Heartbreaking. Joyful. Sacred. Horrible. Precious.
Those were the kinds of moments we spent together as a family at Dad's bedside yesterday.
It was truly the Lord's hand at work that allowed all six kids and mom to be together in the room when he died. One brother was just about to go out of the hospital for an errand, Debbie had been gone for the hour right before his passing, and another brother had just arrived twenty minutes earlier.
We noticed that Dad's breaths were coming further and further apart and after waking Mom, who was napping in the room, we called the nurse.
She came in with a stethoscope and said there was still a faint heartbeat. A minute or two later, she listened again and said, "He's gone."
I must stay that I've written a lot of words in my life, but there are very few words I can think of that can describe the feelings encompassed in that moment. Seeing Mom in tears, leaning over to kiss her husband of fifty-three years was dear and heart rending, all at the same time.
When Mom had regained her composure a little, she looked at everyone in the room and stated with a joyful, firm conviction, "He's really alive now!"
We wept with each other, hugged each other, and comforted each other--in doing so, we found peace for our own hearts.
Steve, Nathan, and Sarah are flying in today (I'll write about the provision of those flights in another post) and the funeral will be tomorrow.
We'll all fly back home on Sunday and Nathan will leave early Monday morning for the 560 mile drive back to school.
I have many more stories to write from the week (some serious, some funny) but for now, there are dozens of details I must attend to in the next few hours.
I've been so touched by the comments that have been left here and I have been amazed to watch the hit counter climb and climb. It's incredible to think that strangers all over the world care about our family enough to follow my dad's journey home--where he's really alive now!
Those were the kinds of moments we spent together as a family at Dad's bedside yesterday.
It was truly the Lord's hand at work that allowed all six kids and mom to be together in the room when he died. One brother was just about to go out of the hospital for an errand, Debbie had been gone for the hour right before his passing, and another brother had just arrived twenty minutes earlier.
We noticed that Dad's breaths were coming further and further apart and after waking Mom, who was napping in the room, we called the nurse.
She came in with a stethoscope and said there was still a faint heartbeat. A minute or two later, she listened again and said, "He's gone."
I must stay that I've written a lot of words in my life, but there are very few words I can think of that can describe the feelings encompassed in that moment. Seeing Mom in tears, leaning over to kiss her husband of fifty-three years was dear and heart rending, all at the same time.
When Mom had regained her composure a little, she looked at everyone in the room and stated with a joyful, firm conviction, "He's really alive now!"
We wept with each other, hugged each other, and comforted each other--in doing so, we found peace for our own hearts.
Steve, Nathan, and Sarah are flying in today (I'll write about the provision of those flights in another post) and the funeral will be tomorrow.
We'll all fly back home on Sunday and Nathan will leave early Monday morning for the 560 mile drive back to school.
I have many more stories to write from the week (some serious, some funny) but for now, there are dozens of details I must attend to in the next few hours.
I've been so touched by the comments that have been left here and I have been amazed to watch the hit counter climb and climb. It's incredible to think that strangers all over the world care about our family enough to follow my dad's journey home--where he's really alive now!