I Miss Him After All These Years

Last Wednesday was the anniversary of the day my dad died.

It's been 24 years and it seems like only yesterday.

I still find myself when certain things happen, thinking

"I need to call dad and tell him about this."

24 years is a long time. A lot has happened to me and my family. We have changed.

My oldest son was 10 years old when dad died.

My youngest was 8.

They remember him but not with great clarity.

My oldest is not 35 and youngest 32. Both married with families and jobs and future concerns, balancing life and chasing God.

My oldest son has a tendency to stand exactly like my dad did,

and he isn't even aware that he does it.

My dad didn't come to be saved until shortly before his death.

For that I am grateful.
Cancer robbed his brain and the ability to think straight.Near the end, my dad was no longer himself.

I remember getting the call at work on Tuesday that I had better

get to the nursing home where dad was.

Time was short and the doctor didn't expect him to make it through the night.

It's hard for a son to walk in and see what's left of his father.

By that, I mean a man who was tall and strong and had a voice

that was brusk and husky. Now here he lay a mere shadow of

the man he use to be.

Wires and tubes and equipment all around him.
The look in his eyes was of bewilderment as if to say

"Where am I? What's happened to me?"

Dad drifted in and out of sleep that afternoon and around 5 p.m. seemed

to make a swift turn around.

He woke up hungry ready to eat supper.

I stayed with him as the rest of the family left.

As dad ate supper we talked. I don't remember much about the conversation other

than he seemed in really good spirits.

He pushed his tray away and announced that he was finished with supper

and that he wanted to sleep some more.

I sat next to him praying over him asking for God's mercy to

be extended to Huley Benton Bynum.

Around 9 p.m. dad woke up.

Looking around the room, he turned to me and asked, "who are all these people?"

"What people?" I replied as there was no one in the room except for dad and me.

"They are everywhere! Look how bright their clothes are!"

I believe that at the point, the veil between this reality and the reality of heaven

was parted and my dad saw what lay beyond.

He continued for a few more minutes talking about all the people and what

they looked like.
Conversation seemed to be going on but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

Eventually he lay his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes drifting into sleep.

I stood over his bed and looked into the face of a man I had seen a gajillion times.
That night it was like I was seeing him for the first time.

He looked so peaceful.

He had lived a hard life.

Times were hard as he grew up.

He worked and his hands were hard and calloused to show the years of hard labor he had spent.

His wife, my mother, had departed this world four years earlier and somehow

I don't think he ever recovered from her death.

My mom and he had enjoyed the last few years of her life, going places and

meeting friends for meals and good times.

Without her, he seemed to be incomplete.

Now it was his turn.

Around 4 a.m. the nurse came by and said, "Don't you live nearby?" I replied, "yes."

She said, "why don't you run home and shower, change clothes and come back."
I didn't really want to but I was tired.

She said that she would sit with dad while I was gone.

I left.

As I walked in the front door of my home, the phone rang.

It was the nurse.

Dad had died shortly after I left.

She was very apologetic.

I assured her it was o.k., but deep inside I wished I had been there

with him.

Even to this day, the thought of my dad dieing alone is painful.

On the anniversary of his death, I remember all the good things about him.

How he loved his family.

His laugh.

His love for dogs.

At the end...

How he came to Jesus, old in years but innocent like a child.

I look forward to the day when family will

be reunited.

After all....

Family is all we have.

Merry Christmas!

mb