The Unexpected Lesson
As I look over my haphazard journal entries that I made while Daddy was slowly leaving us, I'm not sure of the order of events. Perhaps proper chronology is not as important as what those entries say about the people involved and their love for each other.
We were living in Nebraska when my mother called with the message that if I wanted to see my father one more time while he still recognized me, I needed to come soon. I had not seen him in a while. How much would my father of more than 40 years still be familiar to me?
I did not know what to expect of my visit. I just knew I was tired of hurried phone calls and half-guesses about the burden my mother bore. I decided to have my daughter, Jessica, fly home with me. I think in some way I thought my daughter's sweet temperament would comfort my parents while also acting as a buffer between me and what seemed like an unreal scenario. She was only eight.
We arrived home. "Your dad's doing well," my mother said. But his attention span was definitely shorter and he left more sentences unfinished than he had before. Still he was more the man I had known than not. The weekend slipped by and then it was Monday.
Tuesday - a quick trip to the mall to buy Jessica some shoes and then---Not lunch and an uneventful afternoon but a blue pickup in a confused second rearranged our lives. Blackout and then a paramedic telling me I was on a helicopter. Blackout and pain and more pain as I was moved. Again another blackout and then I saw my mother's distraught and bloody face.
Mother had a broken collarbone and a fractured pelvis. Jessica wasn't hurt enough to require further medical treatment. I was bruised badly and I had a concussion. Jessica left the hospital and went to my mother's with a family friend. The doctor wanted me to stay longer than one night but how could I when my daughter was home without me?
"Lord, what did you want me to learn from this time? What sense did this make?" I at home with a throbbing head that refused to release me from this drugged like state, overseeing a father only loosely connected with reality, and my mother miserable in the hospital. "Lord, open my eyes to see the sense in what seems so senseless. Thank you for sparing us from greater harm and yet I wonder at the wisdom of your ways."
Slowly a miracle seemed to be rising from the crumpled metal and shattered glass of Tuesday's crash. The phone calls, cards, flowers and visits had not stopped. People kept revealing their love and concern for my parents. I was amazed at how many outside of the family seemed to treasure them. My mother who must have grown weary as she lived out in often tedious way the commitment she had made 48 years ago was now experiencing the love and care of God through an amazing number of family and friends.
As the pain in my head continued, I saw my father's eyes focus on my tense forehead, and slumped shoulders. He hugged me often. Instead of his usual playful quick hugs, he lingered over each of these as if hoping his hugs would squeeze the pain away. One night, cold and still in pain, I took an extra blanket to bed. I can not remember how long I had lain there when my father almost like a vision took the blanket and carefully spread it over me tucking me in as good as any mother would do. When the pain finally subsided, so did my father's piercing facial expression.
Repeatedly I told my dad about "Laura, your wife" who was at the hospital and why she had to be away from him. "She's a good woman. I know you miss her"
Again he told me about remodeling the house." You worked hard on this house." I said "You've always been a hard worker."
I showed him his marriage license and read the words to him. "You've been married 48 years."I said.
He hesitantly asked,"Are we still married?"
"Oh yes," I told him. Then I showed him a picture of a young Olin with a mischievous smile seated by his future bride. "You got yourself a pretty girl,"I said. "And she got herself a handsome husband. You've had each other a long time."
I hugged him whenever he looked like he needed it and I held him when he cried out of sheer loneliness and confusion.
At some point when I was the most overwhelmed with all that was happening I called Steve's parents. They came down to Salisbury for a few days. His mom took care of meals while his dad helped to keep an eye on Daddy. I remember at least one night when Steve's dad joined me in chasing after my father. Daddy had put my mother's pajamas over top his own. He dashed out the back door and under the clothes line before we could reach him.
I now understood better the pressure my mother felt since spending that time alone with my father. I also understood better the community of love and support God had provided. This was not what I would have ordered for my time at home but it was easy to see how God had blessed me with just what I needed to learn.
We were living in Nebraska when my mother called with the message that if I wanted to see my father one more time while he still recognized me, I needed to come soon. I had not seen him in a while. How much would my father of more than 40 years still be familiar to me?
I did not know what to expect of my visit. I just knew I was tired of hurried phone calls and half-guesses about the burden my mother bore. I decided to have my daughter, Jessica, fly home with me. I think in some way I thought my daughter's sweet temperament would comfort my parents while also acting as a buffer between me and what seemed like an unreal scenario. She was only eight.
We arrived home. "Your dad's doing well," my mother said. But his attention span was definitely shorter and he left more sentences unfinished than he had before. Still he was more the man I had known than not. The weekend slipped by and then it was Monday.
Tuesday - a quick trip to the mall to buy Jessica some shoes and then---Not lunch and an uneventful afternoon but a blue pickup in a confused second rearranged our lives. Blackout and then a paramedic telling me I was on a helicopter. Blackout and pain and more pain as I was moved. Again another blackout and then I saw my mother's distraught and bloody face.
Mother had a broken collarbone and a fractured pelvis. Jessica wasn't hurt enough to require further medical treatment. I was bruised badly and I had a concussion. Jessica left the hospital and went to my mother's with a family friend. The doctor wanted me to stay longer than one night but how could I when my daughter was home without me?
"Lord, what did you want me to learn from this time? What sense did this make?" I at home with a throbbing head that refused to release me from this drugged like state, overseeing a father only loosely connected with reality, and my mother miserable in the hospital. "Lord, open my eyes to see the sense in what seems so senseless. Thank you for sparing us from greater harm and yet I wonder at the wisdom of your ways."
Slowly a miracle seemed to be rising from the crumpled metal and shattered glass of Tuesday's crash. The phone calls, cards, flowers and visits had not stopped. People kept revealing their love and concern for my parents. I was amazed at how many outside of the family seemed to treasure them. My mother who must have grown weary as she lived out in often tedious way the commitment she had made 48 years ago was now experiencing the love and care of God through an amazing number of family and friends.
As the pain in my head continued, I saw my father's eyes focus on my tense forehead, and slumped shoulders. He hugged me often. Instead of his usual playful quick hugs, he lingered over each of these as if hoping his hugs would squeeze the pain away. One night, cold and still in pain, I took an extra blanket to bed. I can not remember how long I had lain there when my father almost like a vision took the blanket and carefully spread it over me tucking me in as good as any mother would do. When the pain finally subsided, so did my father's piercing facial expression.
Repeatedly I told my dad about "Laura, your wife" who was at the hospital and why she had to be away from him. "She's a good woman. I know you miss her"
Again he told me about remodeling the house." You worked hard on this house." I said "You've always been a hard worker."
I showed him his marriage license and read the words to him. "You've been married 48 years."I said.
He hesitantly asked,"Are we still married?"
"Oh yes," I told him. Then I showed him a picture of a young Olin with a mischievous smile seated by his future bride. "You got yourself a pretty girl,"I said. "And she got herself a handsome husband. You've had each other a long time."
I hugged him whenever he looked like he needed it and I held him when he cried out of sheer loneliness and confusion.
At some point when I was the most overwhelmed with all that was happening I called Steve's parents. They came down to Salisbury for a few days. His mom took care of meals while his dad helped to keep an eye on Daddy. I remember at least one night when Steve's dad joined me in chasing after my father. Daddy had put my mother's pajamas over top his own. He dashed out the back door and under the clothes line before we could reach him.
I now understood better the pressure my mother felt since spending that time alone with my father. I also understood better the community of love and support God had provided. This was not what I would have ordered for my time at home but it was easy to see how God had blessed me with just what I needed to learn.
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