104
Posted By Sherry on July 3, 2008
I’m glad my dad doesn’t have to celebrate his 104th birthday today. This isn’t a commentary on people who live that long. Some make longevity a goal, and anyone who lives past the century mark should be congratulated. My dad packed more than a century worth of life into his 92 years, so when he died in 1996 I couldn’t really feel bad about it. I did feel bad that I didn’t have more time to “play” with him once I’d made the no-small effort to move him from Jacksonville, Florida, to a Newberg care facility. I had sugarplum visions of taking him a McDonald’s chocolate shake every day, of sitting in his room while he talked on and on (and on and on) about Victory in Christ and his story of sevens. But after only two weeks, he up and died—just like that!
I got a call from the nurse saying, “Your dad is telling us he’s dying and he wants you to come.” Of course I was there in a flash, only to find Dad fully dressed, sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for me. “Dad, what makes you think you’re dying?” “Well, I’m closing up,” he said. So in total denial, I sat on his bed and talked with him about who he’ll see when he dies and what he wants to happen at his memorial service. He wanted me to write it all down and insisted on signing it. Then he asked me to sing “Since Jesus Came into My Heart,” and I agreed to sing it if he would direct me (since he had been a choir director in his day). A curious audience began to form at the door as he directed the chorus in Cliff Barrows style. That accomplished, an aide came to push Dad down the hall to lunch. Uncharacteristically, he resisted. Since he was dying, he didn’t see much sense in eating lunch.
But caregivers and daughters are prone to move on with our agendas, so I urged him to go to lunch and waved goodbye as he rode down the hall.
One of my dad’s favorite expressions was, “There’s nothing so foolish as regret.” I don’t see much point in regretting that it took a phone call that night to snap me out of my denial. I choose instead to embrace that wonderful scene in his room earlier in the day when we had the connection to beat all connections, still as bright in my memory as if it had happened today.
Mauri and I were traveling over the Fathers Day weekend, so I decided on this day, what would have been my dad’s 104th birthday, to post this collage that matches the one I posted of my mother on Mothers Day.
A day or so before he died, Dad gave me the “Victory” sign. What a way to go!
What a touching story!
What a great memory. It brings back several memories that I have. Thank you for sharing and for celebrating his life.