dad

Me and my dad, 1979

The process of dying

We all know we'll die
one day.
It could be quick, or
it could be the end of
the respite of
a process that seemed sometimes to take too long.
In birth
there is an accelerating
intensity of pain
until one is released
from the womb
and life begins.
Perhaps in death
for some
the accelerating
intensity
of brokenness
weakness
sickness
pain
is preparation
for the release of pain
into new life.

I'm thinking about my dad tonight. The past week or so going to dialysis has made him really sick. He chose not to go this morning. We're hoping he can just decrease the amount of time he spends at dialysis each session and that that'll help him not get so sick but still keep him alive. I hope that works out. I know I will miss my dad when he is gone. I already miss my real dad, the one who used to have the energy to laugh, the one who used to let me climb up on his back after family prayer and who would have races with me.

The process of death is hard to deal with. There's a lot it includes that I would rather not deal with, a lot that is gross, that is socially awkward, that is difficult for a child to see in a middle-aged parent. I wish I were more willing to set that aside and serve. I thoroughly admire my mom and youngest sister and brother, who have borne this part of the process so amazingly well.

I'm glad my dad is still with us. I hope he stays to meet more grandchildren and be part of yet more life events. I owe a lot to him and wish the recent people in my life (Chad and Jozie in particular) knew my real dad, but I'm thankful for the memories and for all of the things he has taught me. My dad was the first one to teach me how to sing in harmony. He taught me to love the smell of dirt (he owned a landscaping business--along with that he likely silently taught me that I could own my own successful business). He taught me to like the scriptures, including Isaiah, and to love figuring out what passages mean when it isn't obvious. He taught me to enjoy hiking, even when we got lost. He used to tell me about our famous and/or pioneer ancestors, and awakened in me a curiosity for genealogy. A lot of who I am is tied to my dad and who he is. There are things he lacks, things he couldn't teach me, but in spite of the reality of his flaws, he is and seems to always have been most of all a person who knows God and who wants so much to be good. I think that's gone a long way in influencing me and all of my brothers and sisters. I pray that he'll have the faith (in himself as well as in Christ) and the strength of character to endure well his last mortal tests.