April 8: Dad

My dad died today. My sisters and mom and I sat by his bedside all night last night, listening to his labored breathing, holding our own breath every time he stopped too long between gasps. He never woke up. So we chatted amongst ourselves and cried intermittently and finally, around 2 am, requested pillows and blankets and tried to sleep on wooden folding chairs. There’s something exhausting and guilty-feeling about waiting for death. The constant wondering if the next moment is going to be the last one together. Just after 5 am, when it was just my mom awake by his side, my dad simply stopped breathing. My mom said she had just told him he didn’t have to hold on any longer. He could go, and so he did.

I have to admit that when I first got the call yesterday that my dad had taken a turn for the worse and maybe wouldn’t survive the day, I didn’t want to go back to the hospital. It wasn’t that I had just made the three-hour drive back home, it was that I didn’t really want to face it. I wasn’t sure I had the energy or the strength to watch my dad die. But then I knew that whatever I felt didn’t matter. What was real was that the man who spent his life taking care of me and my sisters and my mom would be gone within hours, and I had the privilege to be there by his side. No matter how much it would hurt to see, this was a gift, to say a final goodbye.

I’m thankful my dad was a Christian. He believed that he was headed to a better place and had absolutely no fear of death. I know that made his final days easier for him. And I’m sure he was looking forward to seeing the many people he had lost in his almost 67 years: his own dad who died too early in his 30’s, his mom who suffered from Alzheimer’s, his brothers, his son, his best friend. It must have comforted my mom also, allowing her the strength to tell him to go to the others she believed were waiting for him.

The world lost a wonderful man today. A man with a hearty laugh and a deep love for people and animals and the Lord. A man of strength and honor and commitment. A man who loved my mother and her children as his own. He was my stepfather, but I never thought of him that way. To me he was always my dad. I’m thankful he entered my life so long ago. And I’m thankful I was there when he left so peacefully this morning.

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14 thoughts on “April 8: Dad

  1. Oh, Melissa, as I sit here in tears, I remember that great laugh and his concern for everyone…and how he loved all of you. I am so, so sorry…I had no idea! The last I had heard, he had been sick but was much better. But, then, that was some time ago. This tribute is absolutely beautiful as your writing skills always have been. Please share my heartfelt sorrow with your sisters and your Mom. Jim was quite a guy and I know he will be missed very much!! But I know he is in a better place tonight and happy!

  2. MC–Thanks for posting this! So sorry to hear about the loss of a great man! He taught me how to jump on the bed, water the flowers, and so much more. Know that your extended family loves all of you guys, and are feeling this loss as well. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know! It was a privilege to know your dad and to have his influence on my family is priceless. I know he’s in a better place and the memories that we have of him will live forever! Diaper Boy

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