My Journal #2

What a day that will be when my Jesus I shall see....

Monday Dad didn't feel like getting out of bed. I went over to the house after work and sat with him. He wanted to tell me that he was seeing some changes in my sister. He was pleased. We talked for a while then he had a fishing buddy and the new pastor of the Dallas, Or church stopped by. They must have talked for an hour or so. Sue got him ready for bed, I said good by and went home.

Tuesday, I got to work yesterday and didn't hear much until around noon from my sister who is the caregiver for my father. I then got a call from her telling me he'd bee up and in his chair waiting for visitors. A couple hours later she said he was back in bed, restless. By three o'clock I got a text,  the Dr. and Hospice nurse was there and he was hours from dying. WHAT??!! He was fine last night.  I got another call, a few minutes later, to stop and pick up my brother-in-law. I rushed home, we grabbed some hymnals I had and was on our way to the folk's house. Another call, "Where are you? It won't be long!!"

How could he go from being ready to talk to visitors to leaving this world? He was. Brad and I got there around 5:25 or so and joined the rest of the family in his room.

His eyes were partially closed and he looked at me when I touched him and said I was there. He looked up an my brother in law standing to my left but I think he was looking for my husband Paul who had to go out of town.

We settled in and sang a songs. About 6:10 my younger sister sitting next to him said, "Dad we're all here,(she named us all) you can go now."
He raised his hand a little and again as we sang more songs. At 6:21 my sister said he was gone.  So peaceful. Just like always, when he wanted to go home, he got up, said good bye and hurried mom out to the car. He was anxious to get back to the beach house. Here he was anxious to meet his Savior.

I sit here, and I feel the emotion. Not the crying for him or me, but that feeling the Spirit gives you when you've just witnessed a beautiful event.  Now as we plan the funeral I see the fun things he loved, his humor in every situation.

We are planning to wear a red Gerbera in his honor. One because it was a favorite flower and two because he had cancer. I know this may seem odd, but when I watched the movie Calandar Girls and they wore a yellow flower in honor of the one woman's husband who died of cancer, I loved the look and the sentiment. I've ordered a single flower to be worn by each member of the family and the pall bearers. The Pall bearers are two of the Sons-in-law (the third won't be able to be there) the two oldest grandsons and the two remaining Buss nephews.

We have a wonderful family. One of my cousin's on my mother's side has indicated she wants to come for the funeral. I love all the Facebook posts from friend, family, and those who have known my dad and posted their memories. He was well loved for his nonjudgmental way of offering comfort and advice. As a minister and pastor his sermons have touched and remained in the minds of many. That is the mark of a sermon sent from God.

Dad was truly chosen to preach. As a young minister God always prompted him when he was going to be asked to preach. The Pastor would call and my dad said, "I know." The Pastor many times would try to catch him unprepared but waiting to the last minute to tell him. Once they were in service and Dad was sure he was to preach that night but no call or indication from the Pastor. On their way up the back steps to the platform, Bro. Norman said, "Roy, you're on." Dad smiled, held up his Bible and said, "I know."

When the Lord gave him a sermon, someone listening was meant to hear it.  However my dad was not an eloquent speaker, far from it. A retired English teacher in our church was asked to give speaking lessons to all the new ministers. At the end of their sermons, before they went home, she would slip them a note with things they needed to work on. Dad shared the note with us on our way home. That gave me an idea. I must have been around eight or so. I began to sit dead center, second row of the church and I wrote every AH-UM and mispronounced word he spoke. I gave him my list after church on the way home. His comment was, "At least she's listening."

I'm not a speaker, though with preparation I'm not bad. I took Toastmasters class and loved it. I guess I am my father's daughter.
This is enough thought for today as I need to get ready to pick up my sister to go to the funeral home and make arrangements.

Tina Weaver

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