Life, Death & Garden Gloves

A few weeks ago I took an unplanned trip from my home in Michigan to my parent’s home in Wisconsin.

I didn’t tell my parent’s that I was coming to see them. I knew they were both sick, and my dad, who had been struggling with Parkinson’s disease for many years, had taken several falls over the last several weeks.

My plan was simple: show up, get them both back to good health, then hit the road back to Michigan.

The Word of God reminds us about something super important in the book of James: “Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (James 4:13-14)

My middle daughter, Danielle, who happens to be a nurse, visited her best buddy in Minneapolis and offered to extend her trip to go with me to her grandparents to see if she could help.

I had no idea at the time how much help Danielle would provide. 

We arrived at my parent's house at noon on Monday, just as my mom received the news from her doctor that she was positive for COVID. She was hacking up a lung and had been sick for almost a week. The next day Danielle and I were able to take my dad to the doctor, where he also tested positive for COVID. We realized that his lack of appetite for the last several weeks was due to COVID and not Parkinson’s. 

Danielle & I helping with my parents    

At first, I was relieved. I thought if we could find anything at all that appealed to Dad to eat or drink, his strength would return, and he would be good. By this point, he was so weak that it was difficult helping him around the house. And he was so restless from the pain that it was difficult for him to stay in one place for very long.

By Thursday, when I arrived at my parents to see if Dad was any stronger, my heart sank. I took one look at him in his recliner and knew he would not get well—not this time. 

Friday morning we had a meeting with hospice at my parents to get Dad some help before the weekend. His falls were adding up, and my mom was too weak to help him even with my younger brother’s assistance. Before heading to my parents, I stopped at Menard’s and purchased a pair of garden gloves. I figured after our hospice meeting; I would work in my parent’s yard. 

Denial.

I have always thought of springtime as a season of life, not death. I left after the hospice meeting and returned later that afternoon with the pharmacy’s medication; Dad had taken a nosedive. 

My heart skipped a few beats. I knew that Dad knew. My hands shook as I attempted to open the medicine I had just picked up. Pain medication that I didn’t think we would need for quite some time. 

I felt totally helpless and completely unprepared. The resilient man who had always figured a way out of an impossible situation knew. 

The siblings that lived far away were all on their way. All six kids would be together to help usher the man who had brought us into the world, out of the world.

I didn’t get back to my hotel until very late that night. I glanced at the passenger seat and saw my new pair of garden gloves, untouched. What a sudden turn the day had taken. How foolish was I to have thought I knew how the day would come together.

“What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”

Early Monday morning, March 29th, Dad took his final breath. 

The funeral director warned us that visitations were not well-attended due to COVID. However, for three hours, people waited in line to pay their respects to a quiet, humble man who never wanted to be the center of attention. His walk with God, his weekly Bible studies, the many people he prayed with who gave their lives to the Lord, the dozens of people he mentored over the years. In life, he was faithful and obedient. Death revealed his legacy and impact. 

Us 6 kids plus Mom in order of birth from left to right    

Last summer, I had a conversation with my dad regarding my garden. He loved gardening and was happy to see me loving it too. I shared with him that each morning I got excited when I looked at my garden and saw all the growth that had happened overnight. I wondered out loud if I would ever lose the excitement of working in my garden. Dad assured me that I wouldn’t, “The reason you love it is because we came from the dirt, and we will return to the dirt one day—it’s a part of who we are.” 

We all gathered around Dad’s casket at the cemetery to bury him on Good Friday. Knowing that Dad had fought the good fight and had finished his race was bittersweet for his family who was feeling the pain of his absence. If only the veil could have been ripped open a little for us to witness the beauty of seeing Dad in heaven, eating his fill at a banquet held in his honor, surrounded by everyone his life had touched in his 80 short years of life.

See You Soon, Dad.

“What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” 

Stay the course…

Sheila