It’s been 5 years today since my Dad died. He was 80 so I can’t complain. It was expected-unexpected, if you know what I mean. He had an infected hip replacement. But his heart was too weak to undergo an operation to have it removed and replaced with a better one. So for the last 2 years of his life he lived with a lot of pain. That was my Dad, Mr. Tough-It-Out. On September 15, 2006 he ate breakfast. Then he went into the living room and sat down in his favorite chair. By the time Mom went to wake him up for lunch he was already gone. While there’s no good way to die, dying in your sleep in your favorite chair is pretty close to perfect in my book.
I remember getting a panicked phone call from my sister while I was at the office. Dad had a heart attack she said. The paramedics were trying to revive him even as she spoke. Little did we realize it at the time but he was already gone. Soon it became official. Dead. Gone. I remember the wave of emotion that swept over me. Even though I was expecting it sometime, I wasn’t expecting it now. I started to cry. Of course, there were phone calls to be made. To Beth. And then to each of my kids. I wanted to be the one to tell them. I cried each time. I was shocked by how forcefully the wave of emotion hit me.
It’s tough when you lose your Dad. Especially when he was a good one. That was my Dad. He only had an 8th grade education but he didn’t let that stop him. He came across the border from Canada and joined the military at 17. He made it over to Germany at the end of the war. He married and had 8 kids. I’m the oldest. And proud of it.
In many ways my Dad was a very special man. His word was golden. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. And he was Mr. Commitment. When he did something he was all in. He never complained. He loved to laugh. He loved to serve. He loved his family. And would do anything for them.
In the early years, things were pretty lean. My Dad worked 2 jobs just to put food on the table. There was nothing extra. We were poor. And us children didn’t even know it. Still, somehow my Dad came through for our birthdays and Christmas. No wonder why he wore the same pants until they had holes in them. The man knew about sacrifice.
My Mom never learned how to drive and so Dad drove us everywhere. The store. To doctor’s appointments. Church. He worked 8 - 10 hours a day. A half-hour commute each way. Came home and mowed the lawn. Worked around the house. Visited people in the hospital. Helped widows. Played with us kids. The guy only slept 4 hours a night. Quite frankly, I don’t know how he did it.
In 1982, he had a quadruple by-pass. Boy, was that a wake-up call for him. He immediately changed his eating habits. Lots of chicken. He lost weight. No more all-you-can-eat buffets. (In his younger days his eating habits were legendary. He told me once that after a meal he had 17 pieces of pie. I don’t care how you slice it, that’s a lot of pie!) And he began to exercise. By riding every night (after he came home from work) on his stationary bike.
The connection that Dad & I always had, beside being the oldest, was that I was used by God to bring him to Jesus. At age 8 or so I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Lots of 20-mile trips to Children’s Hospital in Buffalo during that time. He came up to see me every night. Finally they decided to operate. The prospects for my survival were bleak. The night before the operation my parents (who were not Christians at the time) made a bargain with God. If He would spare my life, they would serve him. Next morning, they didn’t go through with the operation. Something had changed. I don’t know what but I do know Who. I never did have that operation. And the brain tumor disappeared. Miraculously. The brain surgeon even said so. We started to go to church. One that didn’t preach Jesus. Several years later, we started attending one that did. One Friday night I went forward during a service and gave my life to Jesus. Dad said that he was proud of me. He was next. Then the rest of the family.
Years ago Joni Mitchell sang a song that included the line, “Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got until it's gone.” Ain’t that the truth. No matter how much we try to appreciate people and not take them for granted, we do. I miss Dad.
Fortunately I know that I am going to see him again. We’re going to hug. And laugh. And talk. And serve. And worship Jesus. Sounds like Heaven to me.
Lord, I thank you so much for the earthly father that You gave me. How great an impact he had on my life. Thank you for the many years that You gave him. And all the lessons that I learned from him. Help me to be half the man that he was. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
I remember getting a panicked phone call from my sister while I was at the office. Dad had a heart attack she said. The paramedics were trying to revive him even as she spoke. Little did we realize it at the time but he was already gone. Soon it became official. Dead. Gone. I remember the wave of emotion that swept over me. Even though I was expecting it sometime, I wasn’t expecting it now. I started to cry. Of course, there were phone calls to be made. To Beth. And then to each of my kids. I wanted to be the one to tell them. I cried each time. I was shocked by how forcefully the wave of emotion hit me.
It’s tough when you lose your Dad. Especially when he was a good one. That was my Dad. He only had an 8th grade education but he didn’t let that stop him. He came across the border from Canada and joined the military at 17. He made it over to Germany at the end of the war. He married and had 8 kids. I’m the oldest. And proud of it.
In many ways my Dad was a very special man. His word was golden. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. And he was Mr. Commitment. When he did something he was all in. He never complained. He loved to laugh. He loved to serve. He loved his family. And would do anything for them.
In the early years, things were pretty lean. My Dad worked 2 jobs just to put food on the table. There was nothing extra. We were poor. And us children didn’t even know it. Still, somehow my Dad came through for our birthdays and Christmas. No wonder why he wore the same pants until they had holes in them. The man knew about sacrifice.
My Mom never learned how to drive and so Dad drove us everywhere. The store. To doctor’s appointments. Church. He worked 8 - 10 hours a day. A half-hour commute each way. Came home and mowed the lawn. Worked around the house. Visited people in the hospital. Helped widows. Played with us kids. The guy only slept 4 hours a night. Quite frankly, I don’t know how he did it.
In 1982, he had a quadruple by-pass. Boy, was that a wake-up call for him. He immediately changed his eating habits. Lots of chicken. He lost weight. No more all-you-can-eat buffets. (In his younger days his eating habits were legendary. He told me once that after a meal he had 17 pieces of pie. I don’t care how you slice it, that’s a lot of pie!) And he began to exercise. By riding every night (after he came home from work) on his stationary bike.
The connection that Dad & I always had, beside being the oldest, was that I was used by God to bring him to Jesus. At age 8 or so I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Lots of 20-mile trips to Children’s Hospital in Buffalo during that time. He came up to see me every night. Finally they decided to operate. The prospects for my survival were bleak. The night before the operation my parents (who were not Christians at the time) made a bargain with God. If He would spare my life, they would serve him. Next morning, they didn’t go through with the operation. Something had changed. I don’t know what but I do know Who. I never did have that operation. And the brain tumor disappeared. Miraculously. The brain surgeon even said so. We started to go to church. One that didn’t preach Jesus. Several years later, we started attending one that did. One Friday night I went forward during a service and gave my life to Jesus. Dad said that he was proud of me. He was next. Then the rest of the family.
Years ago Joni Mitchell sang a song that included the line, “Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got until it's gone.” Ain’t that the truth. No matter how much we try to appreciate people and not take them for granted, we do. I miss Dad.
Fortunately I know that I am going to see him again. We’re going to hug. And laugh. And talk. And serve. And worship Jesus. Sounds like Heaven to me.
Lord, I thank you so much for the earthly father that You gave me. How great an impact he had on my life. Thank you for the many years that You gave him. And all the lessons that I learned from him. Help me to be half the man that he was. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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