What I Knew

The day before my dad’s death, I sat in the hospital lobby watching and listening to the buzz of life around me.  Pondering what might lie ahead regarding my dad’s feeble physical state, my thoughts paused on a little girl as she entered through the revolving door.  A child of about 4 or 5 bursting with energy was followed by what looked to be her mother.  The little girl with long brown hair looked around as if expecting to see someone and then, suddenly, her eyes lit up.  She rushed to an older man who stood from his relaxed position out of the stiff chair.  He picked her up and gave her a hug that only grandpas give, and they both smiled.

My eyes instantly filled with tears, and large wet drops rolled off my face, temporarily staining my black hoodie.  At that moment, I knew that my future daughter would never get that hug.  I knew that my dad would never see his grandchildren run outside at his home, or play basketball, or sing in the children’s choir. 

I just knew.

I knew that he wouldn’t be there the day I come home with a glistening ring on my hand to announce my excitement that the Godly man we’ve all prayed for has finally arrived.  I knew that he wouldn’t be there that day to walk me down the aisle and reply “her mother and I,” while beaming with pride.  I knew he wouldn’t be there to hold my hand through the struggles that a new marriage can bring, or to stroke my hair as I lay in the hospital bed looking at my sweet newborn baby. 

For some reason, I knew.

I knew he would never see another birthday, or vacation, or Christmas.  I knew he would never call me by his favorite nicknames, or be there to finish the latest Lego set with my brother.  I knew I would never see him sit in his favorite recliner and laugh with my mom over something I’d said.  I knew I would never again see the special smile he reserved only for her, his dear bride. 

I can’t explain why, but I knew.

I knew that his time spent struggling for each breath would soon be over.  I knew that the only person he loved more than his family he would soon be face to face with.  I knew that every moment came down to this one moment, and that he could leave us knowing he had a life well lived.  I knew this was the earthly end, but only the eternal beginning. 

And knowing that, I give thanks.