I miss you dad....

It's been one year since my father slipped quietly away from his earthly family, to the heavenly arms of his Father. It's been a year since I've seen my dad, longer than that since I've heard his voice, and longer still since I've felt his strong, fatherly arms around me in a hug. I miss so many things about him....most of all his smile. Dad smiled with his eyes. Kind, blue eyes that conveyed love, joy and pride whenever he looked at his wife, his children, his son-in laws, and his granddaughters. However, I can take comfort in the fact that we are still being graced with that wonderful smile....only this time, it is shining down on us from his new heavenly home. I love you dad....and I miss you.

This was my speech at my father's going home celebration....

I have so many wonderful memories of my father and I'd like to share a few today.

My childhood was filled with family....which, after his love for God was my father's greatest joy. He was an amazing father. One of my fondest memories were the nightly visits of Christopher. Christopher was a marionette my father made in middle school for a production of Ali Babba and the 40 thieves. He had kept him all those years, and my sisters and I loved him. Well, Gina and I did, but Jody had a bit of a phobia when it came to marionettes. I can remember sitting on the kitchen floor with my sisters, our Playskool doll house with the realistic doorbell all ready for a visit. Dad would start at the kitchen door and walk Christopher up the three stairs. He would say, "Hello girls! Can I come for a visit?" We would giggle and laugh and show him all through the house, talking as if he were a real person. We would always hate to see him return to his plain brown shoe box, but we knew he would be back again the next night. Dad would also read to us, our favorite story, "The Monster at the End of the Book" Oh how we loved to hear the voices he would make as he read it. Every Sunday we would go to church, rain or shine. My father was an Elder at the Presbyterian church, and I remember going with him as he delivered communion cards tothe congregation. My father loved serving at that church, and I can still see him reading a bible verse up in the pulpit. I don't remember the entire verse but it included Mark 14:47; "But a certain one of those who stood by drew his sword, and struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his ear." I remember this because I was thinking how much it would hurt to have your ear cut off! Aside from that, seeing my father serving in church stayed with me.

As a teenager my father continued to be a strong Christian role model for me. He and my mother were leaders for the junior MYF at the Methodist church. They would lead meetings and outings with teens and preteens....all of whom grew to love my father. During one particular retreat, dad proved that although he almost sank the entire MYF group on an overloaded pontoon boat on Shaffer lake, he was still a steward of God. As a teen I came to hold more responsibilities. Well, maybe a few responsibilities, one being mowing the lawn with our riding tractor. That was the best job because you could pretend you were driving! What I remember though are the hot summer days when I would be mowing, and dad would be in the garage in his favorite shorts, smoking his pipe and drinking coffee. I'd come in when I was finished, to the scent of cherry almond tobacco and the sounds of Harry Carray singing during the seventh inning stretch.

When I met John, my father took an instant liking to him. Being that he had lived for 18 years in a house with four women, he was ready for another man to come into the picture! And the day that John came over and helped my mother move a piano and china cabinet....it was like in those movies when the heavens parted and the angels began singing....I do believe my father decided at that moment, THIS was the man for his daughter....a man who not only knew about cars, but could move any of the countless pieces of furniture that graced my mother's living room! Soon after we were married, and I walked proudly down the aisle on my father's arm. He did a great job not crying....at least until he gave me away. To this day I'm not sure if those were tears of sadness or joy....one down, two to go! The next summer dad became a grandfather for the first time. I'll never forget him coming to the hospital....the look of pride on his face as he held Betsy for the first time. And what a grandfather he would turn out to be! Betsy and he became fast buddies....he would walk her, sing to her, and as she grew older was the only one who could make her coffee just the way she liked it....and yes, that was at the ripe old age of two! He would take her to the "horsey park" and for countless dilly bars at the dairy queen. When she was hospitalized for a kidney infection, he spent the night in the uncomfortable "lounge" chair, right by her side. With the birth of our second daughter, Hayley, he was still in rare form. They bonded over games of ball in the back yard, countless visits to the park with packed lunches, and hours of Barney videos.

As the years passed, we eventually moved only a few houses down from mom and dad. We needed to be closer than that entire half mile away! We spent holidays together, non-holidays, and Sunday dinners. When they began attending a "new" church called Suncrest, we decided to try it out as well. We soon became regular attender, and were known by most everyone....not by the names John and Sherry B.  but "Oh, you are Eddie's daugher! We just love him!" Suncrest was home for us all. When John accepted a new job in Florida, there was no question, mom and dad would move with us. Of course, it was not long after that dad was diagnosed with his disease. But we were positive about it, and resolved to do whatever it took to take care of dad. After the move he began slowing down, but we made accommodations for him. Soon he needed a cane to help steady himself. There was one other who enjoyed dad's cane almost as much as he did....and that was our dog Percy. He had grown to be dad's buddy. He would walk slowly in front of dad, almost as if he were trying to protect him from falling. When dad would sit down, he would reward Percy with a good scratch with the bottom of his cane. Oh how Percy loved that....and how dad would laugh. Sooner than we would have hoped, the cane turned into a walker, and then a wheelchair. However, as the disease progressed, my father never cried out and asked God why. He accepted it and went on. Sure he was disappointed, but he never blamed God....it was a lesson that we all learned by watching him gracefully accept what was happening, while still being thankful for what the Lord had blessed him with.

As my father's life drew to an end, I was blessed to have been there with him. For 12 hours we watched my father struggle for every breath he took. My mother, John and I would take turns holding his hand or wiping his brow, trying in vein to make him comfortable. We were told countless times that although he sounded distressed, he in fact did not know what was going on, and was transitioning, finishing up whatever he had left to do here on earth. Being his daughter, I couldn't bear seeing him in this state, and would take breaks every now and then to go outside and breathe in some fresh air, hoping to clear my mind.

Early in the morning I went home for a bit, to check on the girls and get an hour or so of sleep. When the phone rang at 5 am I knew who it was, and what it meant. Mom was calling me back, saying the time was getting near. I came in and resumed my spot next to dad who, although he was not struggling as hard to breathe as before, was obviously getting weaker. I would continuously feel his pulse....steady and strong. After another hour or so, I began praying that he would let go. I even whispered it in his ear, saying that I loved him, we all did and would take care of mom. If he wanted to go he could. Still, he held on. After an hour or so, I took a break and went outside. I was torn between wishing he would let go, and not wanting to lose my father. As I stood in the driveway, I looked up and noticed a woodpecker in the lone tree that stands in my parents yard. He was in the process of pecking a perfectly shaped hole in the trunk. I took this opportunity to take my mind off things and watched as he worked. He kept tapping. Over and over and over. From where I stood the hole looked finished and I wondered why he kept going. The tapping continued, he would bring his head back, take a look, and I thought for sure he would fly away....but no. He started that tapping again! I must admit, I found myself thinking it looks completed....why are you still tapping? The process went on for a moment until all of a sudden, in the blink of an eye he finished and flew away.

I went inside and sat by dad, holding his hand and feeling for his pulse. It was still there, and he was still struggling to hang on. It was then that I realized that it wasn't up to me when he would let go.. When his life was complete, when he had finished what he needed to do, is when he would go...not when I thought it was time. The Lord knows the exactly when we will all go home to glory, and that time can't be rushed. So, I continued to sit and wait, until he was ready. When the time came, it was in an instant. I reached for his pulse only to find that the heart that had come to Jesus as a child, sang to Him in times of joy and cried to him in times of sorrow, the heart that loved me through a lifetime stopped....but as his life here on earth slipped away, a new one was beginning. An eternity of joy and everlasting love, of wonder and awe. He took the hand of Jesus as he let go of ours, and entered the kingdom of Heaven, where I know with every fiber of my being that he is today, smiling down on us. In the blink of an eye my father flew to Jesus....and lives.