Remembering My Dad
On April 3, 2020, I got up like any other Friday — which is an off day for me since Sunday is a work day. The difference on this particular Friday was that I would have to help my mom take care of my dad. He had come home from a lengthy hospital stay that Wednesday evening, and he was in home hospice care.
He didn’t know it was the end of his life; I think he truly believed he would get better. He was making plans for taking Kenzie to learn how to drive, to watch Kayla and Hadley’s softball games, and to go back to church when we emerged from quarantine.
We had been told to expect two weeks to two months of hospice care. I was a little worried about the physical and emotional toll it would take on my mom. The Lord was merciful and took him home in less than two days.
I had to help my mom get my dad back and forth to the bathroom, a distance of maybe ten feet from the hospital bed he was staying in. He had taken his medication, which was making him drowsy, so it was a struggle. Right before we were getting ready to hoist him back into the bed, my mom said, “I don’t think he’s breathing.”
It was that simple. No dramatic ending, no deep final words. It was about as peaceful as you could expect.
The rest of the day had taken a new turn as we began to adjust to a new reality. Our family’s dry, sometimes dark humor kicked in right off the bat. My mom chuckled and said, “I wonder if we killed him trying to do too much this morning.” I laughed at the fact that anytime we went to a funeral home, my dad would try to get me to touch the body. I wouldn’t. He had the last laugh.
That afternoon was full of deliveries - flowers, plants, food - phone calls, texts, and memories. Loads of memories. My dad lived a long life, and we recalled the best and funniest moments.
One of the strangest things about that day is that we were in quarantine, so technically we weren’t supposed to have many people around. We did have a handful of in-person visitors, and I appreciated their hearts, but mostly it was just family.
Today is the one year anniversary of his passing. I’m continually grateful for God’s promises and knowing that he’s with Jesus and that I’ll see him again one day. The fact that it’s also Easter weekend makes the promises of the resurrection even more powerful this year.