Dad and my older sister, Penny. I like this picture. They both look so happy.

I apologize for the delay of this week’s posting. I had some surgery on Monday and it has goofed up my week. It was nothing serious, but has changed my schedule.

Dad’s Homegoing

2/8/2024

My Dad’s name was Robert.  He was a good man.  And a good father.  Sure, he wasn’t perfect.  What person is there that is or was perfect, besides Jesus?

Dad, like all of us, had his faults.  But in my opinion, all of the good things about him far outshined the faults that he had.  He believed in teaching us, his children, to work hard and to value work.  He taught us about fairness and how to interact with those around us.

Dad loved life and he loved his family.  There was little doubt of this.  Although, as teenagers, there is always a question about that.  It is amazing, the closer I got to the age of 25 the smarter Dad got.  Maybe it wasn’t as much of an issue of Dad getting smarter but of me being less dumb.

Dad died 33 years ago next month.  I was 28 years old when Dad died.  Sitting here thinking about it, it is hard to believe that I have lived half of my life without his guiding voice.

That voice could be so infuriating.  Proverbs 27:14 states: A loud and cheerful greeting early in the morning will be taken as a curse!  That verse described Dad.  He was a morning person.  And a LOUD morning person.  I was more like Mom.  A night owl.

Dad liked to talk to his kids first thing in the morning.  It didn’t matter if it was while we were at home or once we moved out on our own.  Out of the house, our phones would ring early in the morning.  I remember having to rush for the phone on many occasions, thinking it might be nice if Dad would call later in the day.  Oh, how I wish I could have one of those early morning calls from him again.

Dad and I weren’t seeing quite eye to eye on something the week that he died.  We weren’t fighting, just not agreeing on something.

We lived in a little village of 215 people at the time.  Mom and Dad lived 2 blocks behind the house my wife and I lived in.

I was working at my father-in-law’s printing shop at the time.  It was usually Monday through Friday that I worked.  But it had been a busy week and I had an order for 100,000 business card blanks we printed every two to three months for one of the big banks in the area.  I printed the raised logo on the stock and the bank’s in-house print shop would print the flat black information on the cards.

This order usually took 6 to 8 hours at least, so I couldn’t get it done during the week.  That meant I had to go in on Saturday to get the order finished.  Wasn’t a big deal.  I’d had to do that before to complete this order.

Dad had called, as usual, the morning before I left and we talked a little.  I decided I would go see him before I headed to Appleton to work.  There wasn’t any special reason for the visit, just wanted to see him.  Mom had left for work already.

I stopped over.  Dad and my five younger siblings had finished breakfast and were cleaning up.

When I first arrived, Dad was sitting at the end of the table.  I scratched his back a little.  Dad always liked back scratches.  As we talked, he got up and moved to the sink.

I knew I had to get going if I was going to get the printing job done that day.  I went to the sink beside Dad, gave him a one-armed hug, and told him I loved him.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.  Our family had always been vocal about telling each other we loved each other.  And also showing each other how we loved each other in other ways.

So, with the hug and the I love you, I headed to work.

It took around 45 minutes to drive from the village in which we lived to Appleton where I worked.  Sometimes I spent this time listening to the radio, praying, thinking, or whatever I felt like that day.  This was before the days of cell phones and streaming music.

Ten to fifteen minutes into my drive, I felt God telling me that Dad was going to die that day.

You may ask how did God speak to me?  Did I hear His voice?  Did He appear beside me in the car?

Some might call it a premonition.  Others a Word of Knowledge from God or a Word of Wisdom.  I don’t have any fancy words to call it.  I only knew that God spoke these words to my heart.

As soon as I felt these words, I dismissed them as my own thoughts.  I had no reason to think that Dad was going to die that day.  Dad wasn’t the healthiest person in the world, but he didn’t seem to be near-death either.

God responded as soon as I dismissed the words said in my heart.  I asked back, how can that be?  Dad can’t really die today.

God again told me that by the time I got home that night, Dad would be gone.

Immediately, I started questioning this.  Each time the words came back stronger this was to be.

I was slowly accepting that these weren’t words just from my imagination but it was God speaking to my heart.  There was no reason that I could think of that He would tell me this.

So then, I began to argue, bargain, deny, and do all the various things a person does when presented with grief.  The remainder of my trip to work was filled with my going back and forth with God about Dad not dying that day.

I got busy with work once I arrived and quickly forgot about the conversation from the morning’s drive.

It was five or six o’clock when I headed home again.  My thoughts were on many other things on the drive home.  I still had not remembered the morning’s talk with God.

Since my wife was working second shift in a nursing home at the time, I thought I’d stop at Mom’s and Dad’s and visit for a little while.  Again, I had totally forgotten about the conversation God and I had that morning.

I drove to their house and I saw our pastor’s car as soon as I drove into their driveway.  All at once, the morning’s conversation returned to me like a flood.  I knew immediately why Pastor Crandall’s car was in Mom’s and Dad’s driveway.

Hurrying into the house, my fears were confirmed.  Dad was gone.  He had been watching TV in the afternoon with my younger siblings and slipped away.  The paramedics came and tried to revive him but to no avail.

I remember leaning against Mom’s big China cupboard crying.  My youngest sister was standing near me.  I sobbed that I was only 28, how could my dad be gone?  Jen softly said ‘’I’m only 12 and just lost daddy.’’  I remember wrapping her in my arms and hugging her tight.  I realized how selfish I was being and how hard she was hurting.

Many of Mom’s sisters and a brother came to help Mom and the kids over the next couple of days.  The funeral was held four days later.

Since it was the middle of March, we couldn’t bury Dad right away.  The ground was too frozen that year.  We had the interment service in April.  After the short service, everyone went to a local restaurant in New London for lunch.

I stayed behind and went away off to watch the workers lower Dad into the ground.  I don’t know why I felt I needed to do that.  Maybe watching too many funeral scenes in movies.

It hurt so hard to see that coffin lowered into the ground.  That meant Dad was really gone.  Even now thinking about it, my heart hurts and there are tears in my eyes.

But, in that moment as I watched the workers bury Dad, God gave me a poem.

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Dad’s Poem

April 12, 1991

They buried the man I love today,

my father, my friend, my guide.

I watched as they lowered the casket down,

of my father, my friend, my guide.

I cried as they set the lid down on,

my father, my friend, my guide.

I know I will miss him, the man that I loved,

my father, my friend, my guide.

Then a glorious thought, wonderful thought had I,

of my father, my friend, my guide.

Someday a reunion in heaven we’ll have.

my father, my friend, my guide.

And together we’ll worship around that Great Throne,

Our Father, Our Friend, Our Guide!

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Yes, after 33 years, I still miss Dad a lot.  But he knew Jesus as his personal Savior, so I know I will see him in heaven someday.  And now he is healthy again.  I am sure he can run and walk and do things without pain.

And someday, I will stand beside him as we worship God the Father together in heaven.  That is something I can fully look forward to.

Do I know why God felt He had to tell me about Dad’s death that morning on my way to work?  No, not at all.  Maybe to prepare my heart.  Maybe as a blessing to know that He had Dad in His care.

I will likely never know the true reason until I get to heaven.  But looking back on it now, I can see it as a special blessing.  God loved me enough to let me know in advance.

Romans 8:28 states: “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’’

Hopefully, this story can encourage you to trust God and listen for His voice.  Sometimes, the message may not be what we want to hear.  But God is always faithful to do the best for us.

Trust in Him today.

 This was taken a year or two before Dad’s death. Dad and Mom at a World Book Encyclopedia convention where Mom won awards for her sales team. This is one of my favorite pictures of Mom and Dad.