As I left, Dad had drifted off to sleep. We’d talked for quite some time, longer than usual, but hadn’t really gone into depth about anything. Dad was too ill for that.
As I left that day, I gave Dad a kiss on his forehead. Not something I normally do; My parents weren’t really touchy, feely people. Just the way they were brought up, I guess. But it just felt like the right thing to do.
I don’t know why… but later I would.
As I closed the door, I looked back into what used to by my bedroom, shared with my three older brothers. Today, it looked more like a hospital side-ward and it goes without saying, it was a lot tidier than when I was it’s occupant!
Dad looked calm and peaceful and our conversation had been calm and peaceful, too.
As I drove home that day, I couldn’t help but think back to years gone by… when some of our conversations hadn’t been quite so calm.
What is it with families?
Why the arguments?
Why the falling out with people we love and care for?
I remembered the good times…
The holidays. Always the same two weeks in August. Always by the sea in the UK. Dad would bring a cup of tea and biscuits in to wake us up… only on holiday… I loved that!
Going to watch football matches together…
Playing cricket on the beach or in the garden…
Washing his car… I hated that!
They were good times… really good times!
We’d come through a difficult spell that went on for too long… far too long.
Over something and nothing.
Like most family rows, I guess.
But that was gone now. We’d made up and had both let it go.
Dad’s illness had brought us closer together. I always regretted that it had taken a serious illness to enable us to talk more freely to each other… to share more and to show that we really did love each other.
In those last few weeks, we talked more about things that mattered in life than we had in the previous 60 plus years…
We talked about family…
What’s important in life, rather than just superficial stuff.
We talked about faith…
Dad wanted to talk about faith…
At first, I just listened politely, because my faith was pretty much non-existent. But as his illness developed and the cancer took hold more and more, Dad’s faith got stronger and stronger. He was close to death, yet lay there thanking Jesus… praising Him!
I didn’t get it.
I really didn’t get it!
Though in the months ahead it would become the catalyst that triggered my own faith.
Thank you, Dad.
Not long after I’d left the family home, I had a call from my oldest brother…
Before he even spoke, I knew why he was calling. He didn’t have to say anything.
Cancer had won.
We knew it would, but that didn’t help.
Not at the time.
Has time healed?
I’m not so sure.
Has faith healed?
When I look back to that time with Dad…
That last time we spent together…
I always have a little smile to myself.
That room, where Dad took his last breath had been the place that I had so much fun as a kid.
That room brought back so many happy memories.
I miss you, Dad.
Rest in Peace.
Living a Life of Purpose
21 Days of Transformation: A Journey to Dig Deep into Your Inner Thoughts
If that sounds like a journey you’d like to take with me…
If you feel the need to dig deep and find out things about yourself you never knew existed…
If you need clarity and purpose to be at the forefront of your life…
Let’s take this journey together.