It was Saturday night. I was standing on stage amidst over 300 voices and instrumentalist. Just hours earlier I spoke with may dad. "What are you doing?" I said with a chuckle in my voice. "I don't know," he said with his usual laugh. Dad was in the hospital. He had gone by ambulance the night before due to excessive pain. Melenoma had taken over many of his organs, including his heart. He hid is pain well. Until that night. So he and I chatted. I wish I could remember what I said...what he said...I told him I would be flying home the next morning and I said "I'll see you tomorrow."
400 years of silence. God's people were wondering where He had gone. Then one day, a Light came. And there was singing. Hallelujah! Emmanuel. God is with us. I tried to sing, mostly in my heart, cause the sound would not come out through my tears and pain. "All is well, all is well..." We had to sing it. I tried to mean it. And again we sang "Hallelujah! Our God is with us!" It may have been during that refrain...or another...I don't know...
We exited the stage. I went to a quiet place. There was a voice mail. "Dad is with Jesus..." He's singing Hallalujah! Our God is with us. And he is with our God.
I miss my dad.
Don, I was privileged that you used my cell phone for that important call. You may or may not remember that I called you to coordinate the conversation with your dad. I held the phone up to his ear at first, but he eventually held it on his own. The call was only a few minutes long and I remember the last 2 statements. You said, "I love you, Dad" and he reciprocated, "I love you, too." That's when you said you would see him tomorrow. He confirmed with a full sentence, "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow" sounding very sure of himself. I recall, at that point in the day, he was likely to see you the following day based on his condition. We didn't have any test results back but his demeanor was fairly alert. I believe he truly thought he would get to see you "tomorrow". However, God had other plans. "Today" was the day.
ReplyDeleteYour dad worked hard and played hard, as evidenced by the eulogy you wrote. It's a good reminder that we should do the same.
It's funny how life seems so routine. Until it's not anymore. We take the routine for granted, begin to depend on it. Expect it as the way things will always be. Then life changes. I'm so sorry that this was how it ended for you and your dad.
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