The Man Who Led Me to Christ Died This Morning

My 86 year-old father passed away this morning.

It’s 5:30 in the morning and I’m up after receiving a call from one of my three older brothers.

It was swift for Dad. A few days ago he had a stroke that left him permanently unable to talk or swallow. When asked if he wanted a feeding tube, I heard he indicated “No” via a hand-squeeze.

Without the ability to swallow the doctors said his lungs were filling up with his own mucus and saliva.

My mother died when I was 18, so this now leaves me without any parents.

Weird though, Im not sad or emotional….not yet. More relieved.

I suppose you could say my father was a single dad, at least for a few months… until I left home for college.

I learned a lot about what not to do from how Dad handled being a widower. He married too soon after Mom’s death (less than a year later). Then he moved away from all of us to an obscure place that held no connection to us as a family. When Mom died there was nobody to keep our family rooted together. My brothers and I and Dad all drifted apart. Dad rarely asked questions about my job, my wife or my children. He was happy to see us, but most visits were miserably boring and un-relational. We often sat in silence as I tried to figure out how to get him talking. My four children never got to know him on an intimate level. He never sent them birthday cards or Christmas gifts. Their lives are lacking a potentially awesome relationship, because of his inability to know how to reach out.

In his defense, there were a lot of good things he did. Dad was the one who led me to Christ when I was only six. He commended me when I felt God called me into ministry as a young man. He was the one who initiated sending me cards of encouragement during my divorce. There were moments when he really stepped up. 

He told me once, that he was so glad I was the creative/artsy one in the family. He affirmed me for being different, despite a family that was largely unsupportive of creative endeavors. His words from that day still ring in my heart, “I was so glad you were different from your brothers. I was hoping for a child like you.” 

Dad was older by the time I was born. He seemed tired, sometimes grumpy. He never threw a ball with me or taught me how to work on my car. But I had the privilege of having a dad who was generous with his money. He would often take entire families from our church, out to eat. And because I came along later in life, he was able to provide nicer things than my brothers had growing up.

I’m gonna miss my father. He wasn’t perfect, but he loved God and raised me to walk out my Christian faith with passion. Now he’s in heaven. I wonder what he’s doing right now during his first hour in eternity. Is he walking next to Jesus? Kneeling at his feet? Hugging Mom?

Dad, your body is restored to a sinless state. What does that mean? Do you look anything like a human? Did you get your toes back that were lost to diabetes? Do you even need toes up there? Are you younger than me now? We can only guess at some of these things.

Love you Dad. I’ll miss you. It’s not really a goodbye, because I’ll be with you again one day. In your own words to me as you tucked me into bed as a child, “See ya later, alligator.”

“After while, crocodile.”