My Dad died.I got the privilege of spending his last day with him, my mom, and my precious siblings. I knew he was inching closer to heaven with every labored breath because his color was that weird color that death brings. He wasn’t awake or alert, but I sensed that he knew we were there. We gathered around him and sang songs both sacred and debased. Songs rooted deep in faith and songs about illegal moonshining; somehow, they are all the same in the house that I grew up in. Now that my father is passed from this life, here are some glimpses of him that help me.
Life is Short
My Dad lived to be 90 years old. But when I scan the decades in my mind or I look at pictures of his younger self, I’m aware that lines of life are never long when viewed from end to end. It reminds me to live today as if it were a 5-star meal. As he used to quote coach John Wooden and say, “Make today your masterpiece.”Do not sweep your mortality under the rug and ignore its important message. Eventually, for all of us, one day in the future will be our last. Pull upon that truth and reckon upon its sharp edge. Wake each day with the words of the Ghost of Christmas present branded upon your soul, “Mortal, We Spirits of Christmas do not live only one day of our year. We live the whole three-hundred and sixty-five. So it is true of the Child born in Bethlehem.” (Dickens, A Christmas Carol)Mankind and the love of God are our business. Do not waste the minutes of your life.
Steadfast Love
One day and then the next. That was how my dad did it. There were no wild fluctuations. He was predictable in some of the most important ways. His superpower was that he was there. Consequently, with this as my backdrop, I never struggled to know that God is steadfast. Seasons change. Some moments in life are hard but my dad would never cut and run. He would stay through thick and thin. He stayed married to my mom for 69 years. In doing so, he helped me to know that I can similarly stay steadfast for those who depend upon me.
Hard Work
I never once heard my dad complain about work. He got up every day and put his hand to the plow. He demonstrated the virtue of patient industry. Work on something important every day and in the due course of time something you are proud of will exist. This is how he built so many great basketball teams.As a kid, one of my favorite things was to go with my dad to his basketball practices over the holidays. I loved the smell of the gym and the sound of a basketball on a hard wood floor. He would have his team stand along the baseline and I marveled at the sound of his coaching speeches. I watched as he put the pieces together. Preparing to win. He was a great coach. Not everybody thought so, but I did. His record speaks for itself. Ask the people in Surry and Yadkin counties in North Carolina – They remember him. A good coach is rare, and not easily forgotten.
Enjoy Earth
Some lives bring the goodness of heaven to earth and change it for the better, others reveal the contours of heaven with how they revel in the goodness of earth. My Dad was more of the second type. He loved to be outside in the garden. He loved to play sports and fish. He loved to pick up the guitar and puzzle his way through the same songs over and over. In doing these things and combining them with diligent, steadfast love, he showed me that my pursuit of God should have open eyes for the powerful combination of earth and heaven.Dad died about 9:15 at night. By lunch time the next day two of his fellow coaches and one of his former players knocked at our door. I was moved by the honor of their presence. They didn’t do anything except come inside and we all stood in a circle and told stories about my dad. Fishing stories, coaching stories, winning and losing stories and my heart was lightened. In their presence I could see that my dad lived a life that he enjoyed.
Faith and Finishing
Dad and Mom attended one church their whole life. He bowed his head and prayed out loud when we sat down to eat as a family. He gave his money to see the church flourish. When the end came, that church community descended upon mom’s house like a love flood. Food on top of food, love reaching out without restraint, everybody knows everybody and it’s beautiful.In the end, he breathed his last breath in the front room of the house that he bought new and paid for. With his dog laying in his bed and his bride of 69 years close at hand, his body wore out and he went to heaven. Our family was together. We sang the songs that he taught us. He hung in there long enough to hear the carolers from the church when they came by, then took one last big breath and sprinted into heaven. He will bow to Jesus (as will each of us). Then he will quickly be trying out his new legs in whatever sport is fashionable in that kinder place.
