If I were to sum my Dad up in one word it would be 'Patience'.
All through my childhood it seemed that Dad was preaching this message, but not only preaching it he also practiced it to a fault.
When birthdays or Christmas or some other big event would come along and the excitement of it that built up days before got to be too much Dad would always be saying, 'Just be patient Debra! It's coming or its going to happen. Just be patient!'
Over the course of his life Dad was a very patient man. Patiently he survived all the thrills and ills of parenthood watching his
progeny grow from infants to adults, helped us through all the victories, successes and failures, falls and spills, temper tantrums to teen age moods, good decisions and bad.
He bandaged all the physical and emotional skinned knees; some with kisses and Mercurochrome and others with hugs and words of wisdom. He lovingly plucked all the splinters, put a paste or salve to the bee and hornet stings and fixed whatever else plagued our lives depending on whichever realm our wounds of life came from.
Through all of it Dad sought a relationship with his Heavenly Father, who I know was guiding Dad with a gentle hand the same way Dad guided us in his attempt to be a good example to his children. He remained vigilant, patiently steadfast and was always there as our port in the storm and the lamp to guide our paths.
When his marriage to our mother failed Dad still remained patient over the years, stayed silent when she would launch attacks against him, use his children as pawns to try and bring him some kind of pain for her own failures that brought destruction to their marriage. He never spoke out against her or said anything cruel or unkind to us about her or her actions.
When I asked him once why she was this way, being too young to understand the intricacies of love, marriage, romance and the things that happen when two people part ways with so much baggage and years between themselves. His response was something like, 'Be patient, she will get through this one day and be able to move on with her life.'
Dad did move on after the divorce. He again waited patiently while he worked on building his relationship with God. Waited for God to send him the right mate and in time He did. God gave my Dad a wonderful woman with whom he would share the rest of his life and be what a good wife was meant to be.
My Step Mother stood by him through thick and thin and they weathered the storms of life arm in arm holding fast to their belief in God and building a happy life together that had room enough to include us all.
It wasn't easy but Dad in his wisdom stayed patient. His own brothers and sisters weren't accepting of his new wife, not understanding or knowing the reason why he divorced in the first place and it being his nature not to speak ill of anyone, he never told them.
His children weren't kind in the beginning either and not understanding that Dad deserved a life of his own made things difficult over the years on our journey to adulthood too.
Eventually we as we matured we did come to understand all the how's and whys, figuring things out for ourselves but I am sure Dad had to draw a lot of deep, hard breaths as his patience was tried to the core as we grew into a mature life and that understanding.
For me she became Mom, the Mom I always wanted as a child and Dads patience was finally paying off as we were both doubly blessed by this woman of God who would stand by, build a life and lovingly grow old with him until the day he died.
On February 17th, 2003, Dad called me at 5 a.m., California time. The hour surprised me, even more so when Dad said, 'I'm not going to be around very much longer'. I mistakenly thought he was just feeling his mortality for a man his age and told him 'Oh, come on Dad, you're a tough old bird, you are going to be here forever'. I've never regretted my own words more or the fact that I had a habit of saying 'Catch you later' instead of 'Good Bye' but thankful enough that we never ended a phone call without saying 'I love you' at least twice, words that were once so easily spoken that I have learned now to never take for granted by not knowing if I would ever be able to say them again to someone I loved.
At 4:30 p.m. on the same day, the final phone call came. Dad was gone just as he had promised 11½ hours before and I believe he knew that he was going to his Heavenly Home that day.
In one quick instant Dad's spirit shed its earthly body and he stepped into Heaven where all of his patience had at last become its own reward for all eternity.
Dad and I, we never did say 'Good bye', but we did say 'I love you' and one day very soon with a little of that patience he taught to me we will say 'Hello' again on streets that are paved with gold.
It's a day I look forward to.
