The one funny memories I have of my father in law, was on new years eve 1999. As the clock hit midnight we all ran out on the porch. I grabbed my pots and pans, then out comes my father in law w/ this big giant thing called a “bumba”. He is banging this clanging thing an dancing a half mummers strut and “Indian rain dance”. It was that moment I knew I still had time to get out or just be crazy w/ him! I laughed so hard.
The message that I want to get out today, is that as a healthcare worker in the critical care setting, much too often I see families go through this life draining experience. It is immensely harder when it is your own.
We pray for one more heart beat, one more breath, and just a glimmer of hope for healing. But it is God’s plan, not ours, that is going to be. No matter what medical interventions are done, we have to embrace that the “ultimate” healing is to be home w/ our lord.
When I was leaving the hospital, the Sunday before his passing, he asked me to take him home w/ me. I simply leaned over, kissed him on the check and said that I couldn’t take him home. Then I said, “But I promise you, you will go home.”
I like to say that “Dad, you are finally home”.
