I Remember My Dad

"Hey, Johnny. It's time.", my Dad would softly say from the bottom of the short stairway up to the three small bedrooms in our tiny home on the East Side of Youngstown, Ohio. It was how he woke me up in the morning. Somehow, he knew just how loud to say it without waking up my grandfather or Mom in the two adjoining rooms.

I've been thinking a lot about my Dad. Maybe it's the holidays. He so looked forward to Christmas every year. Maybe it's seeing Mom begin to struggle.

After a great Thanksgiving with the family and seemingly in healthy shape, he was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer on Dec 10, 1989. He had met his grandson and was a pretty happy guy until that moment. The Doctors told him, with treatment, he might live another year but it would not be a very comfortable year. I didn't understand his decision at the time, but he declined anything other than something to ease the pain. It wasn't until near the end that he told me that he had watched his brothers, sisters, father and mother die slow, lingering deaths and he would never put his family through that. That was my Dad, always thinking unselfishly about Mom and me.

That year was not a good Christmas.

When I saw him, he had already begun to lose weight fast. We had a good time over Christmas. He took such joy in giving gifts. He would hand someone a present and watch them intently. Then his eyes would sparkle as they opened it. He relished Christmas and all it stood for but always stopped short of naming Christ his Lord and Savior. I though Dad's eyes sparkled more than ever before but we were all trying hard not to talk about what was happening....maybe for him but maybe for us as well.

After the holidays, time flew by way too fast.

On Feb 5, he had been in the hospital for 3 weeks and was taking massive amounts of morphine for the pain and was unconscious most of the time. When he was awake, he wasn't making much sense. His Doctor called me, in Warrenton at dinnertime to tell me that Dad was lucid. He could hold off on the morphine for a short time. If there was anything I wanted to say to him, now was the time. I drove to Youngstown faster than I ever have before, praying that God would go before me and get me there in time. When I got to the hospital, he was sitting on the side of his bed. He looked bad. He looked over his shoulder at me and said,
"I knew you would come."
"Dad, you know what's coming, right?"
"Yes, I wanted to tell you to take care of your Mom."
"It's not Mom, I'm concerned about right now. It's you."
"Don't you worry about me."
"I am, Dad. There's business you have to take care of with God. He's given you this time so you can come to Him."

Dad trembled. I had never seen him tremble before. He looked at me with huge tears in his eyes....

"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because........I've killed people...."
"Do you want forgiveness?"
"Yes, I'm so sorry for what I've done...."
"All you have to do is ask, Dad."
"I can't believe that. the things I've done are too terrible...."
"Dad, you've seen that God '...knew your days before there was yet one...'. Do you believe that?"
"Yes."
"So, God knew all that and He still sent His Son to die for you. He knew all that and He still loves you so much He wants you to come home to Him. Let's pray right now."
"No, I have to think..."
"OK, but you don't have much time and the meds are going to kick back in real soon."
"I know......I want to sleep now. Tell your Mom I love her."

These would be the last words I would hear from him. It was the most amazing and saddest conversation I had ever had with him. I grieved mightily as I walked out of the hospital.

I went to my Mom's house and spent the night with her. Dad was not lucid the next morning. The Doctor was confident he would not regain consciousness but would live another 'week or so'. I went home that afternoon to wait.

The following morning, Feb 7, just 58 days after the initial diagnosis, Dad passed away.

There was no memorial service, no one spoke. people just shuffled in to the funeral home and shuffled out. Mom said Dad wanted it that way.

The following morning, I got a call from his Doctor.

"I'm, sorry for your loss. He was a really nice guy."
"Thanks, Doctor. You're right."
"You know, your Dad only gained consciousness once after you came to visit him. It was the morning he passed away. I was with him."
"How was he, Doctor."
"He was happy."
"Good."
".....he told me to tell you he "took care of that business you were talking about.'......I thought it might be something you needed to know."

Sometimes, early in the morning, I'll be dreaming...... Sometimes I dream I'm back at home....I can hear his voice say, 'Hey Johnny! It's time.'

I thank God because it was my Dad's time....in every way....it was my Dad's time. I thank God for long drives late into the night. I thank Him for the strength and courage to say the things that need to be said. I could never have done that under my own power. I thank Him for the amazing grace that plucked my father from the hands of the enemy at the last possible moment. I thank God that, when it's my time I can go with total confidence that He is waiting for me.

Christmas is a wonderful time of the year.....but only because He is such an awesome God.