MEMORIES IN ROOM 10

The past 24 hours haven’t been easy.  Eleven years ago yesterday my Daddy entered Room 10 at Hospice at Wichita Falls.  He had been battling stage 4 colon cancer for several months and his body was tired.

He’d put himself through multiple surgeries and the poison of chemo all for me and my brother.  Left up to him he’d spent his last six months of life fishing and sitting on the tailgate of his truck talking to his cows.  But he raised a fighter and I was going to help him win this battle.

When your hero faces a life threatening diagnosis you’ll grasp at any positive word any doctor will say.  I did that.  Hard headedness and determination was present with David and Goliath and it was present in me.  Our family would beat the odds.

Many times God’s plan and our plan aren’t the same.  I’ve had to face that multiple times in my life.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I don’t like it, and at times I still question God.  I was angry that Dad’s disease progressed as it did.  Even as he was being loaded into the ambulance and taken to Hospice, I was bargaining with God.  The reality of losing him wasn’t getting through to me.

Now back to Room 10.  We were instantly surrounded by nurses who were more like angels.  They treated Dad as if he were royalty.  The pain he was experiencing was immeasurable and yet he never complained.  They ensured he was comfortable, clean, and pain-free.  For the first time in months, he was relaxed and his face lacked grimace from pain.  Even at this point, my mind was still in denial.  Not sure what I was thinking but I wasn’t thinking I was losing my Dad.

My brother and I spent this night alone with Dad in his room.  There were two chairs and being the oldest, I quickly realized which one would provide the most comfort.  Tommy and I had one of the most memorable nights of our lives that night with our Dad.  He wasn’t conscious, but we talked as if he was and we both believe he could hear every word we said.

We laughed and discussed how Dad had raised us to always take care of family – and he had a large one.  How consistent he was with discipline yet how gentle he was at teaching life lessons.  We laughed about slopping pigs, and being chased by a crazed bull.  We reminisced about the Eldred Christmas’s and how 150 relatives was a small number for our gatherings.  The stories were endless as was the temperature drop every time the “angel” would enter our room.  As Dad’s dying progressed his temperature increased.  The nurse shared with us it was “going to be a cold night for us.”  I had a small Texas Tech blanket and Tommy had only the jacket he’d worn.  As Dad’s temperature increased they would crank down the air conditioner.  It was January and cold outside.  The temperature inside his room seemed to reach freezing temperatures.  Knowing that he refused to use the air conditioner at home because it would cost money, made this ironic.  In his final night on Earth, his comfort was what mattered.

The common theme through our all night talk was how amazing was the man laying in the bed beside us.   How he came from a lack of money, food, and education, and through determination, a sense of business, and work ethic, grew to raise a family, make good money, and pass down the importance of integrity and a strong work ethic to his children.  A man having only a 10th grade education, grew up to manage a lumber yard serving millions of dollars in contractors and local builders, ran many small businesses on the side, and turned everything he touched into money.  He never met a stranger and provided help to anyone with need.

While all the above is true, I believe his pride rested on the proof that his children took part of him with them when they left home.  My brother earned a degree in Electrical Engineering from Texas Tech, and developed his own successful consulting firm.  Dad beamed every time he wore a Tech hat and someone would ask him how Tommy was doing.  He was so proud when Tommy branched out on his own.  Making his own business decisions and calling Dad for advice.

And then there’s me.  The one who tried his patience on a daily basis.  The one who tried my teachers patience on a daily basis.  I earned three degrees in education.  Teaching reading for thirteen years, earning a Master’s in Curriculum and Instruction, a Master’s in Educational Leadership, and a Superintendent’s certification.  For my final twelve years in education I served as a middle school principal – working daily with students who resembled me many years ago.  Our Dad’s pride was in raising us to serve others.  In teaching us the value of a penny and that your reputation, once tarnished, can never become shiny.

At 9:00 p.m., on January 11, 2008, we were all gathered around Dad’s bed.  Jesus came into Room 10 and peacefully and quietly took Dad’s hand and led him to his home in Heaven.  While my heart was still not prepared, feeling the presence of Jesus in that room is eternally etched into my memory.  Each year that I lived in Wichita Falls, I would return to Room 10 on the evening of January 11th.  If the room was unoccupied I was allowed to go inside and sit in the same place I did the night Jesus came.  I could feel His presence surround me and provide me the belief that Dad was with Him.  Sitting around fishing and watching cows.  Without pain and no longer needing Room 10.

As I reflect on these memories this year I have realized I too no longer need to go to Room 10.  All the warmth, love and safety I felt in Room 10 is living in my heart.  Dad remains a part of me daily.  I’m blessed he didn’t tell he how to live – he lived and let me watch.