach, even the simpler of foods, the original plan had to be adjusted to include simple and nutritious foods at regular intervals.

He shared the following email with loved ones, near and far, and began to get a stream of responses.

He held court with various visitors.  PeeWee made an appearance, wherever he went, and testified to his resilient and contagious sense of humor.

He asked that all of us come at once, and God gave us the most beautiful gift of all 6 of us being together at the ranch, with mom and dad.  During that visit, we shared our last meal of all of us gathered around the table together.  Daddy stood carefully at the sink to show Lisa and I the optimal way to peel and devour a pomegranate.  We looked at each other, across the sink, savoring the sweetness and fleeting nature of this moment, thinking back over the countless ways that Dad had taught us the best methods for taking on so much of life.

I sat with him one morning in great pain, and watched him pour out his heart before the Lord, thanking Christ for his sacrifice on the cross, and interceding with tears for all those who were suffering great pain at that moment.  He soon began to take morphine in addition to his other medications, out of necessity, as his bones were brittle and continuing to break, even amidst simple daily activities.  Hospice was started and while waiting for his hospital bed to be delivered, we cleaned out from under mom and dad's bed, and made space in their room for one twin and one hospital bed.  The sadness would hit different ones of us at different times, and we would often stand in silence, holding one another, feeling incredulous about the pace at which our dear father's strength and stamina were seeping away.  It was so difficult to part, knowing that eternity would likely be our next meeting place.
The day he passed was a Sunday.  Lisa had just arrived, and she, mom and Elana were gathered around Daddy.  They were there when he passed peacefully away.  The song on the playlist that Elana had created, I Can Only Imagine, came on the moment he passed. When I got the call, I knew what it was.  Once Lisa arrived and got to see Daddy one last time, I had been praying that God would take Dad home that day.  It felt strange to ask that of God, but it had gotten so difficult for him to remain, and I knew that God would do what He sovereignly knew best.

The weather on Saturday, November 10, was beautiful.  Mom and Dad's sweet neighbor showed up with three bags of Panera bagels and cream cheese for breakfast.  We puttered around the yard, finishing the table cloths, and putting out the lovely flower arrangements mom had created the afternoon before. 

The program that mom and dad's friend Eric printed 500 of, was such a gift. The flower arrangements were beautiful, and we set out the basket from Irian Jaya, Daddy's dog tags from Vietnamn and his well-loved Bible on the table at the entrance.

The service started with great reverence, as we stood for the military ceremony of unfolding, and refolding the American flag, as we stood at attention or with our hands over our hearts and Taps was played on the trumpet.  The kind solder saluted and then approached mom, and kneeled before her, presenting her with the flag and these gently spoken words: "This flag is presented to you by a grateful nation.  it is an expression of appreciation for the honorable and faithful service rendered by your husband. Please accept our sincere condolences. God bless you."  That moment felt so beautifully American. I have often forgotten about this aspect of dad's life and service, and I felt especially grateful for our country and felt the value of his service to it.

The service was seamless, sacred and authentic: We were welcomed by Nathan, and I loved hearing the words that Dad would have spoken to us. We were prayed over, got to sing together, to hear Scripture, to reminisce about the joy of the Lord which characterized Daddy, and to experience the beautiful flow of Dad's life in visual images. We heard from their loving pastor, and received mom's courageous prayer over all of us. "Like an anchor," Lisa called it.  Several people mentioned they felt that the time was anointed, and I certainly felt that way.  One woman who was sitting behind the family, remarked on how precious it was to see the line up of towering grandsons, wiping their eyes, with the littlest, wiping his eyes again and again.  The beautifully laid out reception of home baked cookies and fruit was so well done and there were many people to connect and share with. 

I got to talk to one of Dad's friends afterwards, and hear how watching this process of Daddy's passing and the Body coming around them and walking alongside them has caused he and his wife to possibly rethink their plans to head for another state for retirement.  Despite their tiredness with the pace, craziness and politics of life here, they see the preciousness of this kind of church fellowship, and are hesitant to leave that behind, amidst the uncertainties of life.  We talked about the call to "do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God" regardless of the commotion around us.  I believe it was Eric that said that Dad was the first person to talk to them when they first visited New Life, and that was the beginning of their entry into the Body, which has since become an integral part of their lives.

Two other people spoke to me about the fact that Dad had reached out to them at church, and called them by name the following week, and how much that had been a part of them feeling like there was a place for them at church.  A young, tear-filled mom spoke of the way that Dad played a special role in their children's ministry, and how much it meant to her boys the way he would actually seek them out on Sunday mornings, just to say "hi."  Marcy talked about the way that Dad had come twice to help her replace some rotten flooring and cabinetry in her apartment kitchen, and how she hoped that Dad had gotten the card that her husband had wanted to send him from prison.

People surrounded momma so much, that I don't think she ever made it out to the patio.

I especially loved seeing Mom's sweet prayer circle of friends gather around her, and my heart was comforted that she will continue to be held close by them.

Back at the ranch, the afternoon unfolded in a leisurely way, as we gathered in a circle to pray and eat a fresh and flavorful meal.  The food was delicious, the table arrangements facilitated great connection, and there was the perfect amount of seating. Elana facilitated as we played the "airplane game", which Ben said he especially enjoyed, with Lisa leading out in honoring dad and sharing sweet memories.  I learned that Dad was a great shot with a pistol, from Uncle Bill, and especially loved what David Reynolds shared about dad, asking himself "What would Jim do" to help him discern what would glorify God in a situation.  Adam talked about how Dad had helped his heart to heal and to believe that family life could be good. Both Bradley and Angelo attested to the role that their years at Mom and Dad's played in their getting through seminary and life and ministry. It was funny to hear Angelo tell of Dad chiding him on the way to his wedding, to not get cold feet, but to just do it!, when he was calling for a different reason. And Bradley spoke about how Dad would create these crazy contraptions for a mechanical advantage, and how they would work, and get the job done! Dessert was epic, and plenty more sharing followed. Again and again, people spoke of the gift of hospitality that they have experienced through knowing mom and dad and being on the property, and I was reminded of what a special grace that is.

 It was beautiful to see Cousin Marilyn and Elana sharing a deep, loving and prayerful conversation. Barbara said that Marilyn is increasingly disoriented, but that she is always rock solid and fully present and engaged when it comes to Elana. 

 Watching the kids roam about the place was renewing.  There was frisbee throwing, ladder climbing, stick fighting, fruit picking, and dirt cake making and flinging.  So good to see our kids connecting with their extended family, and enjoying the wonder of the little ones, in particular.  I walked around bare-footed all afternoon.  There were reems of pictures, almost more than some could stand, but I think we all felt the rareness of all being gathered in one place, like that, and it feels good to have a visual record of us grouped up, though we'll never forget it regardless.  Chris texted on his way home: "I miss you guys already!!! It was so good to meet your wonderful family!  Watching another generation of cousins enjoying the ranch was just the balm my heart needed!"

We played two new group games: "Why and Because" and "Telephone Pictionary" with Angels flinging a donut at a bird, getting high marks.  Mom brought her journal of the events of recent months, which I look forward to reading more carefully. 

We hugged up and packed up and headed back to the hotel at 6:30, which felt more like 9:30, after such a meaningful and eventful day. I really can't envision how this day of our dear Daddy's memorial could have gone more beautifully, in that both blissful and poignantly painful way.  My heart feels so grateful, and full of love, and brimming with longing, and sweet sadness.
On the way back to the hotel, it was special to hear the kids' recollections of the day.  They said I'd "actually" done a great job speaking, said how cute Levi was and how fun it was to play together and how they'd miss Grandpa.  Ben said, " No offense, Dad, but Grandpa really was the perfect dad and Grandpa in every way."  I won't argue with you there, Bill said.