Dad

My father-in-law died early yesterday morning; peacefully, unobtrusively, much like he lived his life. His wife of 47 years held his hand as he passed on into Heaven. I know he’s in Heaven, because, after I heard the news, I took my coffee into my library, and gazed at the eastern sky. I’ve watched the sun rise all week, and this one had the most brilliant display of color. God spoke to my heart, “He’s home with me now.”

On our wedding day, my father-in-law told me I could call him “Dad.” I continued to call him “Mr. Murphy" for a few months, which morphed into “Ken,” and eventually “Dad.”

Dad was a good man. He lived a life of integrity and honor. He was wise; never making selfish, regretful mistakes that hurt others. He loved his wife completely, treating her as a precious gift throughout their entire marriage. I am forever grateful for that legacy, because that is the kind of love my husband has for me.

He was a hard worker and good provider for his family, never complaining about the long hours of his week. He did what needed to be done. He raised 4 awesome children, educating them in private schools and helping them out with college tuition. He loved God and served faithfully in his church community.

He never understood the parenting culture of today, which he viewed as raising entitled, lazy children who complain if they have to walk to school, and expect a trophy for every sport played. He once told us we ought to take our (then 8-year-old) Rock Star into the Forest Preserve. We should leave him there alone with just his bike, and expect him to find his way home on his own. He believed that act would encourage a courageous, “can-do” spirit within our son. “Dad!” we said in exasperation. “That would be considered Child Neglect. We’d get arrested!”

Dad was an encouraging voice in our lives. He told Super Hubs and me that he was proud of us, admired our values and the way we lived our lives; words I had longed to hear from my own father, who was never able to give me verbal love.

Dad was one of the most well-read, interesting people I’ve ever known. He knew everything about everything, and he was well-traveled. Random facts about birds and trees and architecture flowed from his lips and into our heads. He loved food, and knew the perfect wine to go with each meal. He gave Rock Star a bird feeder, and they’d bird-watch "together," even though Dad lived 400 miles away. He gave Butterfly her first Barbie when she was a baby. Sadly, Little Squirt only knew him as “Grandpa Who Cannot Walk or Talk.” His Alzheimer’s was advanced by the time my youngest was born, and he lived in a nursing home for the last 5 years.

“Why couldn’t God and Jesus let him be with us for longer?” asked Little Squirt yesterday, when I held him on my lap and told him of his grandfather’s passing.
“I think maybe God wanted him to go to Heaven for Christmas,” I said. “And now he won’t suffer anymore. He has a perfect, new body that can walk and talk again.”
“But why did God let him suffer?” he said, wide-eyed.
The Question. The Big Question we all wonder, shaking our fists toward the skies.

Why did God keep Dad living for most of his 60’s, trapped in a declining body with a deteriorating brain? Perhaps because it was for our benefit, that more of Christ would be formed in us. There were lessons we needed to learn. We needed to learn, from watching Dad suffer, how to give selflessly. How to advocate for him to the nursing home staff in an assertive, but loving way. How to grasp each moment of life as a gift, because we don’t know how long we have with each other. And, from watching Mom patiently shave his face, rub lotion on his hands, plump his pillows, and care for his needs, we learned unconditional love. We learned that marriage really is “for better or worse.” And even though the past decade brought a lot of “worse,” Mom relished the time she was able to love on our Dad, as he had done for her throughout their marriage.

“For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what do I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body.” (Phil.1:21-24)

I am grateful we were able to say our “good-byes” at Thanksgiving. And, even though I grieve with my family, my heart is thrilled that Dad will spend this holiday in a place where he will suffer no more. It'll be a bittersweet Christmas.

Love you, Dad! Thanks for everything!