warning--the following post describes an event that some people may find disturbing because it involves death and love intermingled. don't say i didn't warn you.

my dad passed away this evening.

i had spent thursday night w/ him in the hospital, and when i tried to wake him in the morning, he wouldn't open his eyes and his breathing was extremely difficult. i felt right away that his time to go was near, and my heart sank. i tried calling my mom, no answer, my mom's cell phone, no answer, our family pastor, busy. i was scared witless as i saw my dad struggling for each breath. the nurse finally got a hold of my dad's doctor, who got a hold of my mom, and i got a hold of our pastor's wife who gave me a number to call my pastor at.

but for a good hour or so, i was alone with my dad, and i begged him to hold on, mom was on her way. i've never been around a person on their last leg of life before, and what i experienced today is that the lines between the natural and supernatural worlds seem to get fuzzy. somehow, even though my dad could not say anything beyond grunts as he gasped for each breath, i could feel what was in his heart clearly. and the love...the love...my father loved me so much...i saw his eyes fill with tears as he saw me sobbing over him, i saw the pain he felt at leaving me and my family.

all day, our extended family gathered as well as close friends. various pastors came to comfort our family, including my dad's personal pastor steve nicholson and his wife cindy, john willison who wrote some of my dad's favorite worship songs, dave frederick of the oak park vineyard, and rand tucker & his wife aimee of the hyde park vineyard. having rand and john come meant especially a lot to me because they have both been my pastors to some degree in the past. john also brought his guitar and we sang my redeemer lives and anything you ask, two songs he'd written that were among my dad's favorites. i have to say i'm so grateful to steve & cindy for their love and care for my family during this time. i never realized how compassionate steve was until this whole ordeal with my dad.

they say that your sense of hearing is the last to go, and even when a dying person seems unconscious, they can hear what we're saying. so all day, we spoke what was on our hearts to my dad as we caressed his hands, his face, his hair. i will never forget the time i spent today gently stroking my dad's face as i looked into his eyes and told him over and over again how much i loved him. i think my brother finally got to say everything he'd been wanting to say his whole life. and my mother...she will never finish expressing what is in her heart for the man she has been through hell and high water with for 34 years.

he struggled for every breath for another 11 hours until the doctor finally came and turned off his oxygen. everybody then gathered around and they sang hymns and prayed as my brother, mother & i sobbed. it was agonizing hearing him die, as he gasped for the air in his lungs that were cut off by the mass of cancer cells. somehow, i kept my face in front of his face, stroking his cheek and did not let my eyes let go of his eyes as i told him again and again that i loved him, and that it was time for him to rest now, until a few minutes later he gave up his last breath.

i don't know at what point my father went from looking into my eyes to looking into the eyes of jesus, but i know at that moment, he was free from the body that had been so ravaged by pain and suffering for the past 7 months. he was finally free. he is free now. he has entered into his rest, after devoting the last 30 years of his life to running after jesus and serving and loving other people. and he left me, his daughter, with the full assurance of a father's steadfast and unconditional love. never in my entire life have i doubted whether my father loved me. all my life, my mom told me that i was my father's joy of life, and i never doubted it. and at the same time, i watched my father's devoted love for god & god's people & broken people & hurting people & lonely people. i watched him be a father to so many who never knew what a father's love was like. i watched him love and cherish those who were forgotten or overlooked, whether they were single moms or widows and their children or the mentally ill. i know of countless hours spent on his knees in a little closet in my parents' house.

my father's life was far from picture perfect. he knew first hand the meaning of the dark night of the soul and was familiar with spiritual lethargy and depression. he knew first hand the pain and disappointment of pouring his entire life into a church only to see it seemingly die as his own body became too ravaged with disease for him to continue pastoring. he knew first hand what it means to sow with tears knowing that he would not see the fruit of his labor with his own eyes in this lifetime. he did not always behave like a loving man. but he had a humble heart and freely admitted his shortcomings.

i am so proud to have been my father's daughter. i am forever changed by the love that he showed me, not just his own love for me, but also god's love even when i didn't believe it was real. on april 4th, i posted that as i was driving, i felt a small voice saying that through my father's process of dying, i would find salvation. it seems that the voice was right. somehow, in the midst of the pain of losing my father, i found myself surrounded by a grace and love and comfort that i can't explain. even when i ran far away from god, apparently it wasn't far enough, and he still held me in his arms so that when i finally collapsed, i was safe. even now, as thoroughly broken and devasted as i am, i know that i will be made whole on the other side of this life. that is not to say that i am okay. i am far from being okay. i was a crumpled writhing mess of tears and hair and snot and fists and "why?"s and "daddy!"s on the floor a few minutes ago. i am unfamiliar with grief as close to the heart as this. i miss my dad so much. reality is biting a huge chunk out of my heart, and so the blood flows. i wasn't made for losing people i love, i can see that clearly now.

i just don't understand death. it's not natural. how in a single moment one passes from being a living being to being a dead one is beyond me. i don't understand how at one moment i was looking into the eyes of my dad, and the next it was a hollow mass of cells. i watched death take over my dad's body rapidly, and for a long time, i was perplexed and troubled because i could not find my father. so i asked steve (our pastor) if my dad was with jesus at that moment, and steve assured me that he was. it was a relief to me, and a comfort, because at least for that moment, i could imagine my dad painfree in the arms of his loving saviour, and took comfort in that image. but i was still sad for myself, because now i can't see his face light up with that angelic smile of his, and i can't feel his gentle loving understanding touch, and i can't hear the delight in his voice as he calls my name. i feel like i've been robbed of my most prized possession.

months ago, when i told my dad i was leaving the church and a whole bunch of other stuff, he told me he knew i'd be okay and that he wasn't worried about me. and now, i have to believe that what he said was true, even though i don't see how i could ever be okay again. i am crushed to smithereens but somehow i have to believe that the pieces will be mended back together again in time.

the wake is monday night 6-8pm @ colonial funeral home in niles and the funeral the following morning at 10am at the same place. i don't really feel like going, but i guess i'll be there any way.

musicwise, i'm too tired to say, but it involved damien jurado, denison witmer, the ocean blue, everything but the girl, and nick drake.