My Dad and My Dream

My father - I never called him that - my Daddy - was diagnosed with Leukemia and it broke my heart - I refused to believe it, it was just not possible that my Dad could die, just not possible.  He did ok the first few years - he would get better and I just knew he was going to get well - I read every scripture on healing that I could find in the Bible - I read other peoples writings on those verses - I gave them all to my Dad in hopes he too would read them and believe them - my Dad was saved - he truly believed in God and that Christ died for him.  He would just look at me kind of sad and say ok he would read them.

My Dad was so very special to me - I simply cannot explain it - mom and I did not get along that well - and Dad was always there - Always!

I went every chance I got to see him and my mom - at first they still lived in their home - it was a two hour drive - so that was not too bad.  I would go and visit all weekend, take mom shopping and help with the bills.  Some days he was good and some he was not.  I still refused to see it.  I even took him to the hospital for his check ups and blood transfusions etc., it was the hardest thing of my life.

As his health got worse and mom could not keep up with everything - they moved in with my sister - that was his last year - she lived about 4 hours away - so that made going a little more difficult - but I would go to work - get everything done that I could and leave and drive to my sisters - I would pray on the way that Dad would still be alive when I got there.  I was very lucky to have very understanding bosses at the time and they let me go whenever I needed too.  My sister was divorced as was my brother - they both lived together - it was good because sometimes it took both of them to take care of Dad.

Dad's last birthday was one of the hardest to get thru - mom was all sad and teary eyed - so I started acting the clown - anything to make him laugh or smile and he did I think just for me.  We were all there my sister and two brothers and all the kids.  You should see some of the pictures of my sister and me clowning around!  But it lightened the mood and made us laugh.

When I would get there each time I would visit - I always went to Dairy Queen and got banana splits and milkshakes - what ever he wanted - he had a hard time swallowing and the ice cream seemed to help.  I cannot visit a Dairy Queen now without remembering Dad.  He really seemed to like that.

I was the only one that would trim his toenails - mom could not do it and my sister was afraid too - Dad said that he knew that when I got there I would take care of it.  I had to be careful that I did not clip his skin and he start bleeding - I never clipped his skin and he never started bleeding and his toenails were trimmed.

The last time that I went to see him - my sister had called and said they were taking him to the hospital - I knew in my heart that was the end - I left and went straight to the hospital - I prayed the whole trip that he would be alive when I got there - I think that was a Wednesday - I got there and I did not leave his side - part of the time he was awake and lucid and other times the pain meds had him knocked out or he was talking out of his head - my sister did not stay - she could not -  they told me later Dad had said that - there were three of them going but only two would be coming home. 

All the family started coming - aunts, uncles, cousins, grandkids, all of us - we were all with him - someone would stay with him while I would take a shower - I went downstairs to watch my great nephew so my niece could visit with him and one of my cousins came after me because Dad wanted me and did not know where I was - I did not leave him again. 

He was running a high temp just before he died and it upset me - I called the nurse and told them he needed something to cool off - they said they would have to call the doctor and seemed hesitant to do it - I fairly yelled at him to call or give me the number and I would call him - I guess he did not want that so shortly they put ice packs under his arms and put something in his IV - I felt better but it did not change for Dad.

I asked one of the doctors how long they thought he had and he said he could not tell for sure, but did not think he would make the weekend.  I was in his room and bent over beside his bed to pick up something off the floor and out of the corner of my eyes I saw wings fluttering over him - then I knew that God was watching over him. 

My husband, son, youngest brother and his wife were all in the room when he breathed his last.  I cried.  I still cry.  I stayed with him as long as I could - I would not let them take him to the hospital morgue - he stayed in his room until the funeral home came for him - then we all cried!

Dad died in August 1998 and was buried September 2.  His 78th birthday would have been September 22.  I stayed with my sister a few days after the funeral to help her get their things straightened out and help her with Mom.  Life has not been the same since that day - they say pain eases as time passes - I don't know that, that is true - I still miss him like it was yesterday. 

I had been praying so long for him to be healed - I just could not pray 'thy will be done' I wanted my Dad to live - to be healed - I believe that God let my Dad live that last year until I could pray 'thy will be done'.  I am glad that he is not in pain any longer and I know where he is, he is happy and well.  I never heard my Dad complain about anything - he seemed to take it in stride.  My sister in law said that we should all make our piece with him before he died - I told  her I didn't need to make piece with him - he knew that I loved him, he knew he was special to me.

A few days after the funeral - I was staying with my sister to help her and to make sure she was alright - she had looked after him every day.  One night while I was there  I had a dream that I still have not figured out. 

      It was dark and I was sitting on a small island and for some reason I was holding an infant in my lap.  On the other side of the island my Dad was squatting/sitting at a camp fire (or that is what it seemed to be).  He looked at me and started to stand up he said "Dianne I want to tell you something - always follow the arrows". Behind him a large arrow started to flame - it looked like the arrows the boy scouts use in the "Order of the Arrow" ceremonies.  Something or someone started to pull the island apart - separating me from my Dad - at the same time someone was trying to take the infant away from me - it touched me on the arm and it was so cold - I started screaming and yelling 'no-no-no' I was holding on to the infant and calling for my Dad.  I woke up frightened and upset and yelling 'no' - I got up and went to my big sister and asked if I could stay with her until morning.  It was not a long dream but it was very real - and since I have been trying to figure out  just what Dad meant.

He has come to me at least once more since then -  at a very stressful time in my life, it calmed me and made me feel peaceful.  I miss him every day - but I know that he is still looking after me like he always did - and I try very hard to live the way he taught us.  This is the first I have ever written about this time in my life - my Dad was a very special man - he was human and had flaws and faults - but to me none of that mattered - he is my Dad.