My parents were what was considered "old" for having children when I was born. I have a few friends whose parents were in the same boat. Although now in this country we don't consider 38 THAT old for having kids, unless of course its the first one. But mama and daddy weren't rookies as they already had my sisters, 15 and 13 years older than me respectively.
Growing up, I didn't fully perceive this. I've always been comfortable around older people, and I suppose that comes from growing up always around older people. As I grew older, I realized that my parents were not as close in age to my friends parents. Mostly, they had grown up with my friends grandparents!
This realization fed into my fears.
For what ever reason, and I don't know, possibly everyone has this fear growing up, I always feared losing my parents. Parents are our templates, our guides, the models upon which we shape ourselves. Also, our sources of stability and love. I feared losing them more than anything. My perception that my parents were older basically made me to believe that I could lose that at any time. I feared that they would never see me graduate high school, get married, have kids.
I especially feared losing Daddy.
Now don't misunderstand me. I love my mother dearly. Fathers and sons have a different bond. John Eldredge says that every man has a wound, and most often that wound is created by a man's father. And that only the father can heal that wound. I don't truly know if that is the case for everyone, or even in my case. I do know that I always wanted Daddy to be proud of me.
Daddy was Superman, even when we didn't get along all that well at times during my teens. He was going through things that I couldn't understand (losing a job because it was sent overseas), and I was a teenager. Nuff said. But if he was Superman, then age was his kryptonite.
I watched him through back surgery, a heart attack, and an aneurysm surgery. His mortality weighed upon me more and more. That said, God was watching him. The only reason his heart attack wasn't worse was that he effectively had a natural bypass. New vessels grew around a calcified artery and reconnected the blood flow. The only reason his aneurysm was found was that the x-ray tech ran the scan in the wrong spot, and a doctor happened to walk by and see it on the x-ray. He survived a surgery that a very high percentage of people do not survive. But through all this, I knew God was watching.
I was not prepared for cancer, and there will be a later post dealing directly with some of those feelings.
Suffice to say for now, this diagnosis was me and my fear, finally staring each other eye to eye. I wasn't sure I'd make it, nor was I sure I wanted to go on without Daddy. And for now, let's just say there were a lot of dark days.
Remember I said God was watching?
Daddy passed on January 24, 2011, at home.
Before they took him, Mama's pastor wanted us to gather around Daddy and have a word of prayer. As he prayed, God spoke to my heart. He said to me "I've taken care of you and you have not been destroyed this. I sustained you. I held you. I kept you going. You've stared fear down and not been torn to pieces."
Quite possibly, I was having one of the greatest and one of the worst moments of my life simultaneously. I shed tears, not for my father, but tears of joy that God had taken care of me. And I had assurance that one day, I would see Daddy again.
Four months passed. Jessica (my wife) and I found out that she was pregnant, something we had prayed for years to happen. She went to the doctor, they did a test to confirm. And then gave a projected due date. I was at work, closing up shop, when Jessica sent me a text, telling me the due date.
January 24, 2012. One year from the date of Daddy's death.
I had to grab the wall to keep from hitting the floor, as my knees buckled and my eyes filled with tears.
And again, that voice spoke to me. This was his stamp, showing me.
"I told you I had this under control."
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