Family Matters
This morning my brother sent me his late wife’s electronic diary - notes on the summer of 94. That was the summer that my dad was dying although we didn’t realize it for a long time.
He had been stricken with a bout of pancreatitis in April of that year while visiting the west coast. He ended up being hospitalized in California. My mother’s sister and her husband, Sam and Shirley, drove down from Mukilteo Washington and stayed in a motel for at least a week to support my mother through this difficult time.
Finally, he was strong enough to fly home to Southern Shores North Carolina and their retirement home. That spring he continued to be in pain and lose weight and endure lots of testing. Eventually, it was decided that he had cancer in his colon. In June, Eighteen year old Marnie and I drove there to be with my mother during the operation. It was strange to see my 6’3” father who was always larger than life in a weakened condition. We believed that he would soon recover and be back to being his golf playing, barbershop singing, and always joking self.
We saw him again in July as we went down to vacation at the beach. He was hospitalized again as there was still something wrong. He told me that he had cancer - they just didn’t know what kind. I was sure he was wrong - they had found the cancer and it was curable.
My sister in law’s diary picks up the story in August as he was again in the hospital in Norfolk. For two weeks there are lots of notations about phone calls among us sharing the information that trickled in about his condition. We lived all over the country - I was in Ohio, Wayne in Maryland, Geoff in New York and my sister Ellen in California.
My mother, who was receiving chemo for her ovarian cancer during this time, would call one of us and report what the doctor said and then we would inform each other. It was August 18th that she called me and said that the doctor “can’t prove it but he’s sure Pop has pancreatic cancer.” The diary reads: “Margot called Ellen. Wayne called Geoff. “ We kept each other informed all the way.
What the diary reminded me was how my siblings were coming and going to North Carolina. I was pastoring in Bowling Green and made plans to come in mid September. Per my brother Wayne’s suggestion, the week before my father died, I abandoned the lectionary and preached from the heart. I still have that sermon.
The beginning of September we knew that the end was coming. On September 2nd my mother called and said plaintively : “I said good bye to him and went home. And he did not die.” I had been convinced that I did not need to say goodbye: I loved him and I knew he loved me. After that phone call, I changed my mind and made arrangements to have someone else preach on Labor Day weekend and immediately flew into Norfolk.
September 3rd I saw my Dad for the last time. My sister in law’s diary described him:
“He lies in bed with his mouth permanently open. His head is very thin and with his teeth very prominent, his visage is almost skeletal.”
But he was my Dad and I told him I loved him and read to him from the Bible - John 14: 1-6 which includes - “In my fathers house are many rooms, I go to prepare a place for you.” Six years later I would read the same passage at my mother’s bedside.
Then Wayne and Mom and I left Norfolk and drove back to Southern Shores. I ended up sleeping on the couch in the living room and at 1 am answered the phone as the nurse informed me that he had passed away. My mom woke up and we stayed up for a few more hours talking and crying. It was a night - and a week - that I will never forget.
The dying and death of my father is probably a touchstone for me in understanding the enormous gift of family. Carol writes this:
“Every child had a role to play. Wayne was an organizer of lists (food, lodging, flowers, who to call, what to do) accompanied his mother to the funeral home and probate office, and at the request of Margot developed and delivered a short personal speech about Pop at the Memorial Service. Margot has been the spiritual and grieving advisor to her mom and siblings. Geoff did a lot of prep in the week he was there and will take over the payment of medical bills and Mom Mom’s Dupont affairs. Ellen convinced Mom Mom to get rid of both cars and buy a new one.. I did the food and flowers.”
My mother’s sister and her husband were invaluable at the beginning of this journey and she stayed with my mother for a month after the funeral. We siblings held each other up and together throughout all the questions and confusion of long distance concern for our beloved dad and the pain and grief of his funeral.
As I look back, I wish I had done more and been more available and aware of my mother’s pain and fear and grief throughout it all. At the same time, I recognize my brothers and sisters filled the gaps taking turns checking in and visiting and caring for Dad and Mom. I live in gratitude to have a family that knows how to show up and be present in the hardest time.
It is true - Family matters.
