My father lay in a hospital bed in my parent's front room, his body an immobile lump under the sheet. His eyes stared unseeing through a gray film. His skin was yellow, his breathing shallow. I held his warm hand, tenderly stroking the fingers and face, kissing him. He was vulnerable and open, like a child.
His attention seemed focused on an inner struggle, on breaking the last threads that tied him to his body - one he had clearly outgrown. He was struggling toward death, just as our children had once struggled to be born. I sat by Dad's side, stroking his forehead, swabbing his mouth with water, talking to him. I felt like a midwife, supporting him through this passage.
I reflected back on how my husband had played this role for me during labor of our children- holding my hand, stroking my forehead, and talking to me as I moved through each contraction. After hours of laboring I felt I had reached my limit; I was exhausted, and the pain was excruciating. Responding to my husband’s encouragement, I reached deep down into myself for the strength and courage to go on. And then I began pushing, past my limitations, past old concepts of who I was. Both a baby and a mother were born. Both of us had let go of the limited space of an old world, had struggled through a long, dark passage and finally emerged.
My father struggled through that long passage. He labored to free himself of bodily limitations and emerge into pure spirit. The nurse cleaned and prepared each of our children in a kind and loving manner to present to my husband and I; in return I assisted preparing our Dad for his final resting place with his Heavenly Father It was my last earthly gift of respect and love. Birth and death are so closely linked, though at opposite ends of life’s spectrum. These events change us; we will never be the same.
It is difficult to describe the loss of our Dad. I have lost the parent I looked to for advice on various things. The parent who had the strongest hands I'll ever know. Just as I became a new person when our children were born I am having to get used to this new person I have become now that our Dad is gone. I have described our family as: Mom is the heart but Dad was the steel structure that held it together. Then I realized...they BOTH built that house on the foundation of Christ. It is a house that will stand FOREVER! So even in mourning I can draw on that fact and that ONE day...I will see my Daddy again!
