In Honor of My Father

Yesterday, was Halloween. One year ago on Halloween I had just returned from a Reformation party at our church. We arrived home sometime after 10:30 pm. Then I received a phone call from my mother to tell me that my dad was being flown to a hospital in Tulsa, OK because he had just had a brain aneurism. I remember I called my brother and we had to make the difficult decision of whether or not a neurosurgeon should operate and try to save his life. I remember I was up all night praying that God would let him live, and most of all to be sure that he was right with God. The next day we headed to the hospital in Tulsa. I was shocked to see my dad on the ventilator and not moving. He did respond when I spoke to him and he stroked my hand with his thumb when I asked him if he could hear me. I stayed off and on at the hospital for almost a month. My brother was there even more than I was, he only left when he absolutely had to, to go check on his place and his cattle. At first it seemed that our dad might get better, there were hopeful signs because he was responding, but he never completely came out of the coma like state that He was in. I spent alot of time reading scripture to him, singing to him, going over the gospel with him, and I truly believed that He was going to get better. Words can not describe how hard a time this was for our family, especially for my brother and me, our Aunt Margaret (dad's sister), and Treva (dad's girlfriend). We knew that dad wouldn't want to be on life support but we kept wanting to hold out in hope that a miracle would happen. One thing that was amazing through all of this is that my brother and I were always united on everything, there were never any arguments between us. We just wanted what was best for our father. You never believe something like this is going to happen to you or to your family until it does. Some of our family celebrated Thanksgiving at a local Golden Corral, afterwards I went and sat in Dad's room and watched football on T.V. for a little bit to try to have some normalcy, and talked to my dad rembering how much he enjoyed watching football when we were growing up, and just talked to him, telling him how much I love him, what a great dad he is. It would be the next day that my brother and I would find out that there was no hope for my dad. His kidneys were failing, he wasn't taking dialysis very well, and the MRI had shown another stroke in his brain (with no chance of recovery). Our hearts sunk. My brother and I both went our seperate ways for a brief time, I think, to try to wrap our minds around what we had just heard. Paul, my husband, was there with me when we got the news. He walked outside with me. We went to our car in the parking lot. I got in and screamed with everything inside me. I kicked my feet on the floor and yelled at God. No, please, please this can't be. Please don't allow this to happen. Don't allow my dad to die. Not long after that we made the decision to have him taken off life support. Call me crazy, I still wanted to believe that maybe he could make it. That evening was the second longest day of my life. Abby's was the first. We were up all night waiting for my dad to die, but he didn't that night. Which to me was some small miracle, it reminded me that life and death are in God's hands, not man's. In fact it wasn't until the next afternoon that my dad passed away shortly after 5 pm on November 29th, 2009. It's been a year, and it is hitting me again that He is no longer here. Another year, more upcoming holidays without him, without Abby. It's not right, and it's not fair. I know I am supposed to look toward Christ's return and that I will spend all eternity with them, but that doesn't lesson the pain or the fact that I wish I could see them now.