I woke up in a bit of a panic wondering how long I had slept. “Where are we…what time is it?” I frantically asked my husband. “It’s okay honey” trying to calm me, “We are about an hour from home." I got on the phone, being the airlines were finally open and booked our tickets to Minnesota for later that morning, giving us just enough time to get back to our apartment, pack a couple bags and get to the airport. As soon as we got back to our apartment we began throwing clothes in our suitcases haphazardly, as our minds raced a million miles a minute. We didn’t talk much but just kept moving. All the same questions that had plagued me on the drive home were re-playing in my mind now, like I was on a vicious hamster wheel running frantically in circles with nowhere to go. I still didn’t have any answers and one question would just prompt another and another and another - round and round they would go in my mind. Every moment I wondered what was happening with my Dad, and was so afraid the phone would ring. All I could think was, “Hang in there Dad…I’m coming home.”
Everything seemed to take forever, as if things were moving in slow motion. The ride to the airport, the plane ride home, the car ride to the hospital - even the elevator ride up to the ICU. I just wanted to get there already! I was in a race against time to get to my Dad before something else happened. God forbid the unthinkable. Which was unthinkable for sure. It was most certainly not a reality, of any kind, that he could die. There really was no way that could happen. He had a heart attack before and survived, so this would just be a longer recovery and more involved. At least he was in Minnesota where he was most comfortable, had lots of family support, good hospitals and the comforts of home I told myself. That would help I was sure. He was only sixty-one years old. He could get through this. Besides, he was the nucleus of everything. Most certainly one of the most important parts of my world and frankly so many others. His ministry had grown exponentially over the years and he had staff that volunteered to help run his office, type his sermons, run his newsletter. He was feeding so many spiritually with his writings, sermons and newsletter around the world on a continual basis, as well as counseling couples and families regularly and teaching people one on one. He touched people almost everywhere he went. He was like a magnet, people were drawn to and inevitably he would end up in a spiritual conversation with them that changed their lives. God was most certainly using him mightily, so I knew deep down that he would be okay because...he had to be.
When I arrived at the hospital, finally, I rushed in his room. It was dark, the lights were low and there were machines beeping. He was on a ventilator and had a large tube down his throat. His eyes were closed and he looked unconscious. I was stunned. I had a rush of adrenaline flow through my body then a sick feeling in my stomach followed. Oh my gosh. This is bad. Really bad. I hadn’t realized he was in this condition and in my rush to get here, I didn’t ask and no one told me. My Mom said, “Sit by him and talk to him, he can hear you.” I trepidatiously sat in the chair beside his bed and softly said, “Hi Dad.” His hand began moving around like he was searching for something and my Mom said, “He wants to hold your hand.” I put his hand in mine and he squeezed mine tight. “I got here as fast as I could” I said. He squeezed it again. As I sat there holding his hand, and talking to him, the shock and reality started to set in. He looked horrible. It dawned on me….what if this is the last time I get to talk to him? What if this is it? I panicked. I had so many things I wanted to say but didn’t know how. My heart swelled with emotion. How could I possibly impart to him how much I loved him? How could I share all the things in my heart. I wanted to help him now and I felt so helpless. He looked so helpless. How could I comfort him? My mind raced. Then all of the sudden...I thought of something. He had written a manuscript about his life. How God had touched him as a little boy, with a vision in the sky and how God worked throughout his life to draw him in and teach him, as he sought out God’s Ways fervently and searched for God with all his heart. He saw it as a script to a movie. A movie about his life. He said he could literally see it - like a movie playing out in his mind. I remember thinking, when he first told me about it, how does he think this is going to happen? Does he think he is going to run into some movie producer and they are gonna want to make a movie about his life…just like that? I remember it seeming so impossible. Like, how could that ever happen? I felt bad now for not believing in his vision because I knew how much it meant to him. I knew it was something he saw, that could be a reality, and so then and there I said, “Dad, I want you to know that I’m going to get that manuscript published for you…somehow, some way….I’ll make it happen - okay?” He squeezed my hand even harder. “I’m going to tell your story” I said, and then he squeezed my hand four more times in a row with a real intensity and wouldn’t let go. I could feel the emotion through his hand, which, brought more emotion up inside me. With a tremble in my voice I said, “I promise Dad, I’ll find a way.” I meant every word I said, and it was maybe the last thing I could ever give him…if this was really it. I would find a way to fulfill his dream. I didn’t know how but I would figure it out. I had promised him now and there was no turning back. Before I starting bawling my eyes out, I got up and told him I would be back in a little bit…”I love you Dad…I love you so much” my voice trembling. He squeezed my hand one more time and held it. I didn’t want to let go.
When I went out into the hall I looked for my mother. I needed to find out more about what the circumstances were and what the prognosis was. I needed my questions answered. She was talking softly to a doctor behind the nursing station. I went to the waiting room where most of my brothers and sisters were, and waited for her to find me. My siblings started to tell me that this second heart attack, less than a week behind his last one, had damaged his heart pretty badly. At this point there was no way to know if he would survive or not. This heart attack had been worse than the first. Everyone’s faces were solemn with grave concern. The doctors would know more in the next day or two. It was all about waiting at that point. There were so many emotions dangling in the midst of that room. The moments of silence were so thick you could cut them with a knife. It was like when everyone stopped talking all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. At one point, a couple of of my brothers started bantering about all the things my Dad should’ve done to prevent this. I detected a tone of sarcasm and judgement in their voice. I couldn’t stand to hear it. My skin crawled and something started boiling up inside of me. I couldn’t believe that in this sacred moment that anyone would even think to tear him down or say anything negative, so I spoke up boldly. "I absolutely will not have anyone saying anything negative about him or tearing him down. Now is the time to show him love, and support him through this terrible time. I cannot sit here and listen to that kind of talk while the man is lying in a hospital bed on a ventilator and might not make it through the night. Can we agree we won’t do that? We cannot do that. Now is a time for love and togetherness, supporting each other as a family, so we can get through this. Promise me we won’t do that, not now!” In that moment from somewhere deep inside came a strength and conviction I hadn’t realized was there in all of my physical weakness. I was going to fight for him and his integrity…if it was the last thing I did. When I was done talking the room was stone cold silent and everyone was staring at me. I couldn’t believe I had just said all that and more with such conviction nonetheless. I held my breath. My older sister came over to me and hugged me and said, “When did you become so wise?” I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure if what I said would be accepted or if the room would break out in a brawl of words. I was relieved when we all agreed to be supportive to the situation at hand.
Of course we were all in shock and just dealing with it in different ways…denial, bargaining, anger, grief…all those emotions that run through you like a raging fire when you are struck with a tragedy out of nowhere, like a matched dropped in a dry and deserted forest. Some of my siblings were not as close to my Dad and literally only saw him a few times a year even though they lived in nearby towns. Not everyone in our family supported his ministry and the sacrifices he made that involved us as a family. Some of them had resentment and struggled in understanding him and who he was, because that meant he couldn’t live up to the expectations they had of what kind of father he should be or perhaps, they had dreamed of. I, on the other hand, had always admired him for his sacrifice and understood his passion and desire. I realized the greater purpose and calling that drove him from the time I was a little girl. I grew up in awe of him. I found myself living my life with a similar passion and dedication as I was growing up. He and I were close as a result. I was more intimately involved and interested in his ministry and zealously supported it. Being the last of the two children at home, I had spent time with him that the others could not, being they had moved out, gotten married and some had children of their own. It is true, our childhood had many difficulties and we all made sacrifices, whether we wanted to or not, so our father could do this work he was so driven to do - to live out this greater calling that literally drove him his whole life. His calling to share the message of salvation God had given him. I am sure in that moment, in that hospital waiting room, some of them realized they may not have the time with him they had longed for or hoped for and thought one day would come. We always think there will be more time...another chance, to say the things we always wanted to say, to make amends, to forgive, to move on, to rebuild a relationship or at least a hope and dream of that if nothing else. There may not be that time now. Yes, emotions were running high for sure and for good reason.
The next couple days were spent sleeping in waiting rooms, eating meals in the hospital cafeteria, hinging on every moment waiting for news. Things didn’t change much those next couple days. He was still in the ICU and was being monitored carefully, still on the ventilator. They had restrictions on visitors, being it was the ICU, and we were a big family to begin with but somehow my mother worked it out with the nurses to let additional visitors in - perhaps telling them he was a minister and there were some very close, personal friends who wanted the opportunity to see him in case he didn’t make it. They gave her permission. What ensued was a deluge of extended family and people from his Bible study and ministry that came in a steady flow…day and night. Even though he could not communicate, people tried to talk to him. Sometimes when the nurses insisited he needed some rest, people would just stand in his room and stare at him…praying I am sure for God to heal him and bring him back to us. People were literally lined up. I remember helping my Mom organize them. I would say, “Okay, they are going to have five minutes and then you can go in for five.” Literally watching the clock and keeping things moving. I thought it was too much. I understood where my Mom was coming from but the family wanted and needed time with him and it was very overwhelming to have so many people coming and going and trying to talk to them. Us trying to console them…them trying to console us. It was just a lot. That was just one of the things I had become accustomed to….sharing my Dad….with everyone. Even though, it seemed in this moment - we shouldn’t have to. This moment seemed sacred and special and one that should have been left to the family. I was concerned about all my siblings getting enough time to be with him. I knew they there were things to be said before the chance ran out. But…it wasn’t my decision - it wasn’t my choice, so I did the best I could to bear with it and help my mom organize the visitors. When the nurses agreed to let a few extra visitors in…they had no idea what they had agreed to. I could tell that were not prepared for the chaos and not necessarily happy about it either.
After being completely exhausted and drained I found my back in one giant twisted knot, due to sleeping on strange surfaces and therefore not sleeping much at all. My mom and the nurses encouraged some of the family to go home and get a good night’s sleep. He could be like this for days - they just didn’t know. I hated to leave, for even a moment, in fear of what might happen if I wasn’t there, but I knew I could not keep this pace. After being assured my mom would be okay there overnight and thinking that maybe she needed time with my Dad alone, I went home to my parent’s house. It made me sad to see our childhood home without my parents in it, and knowing where they were and what they were going through at that very moment. Normally when I came home it was for joyful reasons…to spend time together, celebrate a birthday, an anniversary, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day. This was so different and felt so strange. As I walked into the house it was like I was looking through a frosted pane of glass. Everything was kind of fuzzy, blurry and surreal. I knew I was home but there was such an emptiness here now. This house was not a home without my parents. It was the strangest feeling. I didn’t like feeling far away from them. I had traveled all this way to be near them but I knew I needed some sleep. I always slept in my old room downstairs, and enjoyed it normally, on my visits home but this time was different. I couldn’t even think about going downstairs in the cold basement, to my old empty room. I walked into my parents bedroom on the main floor and crawled into their bed. It made me feel closer to them to snuggle up in their sheets and blankets. I checked to make sure the phone was right beside me and working, so I wouldn’t miss a call if one came in. When I was assured things were as they should be, I closed my eyes and fell into a very, very deep sleep….
♥️LGOF