Reason 97: A Time to Die, a Time to Mourn
100 Reasons I'm Retiring
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4
This was not one of the reasons I have scratched down into my notebook and begun to draft. In fact, the need to visit my ailing father more often was a reason to retire. My brother and I have spent the last 15 months in a holding pattern,
Waiting
Truly my soul silently waits for God; From Him comes my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation; He is my defense; I shall not be greatly moved. (Psalm 62:1-2) Late The train is late. I check my…
waiting. We knew Dad’s condition would not improve, but we were reluctant to admit it to ourselves, reluctant to look at a future that did not include our beloved father. We’d made plans to be in Ashburn for Father’s Day. Instead, June 12 will find us and our children in Rehoboth Beach, where our dad will be laid to rest next to our mother, who passed away in 2002.
I spent this weekend writing his obituary, ordering flowers, and booking hotel rooms. I will spend the next two days working on his eulogy. Dad was 95; there was a lot to encapsulate into 350 words for the Cape Gazette. And while my brother and I will miss Dad, there is also a sense of relief; the waiting is over.
There is a lot to say about Dad, a kind man, a good father, a wonderful husband, a thoughtful neighbor. But for now, there is one story I will tell at his service on Wednesday, a story from his childhood that led to his dream.
Dad and his parents began going to Rehoboth Beach, DE when Dad was nine years old. Dad fell in love with Rehoboth. He was determined that he would one day have a house at Rehoboth and live there. There was at that time a pink house that sat on the North end of the beach, a sprawling house whose decks overlooked the ocean. Dad would tell everyone that he lived in that house and that there was an ice cream parlor in the basement.
Dad is in his final house now, not the one he eventually built on School Lane in Rehoboth Beach, nor the pink house by the ocean. He is in a house that was built just for him.
And I just know there is an ice cream parlor in the basement.
I’ll be busy traveling and honoring Dad this week, but I’ll be back next week with the last of my “Reasons to Retire” series!
Have you lost one or both of your parents? What’s a favorite story you have about them?
My heart goes out to you at this time. I understand 'the waiting is over'. It was how we felt when my FIL passed from the this earthly life to the far better home built just for him. On this earth he had Alzheimer's disease and slowly slipped away as his memories disappeared. It was a relief to know he was in presence of God and as safe as one ever could be making new memories that can no longer stolen from him.
Both of my parents have been long passed. Mom in 2014 and my dad in 1998. My dad lived to see my graduate from CCP. It is hard to remember just one story, but rather the things that my father taught me. He shared his passions with me, and although he never pushed me to take interest in any of them, I did. I was drawn to photography and started holding a camera when I was old enough to walk. I still have a memory of the camera strap being around my neck walking down the steps of the Art Museum. We developed photos in his home darkroom. He bought me my first camera. He was not a formally educated man, but he taught himself everything and wasn't afraid to try anything. Dad taught me those things.
Mom was different. We weren't close, but I suppose in her way she gave me a work ethic. Told me that it didn't matter how much money you made as long as you were working. Today, that doesn't really work I guess. But, it was her way through her adult life working in a factory and being loyal to her employer.
My best friend would take a novel to describe all of what he passed on to me, but it is the reason I am a well educated women today. He believed in me even when I didn't.
My brother, the only one of my siblings that I resonated with, passed away before my kids were born. I wish they had known him. He too, was not perfect and my clearest memory other than the last day I saw him before his tragic motorcycle accident, was a conversation we had about how the turtles born in the sand struggle to make it to the ocean. Not all of them survive. Why do some make it and others not? Philosophical I know, but that was him.
All of these people leave holes in my life and left far to early. I hope there is a Heaven and I do get to see them all again.