This has been a year of stress and turmoil for our family. We are looking to a healthy year in 2012, no pain, no surgeries, no sorrow.
We've experienced the passing of an incredible man, and loving, fun uncle to my son; my father-in-law suffering a heart attack and subsequent five artery by pass and just this week, my Dad underwent a surgery on his spinal column in his neck to repair a severely decompressed disc that has lead to numbness and pain in his arm.
I stood in Pre-Op with my family, my Dad on gurney waiting to go in to surgery. I could barely keep my emotions under control. I couldn't figure out why I was so upset; I knew the surgery would be fine, I knew my Dad was going to be so much better after he got out; I knew God was watching over him, the surgeon, the hospital, my family and would keep us all safe. I knew all this, but for a lack of better terms, I was freaking out on the inside!
As we prayed, my voice cracked and tears started flowing. I didn't want my Dad to see or hear my distress, especially since I knew all was well. Why was I so upset?
Later in the day it came to me.
My Dad, my Hero; he has ALWAYS been there for me. I can't think of one moment in my life that I wouldn't be able to call on him. Not that I always did, but the comfort of knowing that I could, was and is a comfort that I rest upon.
He doesn't offer opinions unless I ask and sometimes not even then. He listens, he adamantly listens; when I'm crazy with emotions and words, he listens. He doesn't sigh or roll his eyes or interject, he opens his mind and his wisdom to me; allowing me to take what I want and leave what I don't.
He takes his job as Dad very seriously, he always has. I believe it's a job he loves more than any other job he's had; he doesn't get to retire from it; I don't think he'd want to; he's just so good at it. He's my Dad and I'll never have another one; I don't need another one, mine is perfect.
So as I stood at his bed side waiting for him to be wheeled away, it was the first time he was vulnerable to me. The first time, I was supposed to be the stronger one, the one to smile and hold his hand and tell him "everything is going to be fine". To not offer advice or deliver opinions, but to be strong for him.
I'm not sure I did a good job. God have me the ability to make people laugh, so I played to that grace. I'm not good at silence, it's deafening to me, although I'm sure a little silence for him would have been welcome.
My Dad is doing wonderfully, just as I knew he would be; he's already started doing his normal routine and is probably going to "over-do" it, that's his nature; that's who he is and I wouldn't change him for anything in the world.
If you still have the honor of having your Dad around, I encourage you to call him; I'm sure he'd love to hear from you. For those that have lost their Dad, my deepest sorrow for you and your loss.
I have so many incredible memories with my Dad, I hope you do as well. Remember those moments and smile a little bigger today.
We've experienced the passing of an incredible man, and loving, fun uncle to my son; my father-in-law suffering a heart attack and subsequent five artery by pass and just this week, my Dad underwent a surgery on his spinal column in his neck to repair a severely decompressed disc that has lead to numbness and pain in his arm.
I stood in Pre-Op with my family, my Dad on gurney waiting to go in to surgery. I could barely keep my emotions under control. I couldn't figure out why I was so upset; I knew the surgery would be fine, I knew my Dad was going to be so much better after he got out; I knew God was watching over him, the surgeon, the hospital, my family and would keep us all safe. I knew all this, but for a lack of better terms, I was freaking out on the inside!
As we prayed, my voice cracked and tears started flowing. I didn't want my Dad to see or hear my distress, especially since I knew all was well. Why was I so upset?
Later in the day it came to me.
My Dad, my Hero; he has ALWAYS been there for me. I can't think of one moment in my life that I wouldn't be able to call on him. Not that I always did, but the comfort of knowing that I could, was and is a comfort that I rest upon.
He doesn't offer opinions unless I ask and sometimes not even then. He listens, he adamantly listens; when I'm crazy with emotions and words, he listens. He doesn't sigh or roll his eyes or interject, he opens his mind and his wisdom to me; allowing me to take what I want and leave what I don't.
He takes his job as Dad very seriously, he always has. I believe it's a job he loves more than any other job he's had; he doesn't get to retire from it; I don't think he'd want to; he's just so good at it. He's my Dad and I'll never have another one; I don't need another one, mine is perfect.
So as I stood at his bed side waiting for him to be wheeled away, it was the first time he was vulnerable to me. The first time, I was supposed to be the stronger one, the one to smile and hold his hand and tell him "everything is going to be fine". To not offer advice or deliver opinions, but to be strong for him.
I'm not sure I did a good job. God have me the ability to make people laugh, so I played to that grace. I'm not good at silence, it's deafening to me, although I'm sure a little silence for him would have been welcome.
My Dad is doing wonderfully, just as I knew he would be; he's already started doing his normal routine and is probably going to "over-do" it, that's his nature; that's who he is and I wouldn't change him for anything in the world.
If you still have the honor of having your Dad around, I encourage you to call him; I'm sure he'd love to hear from you. For those that have lost their Dad, my deepest sorrow for you and your loss.
I have so many incredible memories with my Dad, I hope you do as well. Remember those moments and smile a little bigger today.
