My Dad's Last Gift

(In memory of my father, Nick L. Taral, born October 30, 1926, died July 31, 2002)    

     In the family room of my parent's home, upon a hospital-style bed, my dad lay quietly.  With oxygen piped into the nares of his nose my dad was awaiting death.  Quiet, yet peaceful, my dad had welcomed visitors and friends to his bedside for almost six weeks.  The condition:  heart failure due to weakened heart valves.  For many years Dad had fought many brave battles including two major heart surgeries,  a severe myoclonic (seizure) disorder and a host of other ailments.  He'd been hospitalized multiple times -- most recently a month and a half earlier for ventricular fibrillation.  Through it all Dad had maintained a stoic optimism which was unusual given his up-bringing.  I think his strength was an acquired skill.  As Dad grew older, he grew stronger spiritually and developed a deep faith in God by walking through some very scary times in his life.

     By the age of three Dad was living in a children's orphanage along with his younger sister.  My paternal grandfather had placed his children there after beating his then-wife nearly to death.  Within the year my dad was removed from the orphanage and living with his grandparents.  (My aunt followed two years later.)  Because of his early years of neglect and probable abuse Dad was a sickly youngster.  He told me stories of multiple ear infections and respiratory ailments -- in an age without antibiotics -- which kept him from actively participating in sports and other activities.  Dad said that his grandmother kept a vigilant eye on him, health wise, and was very protective (too much so?).  As a result my dad learned how to fear injury and sickness -- and become a fierce hypochondriac as an young adult.

     But as Dad grew older he began to mellow in his pursuit of perfect health.  When physical problems arose he began to take them in stride.  I watched Dad become a more brave soul than I'd ever imagined he could be.  By the end of his life he was more at peace than ever before.  Dad didn't seem to be afraid of dying and had come to realize that our time on earth was for a short season only.  To watch my hypochondriac father become a man of faith was enormously helpful for me to see.  As I've struggled with my own health issues and the health issues of my children, I gain strength from memories of my dad.

     Dad's last gift to me was special, indeed.  Visiting with him one day, we sat together just talking about nothing and everything.  Instinctively I knew my time with him was drawing to a close and I wanted to savor our moments together.  Tears began spilling from my eyes as I whispered,  "I am going to miss you so-o-o-o much!   I love you so much, Dad."  (I'm sniffing even as I write now.)  My frail father turned to me and held out his arms for a hug.  Falling into his chest I began to softly cry.  "It's okay, Kathy," my dad said.  "I'll see you, again.  For though we live on this earth for just awhile, our time in heaven will be for an eternity."  Taking a deep breath Dad continued,  "Whenever you are hugged by another, think of how this hug feels and how much I love you.  And if I love you this much, think about how much your Heavenly Father loves you!"  In that moment I learned that God had sustained my dad throughout his 75 years of life -- both in sickness and in health.  Dad was stronger spiritually even through his physical body was failing.  Love had, indeed, conquered all.  Dad's precious gift to me was this one very special hug.

     It's been ten years since my dad died.  He slipped peacefully away one morning in July.  I've often thought of that special time with Dad.  His words were a soothing balm to my soul and I cherish my gift from Dad ever more.  In the meantime I try to be brave and strong in the face of adversity and, remember the love of my dad and My Father in heaven.

"He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak ... but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like an eagle; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not faint."  Isaiah 40: 28-31