Sunday was 2 years since we said good-bye to my Daddy. As soon as the first day of December arrives, so do the memories of those final days.
There are the precious ones;
My brother picking up Daddy and carrying him to his truck...because he was too weak and frail to do it himself.
The doctor telling my Daddy "There is nothing left to do...Go home Doug and spend time with your family." Not 5 minutes later, Daddy was on the phone with a friend from his home town of Carthage, discussing the possibility of renting a travel bus to take him to see his Mom before he died. As I sat there listening to his conversation, trying to control my emotions from the news that we had just received, I hear my daddy laughing and smiling that beautiful smile. Oh how I miss hearing that laugh.
When I heard the diagnosis of Lung Cancer, all I wanted to do was get to my Daddy. I was blessed to spend that final summer with him. Working in the yard, taking him to treatments @ the Mayo clinic, or just being together. Sharing those days with him and my children have been one of the greatest gifts the Lord has given me.
With the happy, so too, comes the sad.
Seeing my Daddy for that first time was such a shock. I had returned home just 7 weeks prior and he was still working, still driving, filled with Hope and an unbelievably positive outlook! He began having some pretty serious issues and this time, I knew, could very well be my last trip. Walking into his bedroom and seeing that frail man, my daddy, trying to be so strong for my brother and I, just ripped my heart to pieces. His attempt to be strong was short-lived, as his body was just too weak.
As we were leaving the hospital for the last time, the Dr. had told us that he didn't think daddy would be gone in "days" but that most likely, he had "a week" maybe even "10 days" before we would say our last goodbye. Once we got him home, by the following morning he began the process of letting go. He was gone within 3 days of leaving the Mayo Hospital.
Losing my Daddy hit me hard. Very hard. My faith, for the first time ever, was shaken. From the moment I learned of his Lung Cancer diagnosis, Prayers began. Not just my prayers, but prayers from all over the world! Through my blog, and through Facebook, we were amazed at just how many people were praying, where they were praying from or offering up my Daddy's name for healing to take place. Not a day went by that we didn't receive a prayer, a note in the mail, or an encouraging word. It was so humbling. I KNEW God was at work through HIS People and in the heart of my Daddy.
Why did it take so long to find this cancer? How could there be sooooo many praying, yet at every turn, hope was diminished? Two years later, I still don't have these answers, nor do I think I ever will, this side of Heaven. My prayers for healing weren't answered in the way I asked, but my Daddy WAS healed. He was healed the minute he was in Eternity with HIS Heavenly Father.
I see him in my Son, his work ethic, his love and amazing knowledge for technology. I feel him with me when I want to pick up the phone and talk to him ~ To share something about my kids, or ask him a question, or maybe just to hear his voice. When I am outside working in my flowerbeds, the memories flood my mind as I think of all the times we worked side by side planting, mowing, picking weeds, or just talking about gardening. I am thankful for all of these and countless others that God allows me.
Gods Word tells us there is a season for everything. A season of grief is not one anyone would choose to go through.
But God has given us the Holy Spirit and when our hurt is so deep that we cannot even pray ~ He prays for us. HE comforts us in our pain and our sorrow. He gives us Peace. A Peace that truly passes all understanding.
I miss my daddy every single day. But knowing he is Home, with Jesus, seeing more than we could ever imagine! One day.. I Will see him again.