Today was better in some ways, worse in others. It was better in that Dad rested very well and wasn't quite so insistent on getting out of bed. It was better in that Mom actually managed to get a little bit of sleep because our dear, precious friend Teresa was there to pick up the slack and help where Dad was concerned. But it was worse in that Dad slept more and we realize that this is probably going to be the case from here on out. Things just went from bad to stupendously bad faster than we could ever imagine. I haven't written him my letter yet, and now I don't know if I should even bother, since I'm not sure he will be aware enough to comprehend it. We haven't gotten him to tell us who he wants his various guns to go to, and we know that is something about which he had very specific plans. We don't know if he will be lucid enough at any point to tell us. It's not that he is still out of his mind or hallucinating or anything like that. It's just that he is so weak that when he is awake, it's difficult to get him to talk in a way that we can understand.
On the one hand, all of this is utterly heartbreaking. But on the other hand, it is encouraging to know that if it has gone so quickly thus far, perhaps it will go quickly the rest of the way, and our precious daddy will not have to linger long in this condition. I only wish that I could be there to see his face when he sees Jesus for the first time. What an incredible blessing. And how lucky we are that he is saved. This would all be so much different were that not the case.
Your prayers are still coveted. We hunger for them. I ask for you to lift up not only my father (and his continued comfort--blessedly, he is still in no pain that we are aware of), but his caregivers--my mother, my sister Laura, our dear friend Teresa, and Dad's precious best friend (and neighbor) Tim, who has been called on so many times (often in the middle of the night) to help get Dad up when he has fallen, or to watch over him when the rest of us are gone.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for praying.
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3 comments:
prayed for him and for your mom again in meeting on sunday. thinking about you all the time, all the time, carrying you in my heart.
Love you more than you know, Linds...
Holly:
I really am huring for all of you. If you want to write your Dad a letter then do it. I don't think you will regret doing even if he can't read it right now. Maybe later, but you will benefit from it as will your children. I have been attempting to write my children a letter and always have to stop because I just can't seem to get through without crying or hurting. I will do it though because I will regret later on that I didn't. Try not to worry about his guns - your Mom can help you there, I am willing to bet that they have talked. But those are small things and right now you need to make memories for you, Mark and the kids. I lost a good friend a few years back and when I went to the funeral home I looked in the casket and saw several picture, etc. My friend told me that her gandchildren had written their Papaw a letter and would be enclosing it so he could read later. Simple explaination and who knows maybe it will be read, but if you asked the grandchildren they were certain that Papaw would read and know how much they loved him.
Just a thought but it will make you feel better too. Just think a few years down the line you can read or let your children read and they will see what a wonderful Papaw they had and what a wonderful Mother they have for sharing that very precious moment with them.
Hope that helped soon but don't listen to me listen to your heart and follow what your heart says to do.
Still praying.
Aunt Loretta and Uncle Joe
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