This poem helps describe how our family has felt in the last few months, as Dad's condition has deteriorated so quickly. I remembered the last time I'd seen him, about three years ago, walking around and pretty much normal. (Even his mind was mostly alright, although he did tell me the same joke four or five times in the space of a couple days!) When I walked into my parents' house a few days ago...was that really my father? How could that very ill, skinny man be my active, smiling, punster father? I wanted to cry as soon as I saw him.
JOIN THE RAINDROPS
Sometimes my heart is safe and dry
when angry clouds appear,
when lightning splits the heavens,
and thunder splits the ear.
I watch them through my window;
they're not in my terrain.
It matters not how long they last...
I'm not out in the rain.
But sometime my heart is caught unwarned;
new squalls threaten my peace.
They bring icy uncertainty
as their forces they unleash.
My soul is soaked; it's hard to see
beneath the darkened skies.
Huddled outside...I fear the cold...
and then I realize
it doesn't matter where I am,
Grace shields and keeps me warm.
I can smile and join the raindrops
as they're dancing through the storm!
Let praise drown out the thunder!
Let hope the spirit fill!
The storm will only last until
Our God says, "Peace, be still."
- Becky Rhon
I didn't cry right then, but I have since. All of us were crying as we sang song after song last night around Dad's bed. My older brother and his family live here; my sister has been here a while (from Texas), living with my parents, to help out; we arrived a few days ago from Ecuador; and my younger brother and his wife got in last night from New Mexico. My parents' only two granddaughter were there - our Debbie and my older brother's daughter. (All the rest of the grandchildren are male, and most of them will be here in the next few days. Dan arrives tomorrow.) We have all been telling Dad we love him, are grateful for him and have so many things to thank him for. He's not very responsive, but last night when Debbie whispered in his ear "I love you, Grandpa", he responded, "I love you". (She said to me, "Grandpa told me that he loves me!" It was so special.) And when my mom leaned over and said "I love you", he said "I love you, too"...but with that special tone he used only with her, his companion for almost 63 years. She said, "I'm your wife", and he said "and I'm your husband." Mom had always been afraid he wouldn't know her in the end, but he knows her!
A couple days ago I said to him, "You'll be going to heaven soon!" and he said, "Not yet." I believe it was because my younger brother hadn't arrived. But now we're all here. The hospice people think he'll most likely pass away by the weekend.
We couldn't afford to come up twice, so we came while there was a chance of interacting with him, even if it meant not coming for the funeral. Now it looks like we will probably still be here for the funeral!
Dad was always sort of impervious to pain. That's a blessing, because pancreatic cancer is one of the most painful cancers, besides one that kills most quickly. But so far the only discomfort has been the catheter, which he detests! (I don't blame him!) Now it seems that he's starting to feel a little pain, but means have already been provided to make him as comfortable as possible in his last days.
Side note: Dad is also immune to poison ivy. So when he was a boy, if he had a special place in the woods (or wherever) that he didn't want others entering, he'd rig strands of poison ivy around the entrance!
Many people came to know Jesus and God's love and salvation through my father's ministry. We went to Ecuador when he was only in his 20's (I was l yr. 9 mos.); now he's 84. He learned the Indian language, reduced it to writing and then translated the New Testament...all this before computers, cassette recorders (he only had a reel-to-reel), internet, etc. Then later he trained some of the Indians themselves in basics of translation so they could work on an abridgement of the Old Testament.
He was a wise, honorable and patient man, and though we'll miss him, we can reflect on his very productive life and know that this man we love so much will be arriving at Heaven's door soon, where not only will he see his Savior, but also the many who were shown the road to heaven through our father's faith. (He will also see his sister, who passed away recently, and his parents...and our two little grandbabies!)
So we commit this warrior into the loving arms of his High King, and let him know that it's OK to leave, any time he's ready, and that we'll take good care of Mom. "Father...here's my father."
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