Cherish Your Parents (while you can)

Cherish. This one-word comment was left on my Facebook page by a long-time friend. I had just posted the news that my brothers and I were holding bedside vigils during our dad’s final days. Looking back, I realize that my friend’s brief post hit the mark.

Dad gazing at Jane

While helping oversee the physical aspects of dad’s end-of-life care was of paramount importance, it was even more critical to treasure our final relational connections:

. . . to see a light of recognition in his eyes;

. . . to tell him how much he meant to me;

. . . to feel his parched lips kiss my hand.

These are moments I will always cherish.

If you still have your parents, I hope you’ll have the bittersweet privilege of being with them in their final hours.

But more importantly, I urge you not to wait until their lives are slipping away to treasure them.

Begin cherishing them NOW.

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Saying Farewell to Mom and Dad’s House

My co-worker and I were discussing plans for spring break from the college where we work.  “I’m going home,” she declared.  I knew this meant she would be traveling to visit her mom and dad several thousand miles away.   Though married and middle-aged, home was still where her parents lived.

Mom and Dad at door

Dad and Mom

I could relate.  The places where my mom and dad resided always represented “home” to me, no matter what my age.  Their house possessed an irresistible magnetic force, especially during the holidays.  It was where I could drop in anytime, be warmly welcomed, and stay as long as I wanted.  Mom and Dad’s home represented familiarity, comfort, love, and security.  It was my soft place to land.

Even after mom passed away eight years ago, dad remained living in their house, so it continued to serve as a central gathering place for our family.  For years I dreaded the day when dad would no longer be able to live there and my brothers and I would be faced with dissolving his estate.  Though I knew it was inevitable, the thought overwhelmed me—not only because of the magnitude of the task, but because it would mean losing my home base.

This past fall that time sadly arrived for our family.  After our dad’s health turned, we were faced with disassembling his home filled with a lifetime of memories. Continue reading

Dying Peacefully

Apparently David Bowie did it.  The New York Times reported on January 11, 2016 that the rock icon “died peacefully.”

In fact, I’ve noticed that the phrase “died peacefully” crop ups up frequently in eulogies and obituaries.  “John Doe died peacefully, surrounded by his family.”  So perhaps it shouldn’t have taken me so off-guard when someone leaned in and probed, “Did your dad die peacefully?” 

I stood there dumbstruck, unsure how to answer.   I had just come through a grueling nine days of bedside vigils.  I wasn’t sure what the intent of the question was – did he want to know whether my dad looked serene at the actual moment of death?  Was he grasping to find out if my father’s dying process was comfortable and “easy?”  Was he somehow trying to ease the sting of his own grief by receiving an affirmative answer?

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My First Christmas Without Presents

thJ5VQ8FZ0I was that kid who got so excited about presents that I spent night after night camped out by our Christmas tree each year. Captivated by the mounds of tantalizing packages, I repeatedly rattled, squeezed and even sniffed the gifts, trying to guess what treasures lay within. The wait seemed almost unbearable as I counted the days until Christmas.

While my passion for presents has mellowed somewhat as an adult, the “Christmas countdown” has continued to tick loudly in my head each year, reminding me of all the things I need to do before the big day. In recent years my list has included writing and sending a Christmas letter, decorating my house, buying presents for family, friends and co-workers, and hosting a Christmas brunch and gift exchange for my brother, his girlfriend, and my dad.

But this year there are no decorations at my house, other than a couple of spindly thWGJ9R4T4poinsettias that are quickly shedding their leaves. I didn’t write my annual letter, search for gifts on Amazon.com, or plan a scrumptious Christmas brunch.

My 2015 holiday season has been radically different – more accurately, my entire world is still reeling from a seismic shift. You see, my precious father went to heaven two days before Thanksgiving. Instead of cooking a turkey, I spent the holiday writing my dad’s obituary. In the days following, I devoted hours to writing a tribute to my dad, planning a memorial service, and putting together a slide show commemorating his life.   This year sympathy cards have far outnumbered the holiday cards I have received, and remnants of funeral flowers adorn my home instead of a pre-lit tree. Continue reading

15 Things I Learned From My Dad

Janie & Dad -whip cream 1961

I originally wrote this post in 2015, the year my dad turned 93. Little did I know at that time it would be my dad’s last birthday. As the years pass without him, the life-lessons and principles he taught me are as relevant as ever. Here are fifteen things I learned from my dad.

1. Commit your heart to Jesus. My dad’s faith began forming when he was a young farm boy searching for a lost cow. As he went from field to field looking for the wayward beast, he eventually became disoriented and panicked. In that moment, dad asked God to help him, and he instantaneously remembered that he could tell the direction home by looking at the sun. The seeds of faith sown that day on the prairie came to fruition at age 15 when a traveling evangelist came to town. When the altar call came, dad felt a burning in his heart to respond. “I practically ran to the front,” dad recalled. He says he knew that it was time to “get off the fence” and make a commitment to Christ. My father called it the most important decision he ever made—and one he never regretted to his final breath.

DAd - army

Baby-faced dad in WWII

2. Worrying is worthless. One of the hallmarks of my dad’s faith was how it dissolved fear. As a soldier in WWII, his fellow Army buddies asked him why he didn’t share their fear of dying on the battlefield. He responded, “My life is in God’s hands, and I know that if I die, I will go to heaven.” My dad consistently turned to prayer during trying times, leaving the matters in God’s hands. He was famous for saying, “we’ll take it one day at a time,” a philosophy that focused on the present rather than fearing the future. As the frailties and challenges of old age crept in, dad often said, “I’ll sleep well tonight; I don’t have anything to worry about. What good would it do, anyway?”

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