Wow! Sometimes I wonder where these emotions come from...
One minute I'm fine...and then I hear a song, smell a certain aroma, recall a memory and I'm one blubbering mess.
A year ago this weekend, I went to Nashville to celebrate my daughter's birthday. When I came home, my dad was upset for my leaving. He wasn't himself, I know that, but I still recall the hurt I saw in his eyes. He wasn't supposed to be driving. He had been under the care of home health for weeks. He had not driven in weeks and he showed up at the nursing home to do his Bible study. I said, "What are you doing here?" He replied, "What do you mean, what am I doing here?" To which I said, "You aren't well, you're not supposed to be driving." He responded in anger, "How do you know what I'm supposed to be doing? You haven't been here."
That day was the end of his nursing home visits. That was Monday. We talked seriously on Wednesday night. He admitted to me that he had said his good-byes to his "class" and would no longer be back. He cried and said, "It's time." He fell that night. My phone was dead. He punched his lifeline. The ambulance came. I saw the next morning that I had several missed calls from him and one from my sister and one from my brother. I knew that something was wrong. I called my sister. "He's fine. Had a fall. Checked out okay." Went by the house. "Daddy, how are you doing?" We was in bed with his c-pap on as usual. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Go on to work now. You don't want to be late. I just had a little fall." We was always concerned about our job security. He worked for the same church for 60 years, 47 as full-time pastor. The rest as pastor emeritus and pastor of visitation. He didn't understand the changing work force.
My brother stayed with him on Friday. We usually took turns making sure that he had dinner and was ready for bed. My brother didn't feel right about leaving. The next morning he woke daddy up to get him breakfast and before he could get back to the kitchen he heard him fall----for the last time. He regained conciousness to tell the EMT who he was and we never talked to him again. He died 6 hours later-a brain bleed that started when he fell a few days before.
There's so much I wish I had said. That was March 12. I'm struggling tonight with regrets over missed opportunities.
Thought I'd share a little of my blue with you-both emotionally and literally.
Like sands on the sea of time, so are the days of our lives. Sand dollars are plentiful at Hilton Head and I lay them around everywhere so that I'll feel close to the shore. Daddy made it safely to the Heavenly shore. I wonder if there are sea shells there?
Sometimes a single treasure is all you need. My Daddy was a treaure. He lived a life of service and touched one single person at a time. He believed in building relationships. His evangelism was the kind that was lived out daily...often without words.
A little sweet spot in the midst of the pain-my daughter's picture. Gonna wash those blues right out of my head and celebrate her 30th! Her granddaddy was proud of her and all his grandchildren.
Happy Thoughts Tomorrow!