Will Never Forget

We were all packed up and ready to take my youngest daughter Haylee back to college in Eastern Pennsylvania.  On this particular trip back, my parents wanted to come and take a look at Haylee's campus and dormitory for her sophomore year of school.

It took us much longer to arrive than we had expected.  Along the way, my dad had to stop numerous times to use the bathroom.  His bladder was signaling to him that he had to go but in reality, he couldn't.  I couldn't figure out why we were stopping so often, thinking "is dad drinking too much soda or what?" Anxiety began to creep in that we wouldn't reach our destination at a decent time.  It never occurred to me that there was a problem, until my dad was in excruciating pain because of his bladder.

We stopped at a rest area just inside the Pennsylvania border.  I was adamant that my dad and mom should travel back to Michigan even telling my dad to drive Haylee's car back. Instead, we decided to find an emergency room because he wasn't sure if he could make it back.

God was going ahead of us on this one.  In Sharon PA, we found an urgent care center just a few miles off the expressway.  I was relieved to see that it was not busy.  My dad was taken into a unit to have his bladder drained.  They fitted him with a leg bag and a catheter.  Feeling relieved, we were soon on our way again.

My parents did get to see Haylee's campus, dorm room and meet some of her friends on that adventure.  It wasn't until two months later we received the awful news that my dad had stage IV prostate cancer.  I remember sitting in the office with my parents, my sister and myself when the doctor broke the news to us.  "Well", he said, the horse is out of the barn".  Meaning, there's nothing we can do but try to prolong my dad's life a little bit more.

My mom, sister and I walked with heavy hearts back to the waiting room while my dad underwent some lab tests.  We were stunned, shocked, our world had been severely shaken.

Through all the chemo, radiation, holistic treatments, juicing programs, labs, x-rays and much more, my dad was a trouper.  He would witness cheerfully to the medical staff taking care of him and was never a problem patient.  His focus was always on others not himself.

My dad eventually became bedridden because of the cancer, not able to attend church and share his warm, inviting presence with the church family, visit our home or travel to our cabin up north.  He was sorely missed.

Many came to visit my dad at home.  During their visit, he would talk about life, his family, and his God.  He never bemoaned his condition or felt sorry for himself. Not my dad.  He encouraged those who came to visit, inspiring them on to live a greater life for God and ending their time in prayer and praise.  How like my papa.

During his last days, he wasn't aware of his family around him.  My papa was already experiencing a little bit of Heaven as he lay dying. He was entering into that great and glorious heavenly home.  I remember him saying "all those books."  We were certain he was seeing the library in heaven with "all those books."

His gaze was continuously directed to the upper corner of his room, as if he was seeing events we could not see.

Finally, his breathing became labored, his last gasp of air was exhaled and my papa was taken to a better place.

That day will forever be etched in my memory.  

My dad was a hero in life, and he was a hero in death.