Morning Reflection

My uncle Alan shot this photo of Dad hiking in the Adirondack mountains (circa mid 70s).

The past few days have been a blur of activity and emotion. I haven’t had time to sit and write and even if I had the time, I don’t know what I would have said. On Saturday afternoon at around 1:15, I go a call from my mom who was on her way to my Dad’s shop to pick up Sara’s kids. Sara was going to the hospital to see my Dad. He had done his usual routine – go to the bank, run errands. He came back to the shop and wasn’t looking to good, but in true form, said he was fine and just took an Advil. He had Chris wait on a customer and went out to his shop where, a few moments later, he suffered a massive heart attack. A friend who was nearby called 911 and Chris started CPR, and the ambulance came and took him to the hospital where they worked on him for a while. They were unsuccessful. Mom called me around 3:30 and told me he was gone.

Growing up, I often thought my father was invincible. Strong and tough, nothing would ever knock him down. He lived outside, basically. He wasn’t one to sit around for long inside before something would pull him back out to his shop or to working. I picked up some of those qualities from him for sure. So when I heard this, I said to Mom that I was not ready to have this conversation for a long time from now. You always know in the back of your mind that you will eventually have this conversation, but it’s not one you want to have so you think, it’s not going to be for a long time. But then it happens and you are stunned and shocked and unprepared for the reality.

Sunday night, a bunch of people came to Dad & Chris’s house and sat around a bonfire and played the drums. Told some stories, remembered the good times. I took a long walk around for a while … stood in the shop. Lots of memories there – of all the conversations we had over the years, all the plans and projects, all the things that were made in those buildings. We all had our hand in helping around the property over the years.

Monday was filled with looking at photos and getting them ready for the displays. That was hard, but the activity kept my mind busy. The service was amazing. Really it was. Hundred of people were there, and so many I had not seen in years and years. Many I didn’t know, and it was just beautiful to see how many lives he had touched. I am sure hundreds more would have come – Dad knew everyone it seemed. The testimonies and stories of Dad’s generosity, care, and helping hands, his love for the Lord and deep faith, and the crazy sense of humor and wacky adventures were so fun and healing to hear.

I can not even begin to express the gratitude I have to my friends and church family in Indiana who expressed their love and sympathy, and who I know stood with us in prayer during this time. My Dad was larger than life, and the impact he made on so many people will be greatly missed and a giant hole is now there. But I know that he is with the Lord, and I know that his legacy of giving, loving and accepting people as they were where they were will continue to live on through each of us who follow his lead. He taught me about servanthood by what he did.

I’m home now in Indiana, and I have a lot to process and go through, I’m sure. So continue to pray for Christine, for strength and safety, for encouragement and peace, and pray that the Lord would work in supernatural ways in her life. Pray for Sara, Matt and myself  for comfort and peace, and strength. For Gram (Mary) who now has lost her husband last February and her son. Pray peace and comfort for my mom (Barbara).

Sorry this is all so jumbled and not very well written. I just typed it out as I sit on the floor at Sara’s this morning, watching the rain come down outside the big windows.

You can sign the guestbook and read the obituary here. >>>