In Remembrance. My Father

Journal Entry: October 25, 2004 - Monday

I spoke to Mom on the phone tonight. They took Dad down to the specialist in Idaho Falls to see if he was a candidate for a stunt to be placed in his head to drain fluid off his brain. He (the doctor) leveled with Mom that he was not at all confident that the procedure will make any difference in his mobility and Parkinson's. Taking him off his medication (blood thinner) endangers him to stroke, but necessary before they will do the procedure. Putting the stunt in may make the clogging and drainage even more dangerous.

Mom was just asking what my feelings are in connection to leaving him alone verses going ahead and taking chances on the procedure. We are going to collectively take it to the Lord.

My main reason for recording this account is I want to remember, and pass along some of the sweet memories my Mother shared with me tonight.

She said she sat at her new home tonight, listening to Joe Polka, and told me how much Dad loved to listen and dance to Joe Polka, and what a wonderful dancer he was, and that all she wanted was to be in his arms again, dancing. We cried together for awhile as I felt her loneliness and love for this man and the memories they have with one another, and realizing she will not be able to dance with him again until the next life.

Dad is not happy. We wonder if we should do anything to prolong the agony he is going thru - not an agony of pain, necessarily, but the pain of the loss of freedom, to move and do for himself he so richly cherished. It is so degrading to him to have to be taken care of by these young girls at the nursing home because he cannot do anything by himself anymore. I know that hurts him.

I know he is in prison. But I rue the idea of hoping his passing is soon. Mom says he sleeps so much these days. She said he hopes he can just go to sleep one time and pass into the bliss and freedom he so deserves. How can I want this for my Father? Yet, is seems the most merciful way of thinking.

God, help me with this decision. What is best for Dad. Is his journey over, his mission complete? If so, take him home... welcome him into paradise to his loved ones passed. Grant him the righteous desires of his heart. Please let us know Thy will, I pray Thee...

……………………………….

My Father passed away January 10th, 2007. My Mother, brother and two sisters were there with him during his last moments. They have described the events of that time. One sister described it as "horrible" to watch.

The nursing home had summoned them to come, that they felt the time was nearing. We had had a false alarm a week before when he suffered a series of mini strokes that looked to be too much for his frail body to deter. I cried thru most the nite accepting the fact that by morning he would no longer be with us.

But with the tenacity of a Danish man we had all come to expect, the following days astonishingly saw him improving.

When they arrived at the nursing home that day, they found my Father fully conscious and very labored in his breathing. The nurse pulled the covers back away from his legs explaining that this was for real - his heart was no longer strong enough to circulate blood thru his body and it was already succumbing to gravity and pooling in the underside of his extremities… that it was just a matter of "a few minutes"...

My Mother held his hand and tried to sooth him and tell him it was ok to let go. Having been unable to speak for almost two years due to the onset of Parkinson's, my brother told me he just kept looking at them, eyes wide and pleading, "Why don't you help me?!"

His passing was not pleasant nor peaceful as described to me by my siblings. My sister told me that when he finally did leave, that his body went limp, his face almost immediately started to ashen an his eyes glassed over.

Two weeks or so earlier I had knelt at his feet during our Christmas visit, promising I'd be back in February and for him to just hold on. Tears welled in his eyes and then trickled down his cheeks. I joined him in weeping, told him I loved him, kissed his hand, stood, then took my leave. I think we both knew then we would not see each other again in this mortal existence…


I miss you Dad...

……………………………….

I never got to properly mourn my Father's passing. Events in my life at that time and the selfishness, inconsideration and insensitivity of another of that, made certain. I'm still try to reconcile that with myself.

It is hard.

The Man at McDonalds

As I sat eating in a McDonalds one day, a man walked in who had all the signs of being homeless and having no money. His clothes were dirty, his long, shaggy hair and beard were tasseled, matted and unkempt - he looked like a wild man or a man possessed - or maybe someone who was just scared and had no hope. I suspect he spent the night in the streets. He walked up to the counter and asked for a cup of coffee. I don't know whether this was a ritual and the cashiers knew this man and had given him coffee before, but he secured the cup of java and proceeded to a table just across from me. He held the paper cup between his hands as to absorb the warmth.

Initially I tried to avoid eye contact but soon realized he was looking far beyond me out the window into the distance. I wondered what he was thinking – what kind of fear he might have – if he wondered what the day would bring. His eyes were the most beautiful, clear and blue I had ever seen. They betrayed the rest of his features which looked far too old and worn for such youthful and magnetic eyes.

He sipped the coffee, seeming to savor each drink. I was slightly embarrassed when I finally snapped to my senses and realized I was staring at him while these thoughts and others were going thru my head. I could not get the stark contrast of those eyes in the midst of the misery that the rest of his physical presence exuded. I felt strongly impressed to approach him and ask him if I could buy him a meal. I sat and enumerated in my mind all the reasons not to act on the impulse – it would embarrass him, it would embarrass me, etc.

As I contemplated my next move, one of the workers came over to his table with a tray of food saying, "Someone wanted to buy you lunch, so here it is." A look of overwhelming joy came over his face as he could barely mouth the words, "Oh, thank you!" I watched every bite, every french fry, disappear into a dark hole in the midst of all that amassed facial hair and could nearly feel the security and warmth each bite of food provided him, as if I were eating it myself.

It didn't take long for the meal to disappear completely. He gathered his scant belongings, perhaps his whole material world, and left. I sat for some time contemplating all that has just happened. I felt terrible that I had not been the one to buy him his moment of joy, but was also glad that someone else saw and felt the same need as I had. I thought of the parable of the good Samaritan and Jesus Christ saying, "Even as ye have done it unto the least of these your bretheren, ye have done it unto me". And again I lamented my inaction.

But, I will never forget that man at McDonalds. His eyes pierced me, hauntingly, as no others ever have. I saw a lost and hopeless soul for a moment see meaning and am confident that he went forward then to share what bit of humanity he had received with someone else in need. That day, a hungry, ragged homeless man at McDonalds taught me about Jesus Christ and how far I must yet travel to become like Him.

Overture

Like January's temperate turn chill

Icy, knotted fingers weave thru

heart's sinew

Squeezing life to

welcomed death

And what could not

be realized previously

sees it accomplished

so quickly

a soul dies