“Come unto me, all ye who labor and are heavy-laden,

and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28  

I walked into the room and stood quietly as I watched the nurse trying to feed him his pureed supper. He was not himself. He was arguing with someone who wasn’t there. I swallowed my tears hard knowing I couldn’t fall apart. That’s my daddy. I’m his girl.

He had had yet another terrible reaction to medication. That was Thanksgiving.

For 27 years, Parkinson’s disease has hammered and shaken his body, trying to break him. Still he has kept pressing, kept trying, kept going. In 2008, the love of his life, my mom, passed away from cancer, shattering his heart into a million pieces. Still he has kept pressing, kept trying, kept going. Then in 2011, a heart attack tore at his broken heart again. Still he has kept pressing, kept trying, kept going. In 2013, Parkinson’s took one of his favorite things, his ability to eat food normally. Since that time, even his water has been honey thickness and he has often told me pureed food tastes awful. In the last year, he has lost his ability to speak in a way to be understood. Still he has kept trying, kept going. He is my hero!

This Christmas God answered our prayers and Daddy had a rare good day and was able to come home and spend it with our family. He ate a huge supper which he loved and then he sang Christmas songs and hymns with us through the evening. We took him back to the nursing home late that night with a wide grin on his face. It was a precious Christmas gift from God that I will cherish the rest of my life.

At midnight on New Year’s Eve, the realization struck my heart that I would probably lose my dad in 2016. I just did not know it would be so quickly.

A few days ago, he had a terrible bout with choking. The nurse called to tell us that our worst fears were realized, he was completely losing his ability to swallow. While they have offered him food and drink, he has not been able to accept it or tolerate it. It has always been his desire to not have a feeding tube. That’s my daddy. Brave till the end. But I’m his girl and it has broken my heart into a million pieces. My dad will soon be with Jesus. Hospice has told us it could be any time.

Yesterday he seemed alert, though distant and restless. I loved on him, sang to him, read scripture to him, trying desperately to comfort him, and I told him “I love you” about fifteen times. Each time praying that he could tell me back just one more time. Then he finally mouthed the words I longed to hear. It was another blessing that I will carry with me all of my life.

Naively, I had thought that if he could say “I love you” one more time, that I could endure letting him go. No … Today, I realized I need to hear it again. I can never hear it enough. He’s my daddy. I’m his girl.

Soon Daddy will get a new, disease-free body and he will be healed. He will get to hear our Savior say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” I praise my Big, Big God for that and for the life Daddy has led and the legacy he leaves behind! I have no words to express how happy I am for him! But I admit selfishly, I am so sad for me (destroyed in fact). I just wish it were easier to say goodbye. He’s my daddy, and I will forever be his girl.

Lord, Thank you for sending Your son Jesus to die for us to make a way for us to live forever in heaven with you and our loved ones. We praise you that our suffering on earth can never compare to the rewards waiting for us in heaven. Thank you for healing my dad. Please hold his hand all the way home and hold our family’s hands as we watch him go. Amen