In Honor of my Father

In Honor Of My Father
July 26, 1998 was a Sunday. This year, July 26 is a Sunday as well.
On that Sunday eleven years ago, my Father left this world.
His sudden death was a shock to everyone. Everyone that is, except me.
You see, just a few weeks earlier I had gone to my parents house for a visit. It was Fathers Day 1998. I arrived in the morning. My Mother had prepared a nice “noon time” dinner. That was their custom on Sunday’s. They would attend Sunday school and Church, and then arrive home to have their main meal between Noon and 1pm.
I remember it as being a beautiful early summer day. I remember a blue sky, gentle breezes and warm temperature.
After eating, I helped my Mother clean up the dishes. My Father would usually dry the dishes. My Mother would wash. (There was no dishwasher in their home)
But on this day, I stepped into the role of dish dryer and my Father went out on the back porch to relax. The back porch was right outside of the kitchen and the window was open. As my Mother and I chatted, my Father would add comment through the open window. It was a cheerful and pleasant exchange.
When we were finished, my Mother went upstairs to change clothing and I went outside and sat down in the chair next to my Father.
Our ensuing conversation will be in my mind forever.
My Father tells me that Mom is starting to slow down. She has days where she is feeling unwell and he is worried about her.
If I were to go first, he says, I don’t know what she will do to take care of herself. I pray to God that if we are ready to go, that she will go first. I will have a week or so to take care of business and then I will follow quickly. Therefore we will not be a burden on our children.
Without really knowing my parents, that may sound like a strange statement. In fact, although it surprised me, I did not find the remark unusual. My Father and Mother were so intertwined in Love and in Life that they seemed to breathe in unison.
My Father went on to tell me that he did not feel as if he would be around much longer. He was 77 years old and the “Good Book “did state that mankind was given 70 years by God. So he felt that the past 7 years were an unexpected gift. (Talk about Conditioning and a self professed destiny!)
Now, my father did have a heart valve replacement around the age of 70. After the surgery he had a hard recovery and always stated that he was living on borrowed time.At that time he was told that in 8-10 years he would most likely have to replace it again. It was a tissue valve and not a mechanical valve. He was adamant in the fact that he would never go through that surgery again. So I do believe that he expected the valve to stop being effective shortly and I also believe that he may have been experiencing symptoms. He would not complain, as he knew that we would insist that he have medical care.
So here we are, sitting on the porch on that glorious Fathers Day and my Father is explaining to me what I need to do in the event of his passing before my Mother.
Make sure you come to visit her often, he says. If she gets to a point where she needs to have someone with her all the time, I am depending on you and Michelle ( my daughter) to make sure that is afforded to her. I have planned financially to take care of her, so use that money to keep her and make sure that she is well cared for.
I learned later that he had similar conversations with my daughter, Michelle. We both tried very hard in the years that followed to keep our promises to him.
I listened intently to what my Father was saying. I remember “knowing” in my heart that this would be the last time we would speak face to face, but I pushed that feeling aside and jokingly said, “Dad, you are a worrier. You will be around for many more years, but promise me that if you do go, You will find a way to let me know that you have arrived and are O.K.
We then went on to a more pleasant topic of discussion and had a very enjoyable day.
Thursday July 30, 1998
I arrive back to my Mother’s house after my Father’s Funeral. I am amazed at what an absolutely gorgeous day it is. I sit alone on the steps of the same back porch where our last face to face conversation had taken place. I have a surreal feeling. How can the birds sing so sweetly? How can the Sun shine so brightly? How can the gentle breezes caress my face so splendidly? Do they not know that my Father is dead?
As I sit alone in my grief I have one thought come into my head. Over and over it plays. I cannot stop it. It is incessant. It is a song ….I believe by the Byrds. It goes…
To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) And a time for every purpose, under Heaven A time to be born, a time to die A time to plant, a time to reap A time to kill, a time to heal A time to laugh, a time to weep To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) And a time for every purpose, under Heaven A time to build up,a time to break down A time to dance, a time to mourn A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) And a time for every purpose, under Heaven A time of love, a time of hate A time of war, a time of peace A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn) There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) And a time for every purpose, under Heaven A time to gain, a time to lose A time to rend, a time to sew A time to love, a time to hate A time for peace, I swear it's not too late

It plays in my head over and over again. In some strange way it gives me comfort.
I start to feel a deep sense of peace.

Fast forward to a few weeks later. I am at my Mother’s house. We are packing up some of my Fathers things from the bedroom. On the night stand next to their bed is a large leather bound Bible. It is engraved on the front cover with my Father’s name. My Mother hands it to me. “I know that your Father would want you to have this” she says.
I take the Bible in my hand. There are a number of items in between the pages. They are marking pages that my Father was saving for further reference or as favorites. Only one item was an actual bookmarker. The other items were a church bulletin March 16, 1997, from their hometown church. Another was a church tri-fold information pamphlet from the Valley View Bible Church in Telford, Pa. (this is close to the town that I live in, but very far from my parent’s home town. I cannot imagine why he would have had that pamphlet in his procession, as he was never in that church to my knowledge) But most importantly, there is a half of a facial tissue marking one special page. As it happens, when I open the book for the very first time, it opens to the page marked by the facial tissue. On that page is chapter 3 of the book of Ecclesiastes.
It reads….
1There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a (A)time for every event under heaven-- 2A time to give birth and a (B)time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted. 3A (C)time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up. 4A time to (D)weep and a time to (E)laugh; A time to mourn and a time to (F)dance. 5A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing. 6A time to search and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep and a time to throw away. 7A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A time to (G)be silent and a time to speak. 8A time to love and a time to (H)hate; A time for war and a time for peace.

I read the verse carefully. I am immediately transported back to the day of my Father’s funeral. I am once again sitting in grief on the back porch steps. The song, There Is a Season Turn turn turn comes rushing back into my mind. I start to get a shiver up my spine. ( I also have a shiver as I write this) In a split second the significance of this all becomes reality. My Father spoke to me as I sat on that porch. He kept his promise to me. I knew that he had arrived and that he was fine.
That is what Life is really all about. Love and Light, Music and Joy, Staying Connected, Looking Out for each other,& Promises Kept.
I Love you Dad.

Oldest Man Dies at 113!

Sunday, July 19, 2009 the headlines read….

Oldest Man Dies at 113.

Setting a new standard for what we, as human beings, can learn to expect in life expectancy and longevity.I am a personal believer that we decide how long we will live and when we will leave to a very large degree. I also believe that death before 100 years of age or so is usually in some way some form of suicide.Let me explain….We are molded by the beliefs of our parents, or those that influenced us, in our formative years. Whatever is instilled in us during those years will influence the core belief of our life’s expectations as we head out into the world.Once we reach a certain point, this being early teens for some or all the way to “never” for others, we start to shed the influences that are counter-productive to our Life.Life is not easy. It has a way of presenting challenges to you over and over again. That is the point. If it were easy, we would all get very bored, very quickly. We are a species that need to be motivated. Discomfort is one of the best motivators. When things get uncomfortable enough, we will “move”.It is just instinct.Now, if we realize this, we can then create a pathway in which we are making better and better decisions. One choice at a time, we can choose the things that are pro to our life. For some, this awakening happens slowly. For others it happens in a split second. In the case of the gentleman who passed yesterday at the age of 113, he had lost his wife in 1970. His children followed. He was waiting to die. But then something or someone inspired him to contribute to the understanding of the sacrifices that he and his comrades made for this world in their service in WWI.The will to live was once again sparked and he continued on for many more productive years.So…..”Will” is a motivator to making the correct chooses for prolonging your life.On the premise that you are born healthy, I believe that your life expectancy can be far greater than ever imagined.We hasten our own demise in many ways. It can be excesses in areas such as tobacco, alcohol, food, drugs, & stress. It may be that through the circumstances in which you have created for yourself, you are very bored with it all, or just plain tired. Some people have just had enough and can not handle the complexities of this world. Take, for example, Michael Jackson.

What part do genes play?

Not as much as we were lead to believe, according to the latest reports. Our own cells and DNA respond more directly to the thought energy that we feed them every day.“Something to live for” seems to be a bigger motivator than inherited DNA traits. I have always stated that I believe that Life Expectancy for Human Beings is at the very least 120 years, if we learn to make extremely correct choices about how we live and what we eat and things that we put into our bodies and, most importantly, what we think, at an early age. The oldest woman in the world today was quoted yesterday. She said she reached 108 years old because of her positive attitude.I will accept that in 3 ½ years, at the age of 60, I will be entering “middle age”. I accept it because that is my belief. It resonates as true to me.I fully intend to use this body to live completely and wonderfully right up until the moment it dies. No long dramatic goodbyes for me.And at 120 years or so, when it has been completely and thoroughly used up, I will escape it in a split second and join the energy field from whence I came. Oh, by the way, if I do come back, it will be as a very well cared for Maltese dog, for they are most certainly the “Angels” on Earth!