On Sunday, after I preached three services at Cherry Hills, Lisa and I met with a premarital couple for almost an hour and a half, talking through some key issues in their relationship. It was a great time of ministry, but as soon as we got done, Lisa told me my sister had tried calling me four times.
My dad is dying, and my sister thought it might be that afternoon. Dad had what we believe to be a minor stroke, and my dad wanted to say goodbye. I immediately called back, and when Dad got on the line, that’s exactly what he said: “Goodbye!” It was just like him. He’s ready to be with his Savior. It’s been a difficult few years, and he’s been on home hospice care for a couple of months. Lisa and I were there in December when the hospice nurse said he had to put away his walker and use only the wheelchair. That was a hard blow for my dad. And now it’s difficult at times for him to even get in and out of the wheelchair. He’s ready to fly in heaven.
He’s 95, and he rallied a bit on Sunday and Monday, actually ate a little applesauce, but I’m flying out to Seattle (he lives with my sister in Tacoma) to see him today (Tuesday, as I write this). I have tickets to fly out there next week, but we’re thinking he might not have that long (but who knows?). And my sister could use some help and my mom some company. Imagine spending seventy years with someone, every day and night, and knowing you’re about to be alone. My sister is a saint—my mom won’t really be alone—but it’s, of course, not the same. My dad never traveled without my mom. Apart from a couple of hospital stays the last few years, she’s been with him every day and every night.
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