My Dad

Five years ago today, on June 7, 2006, my Dad passed away and was welcomed into heaven by his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  I say this because as Dad took his last breath he lifted his arms heaven ward, which was no small feat for his very weakened body. 

I am writing this post, because for the first time in my life I feel I can do it without only spouting bitterness and anger.  My recollections and experiences are not necessarily those of my siblings...each of us had a different relationship with Dad.

I have very few pictures of me with Dad...none of just the two of us.  This picture is precious to me because it is the only picture I have of Dad holding me.  And that makes me feel special. 

 Dad loved little kids and loved horsing around with them. Teenagers on the other hand were a different story. I think Dad did not know what to make of our growing independence and that, along with all the other teenage "stuff" caused him a lot of stress. I'm sure raising 13 kids didn't help either...oh, the stress of parenting 13 kids!
Of all the kids in Dad's life, Helen was his favorite.  My sister was born with Cerebral Palsy.  For 5 years she was the light of Dad's life.  She could always make him smile!  In Helen's presence, Dad's wrinkles softened and there was always a light in his eyes. 
Shortly before Helen passed away she quit breathing...3 times on separate days.  Each time Mom and my older sisters were able to resuscitate her.  The last time they resuscitated her, Helen cried for hours.  In fact she cried until Dad came home, and only then did she settle.  I believe she caught a glimpse of heaven and was sad that she could not go there just yet.  I imagine she must have known that in heaven she would be able run and jump, and sing and talk!



My Dad did not approve of my attending public High School.  I was the first of my siblings to do so.  As a result my relationship with Dad deteriorated and was never what I wished for it to be.  Dad did not attend my graduation, and yet I do think a part of him was proud of my accomplishments.
Of all the choices I made, Dad liked who I choose for a spouse.  Martin and Dad got along well and had many good conversations.  Unfortunately, I never had a really good, one on one chat with my Dad and it still makes me sad. 
I do not have a wedding picture of us posing with Mom and Dad.  Dad was opposed to me getting married in a white gown...and it had NOTHING to do with my sexual purity.  Rather, it was one of Dad's traditional Mennonite beliefs that all brides should wear a darker colored, knee length dress.
After Alex was born Dad began to show that he was proud of me.  He never put it into words, but I could see it in his eyes.  Perhaps it was because after 8 years of marriage he realized that even though I was "educated"or "ouwt yeliet", I chose to become a mother and that pleased him.

This is the last picture I took of Dad.  It was taken April 30, 2006, at Ben & Alison's wedding shower.  At the time we did not know that cancer was invading Dad's body, and that 5 1/2 weeks later we would lose him.
I had just told the story of how, in elementary school, my cousin Julie was bragging about her dad being  VERY tall, and me, not to be out done, bragged that MY Dad was also VERY tall...NOT true!  LOL!!  As you can see Uncle Jim is and was MUCH taller than Dad! :)

Two weeks before Dad passed away, Mom and Dad visited us.  Dad had a little difficulty walking up the flight of stairs...but we didn't think much of it.  Dad was 69, had worked hard all his life and had been "ill" lately.  I say "ill" because Dad often had aches and pains and as usual we assumed this was nothing more than the usual aches and pains.  The next day Dad had a doctors appointment and was told he had liver cancer.  Dad's health deteriorated rapidly.  A week later he was in a hospital bed (at home), completely reliant on others for all his needs.  I think this was a hard pill for Dad to swallow.  He had always been very proud of his independence.  Dad preferred to be at the giving end, rather than having others do something for him.  It seemed that he simply gave up. 
The night before Dad passed away, Martin and I were finally able to spend some alone time with Dad.  Dad could not speak...only moan.  He repeatedly tried to talk, becoming agitated each time.  Each time I took Dad's hand and reassured him that everything was OK.  I knew he was trying to apologize for all the hurts and I knew he would not be able to rest unless he knew I had forgiven him.  I had. 
After Dad died I grieved...not in the way we usually grieve, but rather, I grieved the "could have been, should have been and never will be" of my relationship with Dad.  I have been angry at Dad,  have resented him and even hated him.  However, for the first time in my life, as crazy as it may sound, I know without a doubt, that "all things work together for good to those that love God!"  And that includes my dysfunctional relationship with Dad.  It is because of my lack of being connected and feeling loved that I have such a deep compassion for orphans.  It makes me a better, more thoughtful mother!  And for that I thank God!