Peace And Rest, At Last

Like many people in this country, my parents divorced when I was very young. A few years later, my mom met a guitar pickin', truck drivin' Oklahoman through mutual friends. When they say opposites attract, this is what they mean, as my mom was a refugee from Height/Ashbury and the hippie counterculture. The bond was instant, and not long after, my brother and I had a new family, complete with 2 brothers and a sister. Looking back, it seems appropriate that they married on Valentine's Day, as only cupid would have looked at these two and saw lifelong partners.

Raised on a farm in Oklahoma, hard work and discipline were the foundations of his life. As my brother and I integrated into our new family, the bumps in the road were inevitable. But combined with my mom's tenacity and professionalism, they shaped who I am today. No matter the struggles we encountered as a family, he always worked as hard as he could to provide what we needed, keep a roof over our heads, and food in the kitchen. Not an easy task for our group.

While my father remained a part of my life for years after our new family moved to Arizona, geography and circumstances of life created a disconnect, and my stepdad ultimately became my dad. Raising me through high school was no easy task, as I found rebellion a very comfortable fit, and our stubborn streaks met more than once in confrontation. He had to wonder how he found himself in this situation, but he never wavered in his attempts to raise a responsible, hard working young man, and after years of trial by fire, his efforts ultimately paid off. When I moved into my first apartment, I couldn't wait to leave all the lights on, the cupboard doors open and the air conditioning on with the front door wide open. That is, until I finally understood the financial impact of those things (okay, maybe not the cupboard doors). As with most kids, my dad's fanaticism slowly became wisdom and logic (the first sign of growing up or growing old, I am told).

Burning the candle at both ends, the middle, and all segments in between began to catch up with my dad, and, over the past decade, his health struggles became increasingly difficult, making the things he really loved doing, like riding horses and going on trips to the ranch to work, hard, and ultimately impossible. Diabetes, and the insulin on which he had become dependent, damaged his kidneys. Vascular disease required surgeries and a quadruple by-pass. But it was COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease), that was the monster. He may have lost many of the things he once loved doing, he never lost the love for his family and friends. Through his faith, he restored and enhanced his relationships with his family, and expanded his circle of friends immeasurably. That was never so evident as it was this last week. Hospitalized again with respiratory troubles, the constant stream of people coming to see him or calling to offer support was, while at times challenging, overwhelming to say the least.

This weekend, as he became less and less able to depend on his body to produce the oxygen necessary to continue without assistance, we huddled around him and made the decision we knew he would want. He had a living will, and had shared with all of us through the years of struggles his desire not to be kept alive by artificial means. Yesterday, we met with his doctor, discussed his condition, and decided it was time. At 4:51pm yesterday, surrounded by family and close friends, his struggle ended and he went home to be with his Lord.

Brad Paisley has a song Called "He Didn't Have To Be" that sums it up best. "And then all of a sudden oh it seemed so strange to me, how we went from something's missing to a family. Looking back all I can say about all the things he did for me, is I hope I'm at least half the dad that he didn't have to be."

Rest in peace dad, you've more than earned it.