Butter Pecan Ice Cream in the snow...

I’ve anticipated this moment for almost a year, but that does not mean I have the words or clarity to put it on paper.

On Saturday evening, I laid down beside my 8-year old daughter, Avriel, weary after an emotionally sad day.  My mom had reported that my dad was covered in sores, and it was impossible to find a position for him to lay comfortably.  This journey has been horrific on so many levels and why this was “a thing” amongst all the other “things” that made my heart feel like it was squeezed in a vise, I don’t know.  So as I lay there, I prayed a familiar prayer, “Lord, help Grampie to sleep tonight…” followed by words I had never prayed before, “and take him to Heaven to be with you, Jesus, Amen.”

The next day at 1:42pm, I received the frantic call from my mom.  “I think Daddy dead.  He not breathing.”   

She had left the house to go to church fully believing that she would come home to her husband of 50 years in the same state she left him.  Her last words to him, “Ernie, I go to church…I be right back.”  His last words to her, “Ok.”

That same day, his best friend, Andy, sat in church in the same familiar spot he had sat for many years, except for the unusual absence of the man that had stood in front of him for all of those years.  Andy prayed an unfamiliar prayer, “Lord, take Ernie home to be with you.”  He later turned to his wife with assurance and said, “Ernie is leaving today.”

Maybe you’re wondering what I felt or said when I heard my mom’s desperate voice.  I said the most comforting words I could think of… “Oh, mommy…”  The tears didn’t last for long though, because I felt such a sense of relief at the thought of this man who had suffered in ways I did not think were possible…being healed…whole…and free!

As I sit now in his bedroom on his side of the “Craftmatic” bed that probably belongs in a museum, in that I don’t remember it not existing, I am reflecting on this complex man whom I called “Daddy.”

He was not a warm and snuggly daddy, he was a hard-as-a-rock daddy.

He was not an empathetic daddy, he was a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps and don’t whine about it” daddy.

He was not a fun daddy, he was a “there’s too much work to be laying around” daddy.

I believe that this man wanted to be all of these things, but simply didn’t know how or was not able to because of his upbringing, memories of his heroic efforts in Vietnam, and a near death accident that resulted in traumatic brain injury and blindness.

However, we saw glimpses of this hidden desire as he drew closer to Jesus and the end of his life here.

He was a warm and snuggly daddy, as my sister cared for him, and he stopped her before she walked out of his room to tell her, “Angel…I want to say thank you to you and Noreen for taking care of me.”

He was an empathetic daddy when he quickly handed over his credit card over and over to pay for all of our meals this last year.  I’m not sure that either of us had ever seen or handled his credit card in the past.  It was always kept in his overstuffed worn black billfold wallet that we didn’t dare touch in fear of the force field that was surely surrounding it.

He was a fun daddy when on taking him on his last trip to Maine in May, we went to get gas and it started snowing.  Our favorite ice cream shop was on the hill beside the gas station.  It’s a little red building that probably belongs in the Netherlands with a fake windmill attached to it.  It was a favorite childhood treat for 5 year old Noreen and 6 year old Angel.

I asked, “Daddy, you want to go get ice cream in the snow.”  His response, “Why not.”  And we did.  He handed me his precious credit card, and I jumped out of the car, ran to the outdoor window to order and proceeded to jumped up and down in an attempt to keep myself warm while I ordered his favorite and mine too.  Then I ran to the car quickly shutting the door to keep out the blowing snow, and I sat and just delighted in the smile on his face as he licked his all-time favorite butter pecan ice cream in a cone.

So I have ugly-cried a couple times, but mostly I am grateful that he gets to be all of the things he wanted to be...free from traumatic brain injury, blindness, stage 4 colon cancer, pressure ulcers, and a bedridden 120 pound feeble body.