I watched my dad take his last breath; he died October 25, at 8:46 p.m.
Dad died like he lived, in the presence of God, surrounded by his family. God and family were foremost in his life. We gathered around him, prayed, and told him what a wonderful man he had been to us, his family. He even waited for my nephew, Brian, and his wife, Mandy, to arrive to tell Dad “bye” before he left us. That’s just like Dad: always the gentleman, ever wanting to accommodate others.
He died like he lived.
What I learned from Dad in the living years wasn’t from long admonitions; I picked up lessons in pieces, as I watched how he lived: an early riser, diligent worker, always there for his family, a servant of Christ and the church.
But sometimes Dad could say a lot in a few words. I recall the summer when I was home from college. Heartbroken because my girlfriend had broken up with me (the same girl who would, 27 years later, become my wife), I asked him what I should do.
“If you really love her,” he advised, “don’t give up. Keep trying.”
When it was clear that wouldn’t work, I went to him again and asked him what he thought. Dad was cleaning out his fishing boat. He kept rubbing the side of the boat with a wet rag and without stopping to look at me, simply said: “Well, I think it’s going to be a long, hot summer.”
And he was right.
With that simple statement, Dad taught me to keep moving on, gracefully, like a gentleman should, even when it’s painful to do so, even when it takes time to get through it, when it’s like enduring a long, hot, Oklahoma summer.
Dad was one who knew how to keep going. After practicing dentistry for 39 years, he invited a younger dentist, Dr. Mark Goodman, to join Dad’s dental practice, with the idea that Dad would retire in two years and turn the practice over to Dr. Goodman. But Dad loved his work so much he kept on for 20 more years, although some of that was not full time, and he kept his agreement with Dr. Goodman.
Dr. Goodman spoke at Dad’s funeral. Recalling how Dad was always learning, Dr. Goodman told how Dad continued going to dental conventions and seminars, incorporating the latest techniques into his practice, even when Dad was in his 80s.
But Dad knew when it was time to retire and go on to something else.
And he faced death like that.
He fought it to the end. But when it was time to go, he exited quickly and peacefully, as if not to get in anyone’s way, almost like he didn’t want us to have to rearrange our schedules for him.
When I was growing up, Dad would wake me each morning. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he approached my bedroom door. There he would pause, look in, and say, “David, time to get up, time to get going.”
He used that phrase, “time to get going,” whenever he was finished with something and ready to move on.
I wouldn’t presume to know what went on in the spiritual realm as Dad was dying, but I can imagine, knowing how Dad lived, that he was tired of not doing what he wanted, not being able to move on, worn down by the “long, hot summer” that life can become.
God, knowing our inmost being, must have sensed that in Dad. And God must have heard Dad’s heart announcing, “It’s time to get going.”
And as soon as those words were spoken, God said, “Welcome home.”