My Dad is an enigma. He can be infuriatingly bigoted and yet childishly kind. He has always sworn a blue streak, which to this day makes me cringe when I hear bad words, but he has a tender spot for children and animals. He is stubborn, moody, and close-minded, yet he loves to read, learn new things, and watch the Discovery Channel. He’s had dark bouts of depression and loves to joke around and make people laugh.
He went into the hospital before Thanksgiving with pneumonia, which landed him in ICU on a respirator on the day for giving thanks. And like many times before in his life, he rallied–got off the respirator, out of ICU, and into rehab. But the rally was short-lived, and he felt like he was getting weaker instead of stronger. He was back in the hospital before Christmas. And from 800 miles away, all I could do was think of him, pray for him, and remember him.
On Christmas Day he was moved to hospice, and still, many times, I believed, I hoped he would get better. Sunday, after a very un-merry Christmas weekend, I stared out the large picture window in our living room. The cold, snowy sunset was soft and pastel–another beautiful end to the day!
As I worked on getting supper ready, the intensity of the colors caught my attention again–wow! So beautiful!
As I watched and took pictures, the colors deepened and intensified as the light of the sun disappeared below the horizon. Suddenly, I wondered if this was Dad leaving this earth in a blaze of glory. And with a feeling of peace and awe, I confirmed that this enigmatic man deserved such an amazing display.
The next morning I got the phone call that said my Daddy had died the evening before, taking his last breaths around the eleven o’clock hour. I was a little shook that my thoughts of the brilliant sunset were indeed true–it was his last sunset.
It’s only been a few days–I have nothing to do, yet I feel exhausted. It’s as if each half of my chromosomes in every cell of my body is struggling not to follow the source from which they came. I am a part of him, and he a part of me. And so it goes…
I am so sorry for your loss. My condolences to you and your family.
Thank you for your kind words, Linda.
Such a beautiful tribute! Your father sounds very much like mine-another bigoted, foul-mouthed tender hearted man. Was your father German, by chance?
My heart goes out to you during this time….. Be gentle with yourself.
Thank you, Ann. He was a full-blooded Dane! I appreciate your kind words.
I’m so sorry to hear this. We, too, watched that sunset. My “city kids” don’t always get to experience this and we pulled the curtains to watch the colors. Thinking of you and wishing you peace. Barb and Jeff
Thanks, Barb and Jeff. Good to hear from you! I bet you had a wonderful Christmas with the kids and grandkids.
What a beautiful tribute to your dad Denise, full of compassion and grace. He would surely be proud as I am. My prayers continue for you and your family. Vickie
Thanks so much, Vickie. Now it sounds like the service may be in January–we’ll let you know.
Reading this gave me goosebumps. Sorry for your loss, Denise. Keeping you in our thoughts in prayers during such a difficult time. Much love!
Thanks so much for the thoughts and love, Brooke.
I hold you in my heart……in 1981 our prayer became…
…our Father who is now in heaven…
May love and warm memories bring comfort and strength for every day
??❤️
Thank you for your kind words, Dee–I appreciate it.
Denise,
It doesn’t surprise me that you connected the sunset to your Dad’s death. Your intuition has always been remarkable. What a great tribute.
Love, Barb
Thank you, Barbie. Love to you.
Beautiful, Denise! Thinking of you and holding you up in prayer. Know I am here anytime you need someone to talk to or listen!
Love you, Rosemarie
Thank you, Rose, and thanks so much for calling the other day.
You were given two gifts. A good Dad and insight that is even more valuable because you can share it so eloquently.
Thank you so much, Muriel. I appreciate your kind words.
Verry accurate discription of Uncle Ken
I guess we’re all hard to understand at times.
This is a wonderfully done tribute.
He was a complicated and sometimes difficult man to have as a brother-in-law but we loved him anyway.
On previous hospitalizations he would often-times be angry and difficult for the nurses to deal with, but this last time he seemed grateful for and coooperative with their care. I think he was at peace with the inevitable and that he met it with a great deal of grace.
So good to know, Jesse–thank you.
So sorry for your loss Denise. I can relate to this as my father passed away in Oct. My thoughts, prayers, and tears are with you and your family at this time. I also took pictures of a beautiful sunset a day before my dad passed but did not have the intuition to think as you did. Thanks for capturing this sunset and for sharing it.
Thank you, Kay. My sympathy to you also. Hopefully see you sometime this year.
Beautifully written…Hugs!
Thanks, Beth!