A few weeks ago, I received a phone call. The one I had thought about for so many years. I had always wondered how I would react when I got it. And I found out.
My father was just a month or two shy of his ninetieth birthday when he came down with COVID, but blessedly, he’d rebounded from it. Then a few weeks later, he began to feel weaker by the day. He had an appointment to see his doctor that day, so he hadn’t gone to urgent care; but as he arrived at his doctor’s office, it was obvious he needed help. An ambulance was called and he was rushed to the hospital. Minutes later, he felt better as they administered oxygen to him. Numerous chest X-rays and a CT scan followed, but while they waited for blood test results, his blood pressure dropped suddenly, he turned his head to the side, and his great big heart stopped beating.
Dad never wanted to be kept alive by extraordinary means. He had battled cancer for six-and-a-half years, and his body was breaking down in many different ways. But he had lived a beautiful life of service to God and man, had raised a beautiful family, and had just finished writing his fourth book since retirement. His work was finally done.
When I saw my mom on the Facetime call, I knew Dad was gone. He had fallen asleep in Jesus. I have always wondered how I would handle the death of my parents. As a sober alcoholic, my greatest wish had always been to be able to handle it all with calmness, dignity, and concern for my family. Living one day at a time, I’d followed the principles that got and kept me sober for the past 34 years, and God didn’t let me down.
My first thoughts were of my mother. “Oh Mom, I’m so sorry,” I heard myself say. Then, following the advice I’d heard from someone with far more wisdom than I had at the time, I told her, “I love you so much, and we’ll get through this together.”
The relief that spread across her face said it all. As she wept, I felt powerless, but I also felt the calm power of the Holy Spirit—the Comforter Jesus promised—covering us both like a warm blanket.
In rapid succession, I thought of the Bible verses I’d learned since childhood: “‘Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand’” (Isaiah 46:10). “He will swallow up death forever, and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces …” (Isaiah 25:8), “And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4).
Only God could do all that for my mom. She had loved and cared for her husband throughout their nearly 68 years of marriage. But now he was gone. Oh how my heart ached for her.
Leaning over, she stroked his face as she gazed at him through her tears for the last time. She turned the camera around so I could see my father’s peaceful expression. Yes, he was at peace when he died. And now, he was suffering no more. The thought came to me that the next face he will see will be the face of Jesus—triumphant, returning with thousands upon thousands of angels to take His saints home! And in a “twinkling of an eye” my daddy will have a new body—free from the effects of sin, free from pain, restored to the beautiful man that God created him to be (1 Corinthians 15:52).
The call ended, and a song by Jonathan Ogden that had been playing on my computer started up again. Mid-song. Softly.
Quiet my soul ’cause You’re teaching me how to slow down
Surrender it all, let You take control and slow down
I know You’re not far away from me, You are so close now
I’m waiting in the stillness, I need to hear Your voice now
And You’re telling me, “Quiet
You don’t have to be so frightened
About what tomorrow brings
Just keep taking it slow, I will always be close
And I’m never gonna leave you
Promise I’ll never forsake you
So don’t even worry now
You just gotta let go of tryna be in control
And slow down”
Love is patient, love is kind
And good things sometimes take some time …
For the past few weeks, I’ve been spending a lot of time with my mom and my family. I’m grateful that I can work on the myriad of details that need close attention when someone passes away. Today I am the son my parents always hoped I would be. Today I can help my mother, honor her, and love her with all my heart—and as best as I know how.
I’ve spent a lot of time reading my daddy’s Bible. I see the verses he underlined, the notes he made. And the chapters he marked up the most were the last two—Revelation 21 and 22—describing the New Heaven and the New Earth God will create.
I’ve also been consciously aware that the thought of drinking—or even running from my responsibilities—has never crossed my mind. Yes, God changes us. Even alcoholics like me! He is my source of power, my source of strength, my source of comfort, and my source of sobriety.
A few days ago, I was thinking about the fact that I am now fatherless. But God interrupted that thought!
No, you are not fatherless, He whispered to me in my mind. I am your Father, and I’m never gonna leave you. I promise I will never forsake you. (Genesis 28:15; Deuteronomy 31:6, 8; Joshua 1:5; and Hebrews 13:5).
I am not alone.
