I Miss You Dad......Day 3

Three years ago today. Now it was Sunday. April 24, 2005. This day is a bit of a blur to me. We stayed at the hospital all night in the waiting room, sleeping on couches or chairs. By this point, the doctor's have now told us how bad Dad's condition is. I kept asking why? How did this happen? My father was one of the healthiest people I'd ever known! He ran 10 miles a day. He'd just had a complete physical and passed with flying colors just two months before! It was determined that when Dad went for a root canal a week earlier, he hadn't pre-medicated before his surgery. Since he had an artifical valve from 15 years ago, pre-medicating was critical to keeping an infection from developing in his body that could become septic. A $5.00 bottle of antibiotics and my father may still be alive today! This was crazy! They told us they saw little hope. They're now asking us about organ donation. They're inquiring as to the length of time we would want to keep him alive artifically. It was surreal.

Because Dad was in I.C.U., we were only allowed 15 minute visits with him every hour. We didn't miss one. Every time I entered Dad's room, I would kiss his cheek, stroke his hair and whisper in his ear. I told him I loved him. I told him to hang on. I told him I missed him. I told him to come back to us. I told him I needed him. And I told him to please say yes to God. I begged him not to reject God's love for him. Not again. Not now.

In the past, when I brought God or Jesus into our conversations, Dad would say things like, "I don't need religion, Vikki. I'm proud of you for what you do, but I don't believe in that stuff." Dad had seen first hand what "Christians" were like and he wanted nothing to do with them. I tried to explain to him that I didn't need religion either, but that a relationship with Christ was completely different. He wasn't interested.

But, I didn't give up. I wasn't ever going to give up. I continued to tell Dad, "Please, don't say no to Jesus, Dad. Please let Him help you. He loves you. If this is your time, I need to know you're going to be in Heaven so I will see you again. Please don't say no to Him. Don't reject Him again."

If my father was about to leave this earth, I was determined to do whatever I could to help him experience "the peace that passes all understanding" while he was still here, even for a day. I knew that this kind of peace had eluded him all his life. His childhood was filled with turmoil and tragedy. I don't think he ever got over it. Dad never felt he was "good enough" to be loved. He was always surprised at how much his children loved him. Many of our conversations over the years went something like this: "I love you so much, Dad." He would respond with, "Really?! You really do love me?! Wow. That's pretty neat, Baby Girl."

Each time I left Dad's hospital room, I went off alone to pray. I asked God to "show me a sign" that Dad could hear me. I begged God to save my father and pleaded with Him to give me some kind of sign, so I'd know he had accepted Jesus. I told God that if He was about to take my father's life that I needed reassurances that my Dad would be OK. So, I waited. And waited.

Then, I waited some more. But, I didn't get my sign.