Daddy never did well after that Murl’s death. Prior to that
time, he called me every Sunday morning.
I could almost set my clock by it, but now I had to do the calling. He would complain, “Just
getting dressed is a day’s work.”
Frequently, he would tell me, “You’re going to find out what it’s
like.” Every day that I live I come
closer to finding out.
In the spring of 1987, Daddy began to deteriorate
badly. He was admitted to Hendrick’s
Hospital in Abilene. He wouldn’t let
anybody call me, because I was scheduled to make a presentation in a class at
the Pepperdine Lectures in Malibu, California.
He was afraid I might cancel if I knew how sick he was. Of course he had things a bit mixed up. I
presented a class to no more than fifty people, but Daddy was telling folks
that I was preaching in Dodger Stadium.
Of course that stretched it by a great deal, but it was indeed something
of an honor.
That summer, we made a trip to Abilene in early July. He talked about his life – the things he had
accomplished, his acquisition of his home, his ability to remain financially
solvent, the skills he acquired to work with his hands, etc. Then he said. “It has been a good life, but
the most important thing in life is your faith.” That was the last rational conversation I had
with him
In the August of 1987, I went on a preaching trip to the
Samoan Islands. I had planned the trip
for some time, and had raised funds for the journey. A week before I was scheduled to leave, M. L.
Hughes, Daddy’s long time friend, went to the house and Daddy didn’t come to
the door. He never locked the house, so M. L. went on in and found Daddy lying
on the bed. He was unresponsive. He was
taken to the hospital with stroke symptoms.
He was never the same after that.
Daddy was hospitalized for a month and then entered the
nursing home at Baird, where he spent his remaining days on this earth.
Around the 1st of May in 1988 I received a call
from Dr. Calvo informing me that he did not believe Daddy would last very
long. I had some difficulty. Gary was in his senior year at Washington. He had not performed well academically and
his graduation was in question. I had no
choice but to leave him in Cedar Rapids.
Besides that my car needed work.
I got that done, and waited until Sunday to leave. Ann, Ruby and I left on Sunday afternoon, and
we drove to Wichita, Kansas. I drove to
Baird the next day and stopped immediately at the nursing home.
He was not conscious, and his breathing was labored. I felt his pulse and it was thready. I told Ann and Ruby to go on to Abilene and
get situated and that I would spend the night in the nursing home. They decided to stay awhile. I went to his bedside and said, “Daddy, I’m
here. You can go home anytime you’re ready.”
His vitals kept declining and within an hour he was dead. It was May 8, 1988.
Grieving over his loss was much harder than Mama’s. Part of it had to do with the fact that I was
so far removed from him in distance during the last several months of his
life. The other part was the realization
that both of my parents were gone. There’s
a certain emptiness that takes place when that happens, plus a keen awareness
of you own mortality.
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