In the autumn of my life, my father died quietly and without a lot of fanfare...which is exactly how he chose to live his 95 years. But the story of how he impacted myself and my siblings started back in the spring of my life.
In 1951, three months after I was born, my parents found "Shorty's Little Acre" four miles outside of Otsego....which would be my "home" for over fifty years. No matter how far I strayed in the ensuing years, my family always found their way "home" to MI...for Christmases, for summer vacations, for special events. The roots Dad planted in that place were gifts of stability and security to us five siblings. Sometimes he and I struggled. As a youngster, I didn't understand or appreciate Dad's gift of teaching and perfection. My older sister was gifted in those same ways, so she was happy to learn the right way to paint, the right way to bowl, the right way to swing a bat, the right way to garden....but me? Not so much. In some ways I resented his expectations: did it really matter if there were paint streaks? did it really matter if I hit the gutters more than the pins? To this day, I dislike painting and bowling, probably because I never received his approval in those activities. But in other more important ways, he was teaching me... the value of hard work, the value of saving, the value of family, the value of spending wisely, the value of laughter, the value of independence and letting go when it was time. Though my parents never once discouraged me, I knew that my finding a Bible College to attend in South Carolina was never on their radar; yet, they cut the strings and let me fly. Perhaps in my deepest heart of hearts, I was a dreamer and maybe Dad realized that his middle child was going to blaze her own trail, far from his nest of comfortability.
He released me.
In the summer of my life, our lives were centered in PA with ministry, kids' activities and making ends meet. We didn't get home enough - but Dad faithfully chauffeured Mom through the mountains of Pennsylvania to show his support to our kids as they participated in spring and fall sports. He was still teaching me...the value of sacrifice, the value of selflessness, the value of family. During this time I recalled my 11 year old birthday self, not excited about the gift I received of a painting for my bedroom wall (especially when I really thought I might get a bike). I was close to tears when Dad came through the back door and handed me a Meijer bag. In those days, there was only one Meijer store in Kalamazoo, and I never knew he ever went there. So surprised, I opened it to find a brand new parka...a parka that he had picked out, a parka that I loved, a parka that salvaged my disappointing birthday. That was the only time he ever picked out a birthday gift for me, but I will never forget that memory. He taught me... the value of making my kids' birthdays special. After 13 years in PA, we found ourselves back in Otsego...back from our wandering, back from some hurts and disappointments in our ministry life, back for some healing. Opening their home to us for several months, my parents loved on us with a quiet diligence so we could re-group. Dad taught me.... the value of giving, the value of family.
He supported me.
In the autumn of my life as we settled back in MI, there began a slow reversal of roles. After the devastation of two daughters' deaths, Dad's health took a huge toll. This strong man crumbled on the inside, which in turn affected him physically. At one point we sibs were taking turns staying with them as Dad found he could not walk anymore and was virtually crawling to the bathroom. After finding the right meds to help him, he graduated to a walker, but life was changing. We began driving them to their appointments, filling their pill boxes, writing their checks. Even though he had more health issues than Mom, she was always his primary concern. His looks of love and concern over her are still in my memory bank, along with his mischievous grin when she was irritated with him! He taught me.. the value of loving your spouse well. We first found them a retirement apartment where they lived happily for 8 years, but then an assisted living center was necessary. Through it all Dad was teaching me... the value of acceptance, the value of adaptability. I thought about all the events in his life: the death of his father which caused him to quit school at 11 years old, the closing of the company where he had worked for over 30 years, the loss of his daughters..... did he ever dream that he could have done better? Did he ever think life was unfair? I never saw that. I simply saw a quiet, determined man who took what life gave him and figured out the next step. In those 3 years of assisted care, he continued to teach me....the value of kindness, the value of patience, the value of being interested in others, the value of treating the staff with respect.
I supported him.
On February 21, 2019 as I sat by Dad's bedside, I was given a special gift. He had been unresponsive for a few days, but after singing and sharing my heart with him in those early hours; he awoke and locked his beautiful blue eyes with mine. He let me ramble on a bit through my tears, and in empathy one lone tear rolled down his cheek as he mouthed the words "love you". A few short breaths later, he was gone. As I have pondered over this, I recently realized something. In 1988 as my 93 year old grandma lay in a coma, I prayed diligently that she would wake up to say goodbye to my mom --but it never happened. I was greatly disappointed with God, making me doubt how to pray effectively over the years. Could my good-byes to Dad actually have been God's special grace in answering that 30 year old request? I won't know that answer this side of heaven, but this I do know: on his deathbed Dad taught me .....the value of saying I love you, the value of empathy, the value of precious goodbyes.
In the winter of his life, I released him....just as he had taught me.
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