Peace and Comfort

Last night, my dad went to be with the Lord.

Before this moment, I had thought that I could only write those words with great despair.  But there is no despair.  The fear and the dread are gone.  Now there is sadness, there is relief, there is peace, there is comfort.

Sadness
The sadness is easy to understand.  My dad is gone.  There are so many times I will miss him, so many things that will remind me of him. Sadness makes sense.

Relief
The relief you will understand if you have ever had to witness someone you love truly suffer.  He fought long and hard.  He tried every possible treatment until there were no more to try.  At that point, as his pain continued to grow, the only relief was to let go of this body that he could not save.  So, there is relief that my dad is no longer suffering.

Peace
Then there is peace.  I did not expect to feel this way on the day after I said goodbye to my dad.    
And there is so much to this peace that I will linger here for a while.

The first thing that brings peace is the knowing that my dad is right now with Jesus.  He was sad to leave his family, but his faith never wavered.   Lindsay had a beautiful moment with him on his last night in the hospital, before he returned home to hospice care.  She said he looked sad, and she asked him if he felt sad.  He said he did.  She said, "I'm sad too.  But your body is broken.  You are going from the land of the dying to the land of the living."  Dad replied, "Yes, the land of the living.  I'm going first.  I'll wait for you.  I love you."  And then he kept repeating those words, "I'm going first.  I'll wait for you.  I love you." until he fell asleep.

I also have peace because Dad left this earth so peacefully and so beautifully.  I have been so blessed with wise, experienced counsel in these past few days.  A friend who has quickly grown dear to me because of her compassionate wisdom in the area of hospice, and the hospice nurse who stayed up with me and Dad on Thursday night, both gave me similar advice.  Between the two of them, I was fairly certain his time was short, as the progression they described was happening so quickly.  One of the things they both said was that his loved ones needed to give him permission to let go.  He needed us to tell him it was okay so that he could stop fighting and go in peace.

This is astoundingly hard to do, the letting go.  We had been forced to let go by degrees as his illness progressed.  And each time we had to let go of more of him, we grieved.  But this was the final letting go.  The "I-love-you-and-am-so-thankful-for-the-beautiful-time-we-had-together" letting go.  The "I-have-faith-that-we-will-be-together-agian" letting go.  The "we-will-be-sad-but-we-will-be-okay-because-God-will-take-care-of-us-and-we-will-take-care-of-each-other" letting go.  The "you-have-fought-so-hard-and-we-don't-want-you-to-suffer-any-more" letting go.  The "it's-time-to-let-go-and-see-the-Father" letting go.

We all knew this kind of letting go was coming and the grief that comes with that knowledge is so raw. You just don't want to go there and everything in your soul cries out, "This is not right!  I don't want to do this!" But then God gives you strength for a moment and in that moment you say the words you know you need to say to the one who needs to hear them.  Then you walk out of the room and weep where he can't hear you.

The last one to do this was Mom.  It was so hard for her but she spoke beautiful truths to him, assured him that she would be okay, and told him it was okay to stop fighting.  At that point, he couldn't open his eyes but a tear collected there, so I know he heard her.  He couldn't reach out his hand to her, but he felt her hand on his, and my hand and Lindsay's hand on his other.  And with other family also gathered around, we prayed for him to feel peace as he expressed the final act of faith in releasing his spirit to Jesus.

Two hours later, as the household was crawling into bed that night, he did let go.  Lindsay and I and Andy and Adel were there.  His labored breathing stopped and there was silence.  His body was completely at peace, there was no pain or anxiety on his brow, he just peacefully let go.  As he did, we whispered love and prayers over him.  It was beautiful and peaceful.

To know he left the earth in this kind of peace gives me great peace too.  He didn't want to go, but he trusted God to lead him even in this.  And now, I truly do have peace that God will also lead us through each moment, each day, each family gathering where we miss Dad so much.  It hurts, but I have peace.

Comfort
The last thing I want to remember about all this is how God comforted me during this time.  There were too many "coincidences" to be coincidences.

On the night before Dad went to the hospital, when I was in emotional agony over his pain, I had several friends contact me and tell me that they just had a feeling they needed to pray for me and for my family.  I believe it was those urgent prayers that got Dad through the night without another painful episode.

Yesterday, another old friend from college wrote me that she got a Google+ message that she might want to check out my new blog, which was Brad's Battle Blog.  I had been thinking about reaching out to her and just hadn't gotten around to it, but God arranged for it to be done for me.  Her prayers were added to others that were lifting me up when I could not stand alone.

On the night before dad passed away, the hospice nurse told me I needed to go look outside.  The mood was full and crystal clear and there was a ring around it.  It was very beautiful and comforting.

This is my picture, as you can see, I couldn't capture it with my ipad.

Here's one I found online.  It looked just like this.

Then there's the timing of the government shutdown.  As a NASA contractor, Adel has been forced to take paid vacation for the past two and a half weeks.  They just happened to be the two and a half weeks of my life when I needed him most.  I'm not claiming that God shut down the government just for me, but we know that all things work together for good to those who are called according to His purpose.  And, oh how good it was to have my best friend with me on this one.

There is also the amazing timing with my work at our church.  Every week it is my job to make sure things are ready for the coming Sunday.  This week, the week when I most need to be with family, my church is not having children's services.  I have nothing pressing that I must do before Sunday.  What a comfort that is.

My Aunt Cindy has arranged a temporary work-transfer from her home to Houston, so she can be with my mom.  On her first day of work here, she told her new boss about what our family was going through.  Her boss said he would pray for her.  It turns out that her boss is the same person who leads Andy and Lindsay's small group.  He found out he was praying twice for the same family.

There's a little thing, but still worth mentioning.   Several months ago I wrote up some catchphrases for the fall curriculum at church.  As I was sitting in the room with Dad yesterday, struggling with the situation, I read the email of the plan for the week.  This week's catchphrase, written several months prior was, "Jesus Is Our Hope."  And it was sent to me in an email on the day my father passed away, the only answer to the most painful experience of my life.

Jesus is our hope.