Final Memories Should Be Gifts

This has been perhaps the toughest week of my life, thus far. Definitely the saddest. I've never been so sad that I couldn't cry. Until now.

Last Wednesday, at 2:15am, I got a phone call. They say when the phone rings in the middle of the night, it's never good news. They're right. My dad was rushed to the emergency room, because he collapsed in his bedroom. My mom told my sister his coloring was off, and it didn't look good.

I got from Hudson to the hospital in Eau Claire (60 miles) in less than 40 minutes. When I got there, I found my mom sitting by my dad, with a tube in his mouth. A priest was standing there next to him. I really thought it would be like it had been a few times before - he'd have a surgery, or some other procedure, and I'd wait with my mom in the waiting room, and we'd all see him bounce back - the man had nine lives it seemed. Really. Not this time. He was gone.

The next days were a blur of phone calls, funeral planning and entertaining. I'm now feeling very over-protective of my mom, who is now alone. I am reminded that life is fragile, and our lives are but a vapor, here today and gone tomorrow.

Just last weekend, we had the privilege of visiting my parents and enjoying pleasant conversation for hours. My dad insisted my husband take a hunting blind of his as a gift. Why was he so insistant? Did he know something? Did he know that he would be gone in just a few short days? I am so thankful for the gift we had in that last visit.

I remind you that the lives of your loved ones are but a vapor - don't pass up the opportunity to let them know that they are loved. May your interactions with them be pleasant - and your final memories spent with them, gifts.

You can view a memorial video of my dad, James Brockman, who passed away September 23, 2009 at http://www.fullerspeckien.com/ . (Go to "obituaries".)