A shy little prairie maid,
Who sang a lay, a love song gay,
As on the plain she'd while away the day;
She loved a warrior bold,
This shy little maid of old,
But brave and gay, he rode one day To battle far away.
Now, the moon shines tonight on pretty Red Wing
The breeze is sighing, the night bird's crying,
For afar 'neath his star her brave is sleeping,
While Red Wing's weeping her heart away.
She watched for him day and night,
She kept all the campfires bright,
And under the sky, each night she would lie,
And dream about his coming by and by;
But when all the braves returned,
The heart of Red Wing yearned,
For far, far away, her warrior gay,
Fell bravely in the fray.
My precious father passed away at 2:45pm on September 18th, 2010.
A nurse dropped by in the morning to check on him. His breathing was rapid; to him, it probably felt as though he were hyperventilating. So, we gave him a small dose of morphine to help slow his breathing.
Over the next few hours we noticed his breathing began to slow dramatically. My mom, sister, sister in law, and I began to sing to him: Amazing Grace, The Old Rugged Cross, His Love, and one of his favorites, Red Wing. His breathing continued to slow, and I felt my heart skip a beat every time a second was added between breaths. My mom began to pray, releasing him to the Lord.
I watched his chest and face with every breath - his body was trying so hard to continue living. The time between breaths continued to lengthen. Then my mom bent down, kissed him, called him her "precious one." Two breaths later he was gone.
A nurse dropped by in the morning to check on him. His breathing was rapid; to him, it probably felt as though he were hyperventilating. So, we gave him a small dose of morphine to help slow his breathing.
Over the next few hours we noticed his breathing began to slow dramatically. My mom, sister, sister in law, and I began to sing to him: Amazing Grace, The Old Rugged Cross, His Love, and one of his favorites, Red Wing. His breathing continued to slow, and I felt my heart skip a beat every time a second was added between breaths. My mom began to pray, releasing him to the Lord.
I watched his chest and face with every breath - his body was trying so hard to continue living. The time between breaths continued to lengthen. Then my mom bent down, kissed him, called him her "precious one." Two breaths later he was gone.
Daddy's last moments were perfect. He was surrounded by his wife, sons and daughters. I hope he heard our voices, felt our hands in his, and felt our love.
We desperately love you daddy! We will miss you every moment of every day, but we will live our lives in anticipation of seeing you again!
2 comments:
I have been meaning to leave a comment for a while now. Just never knew exactly what to say.
My husband, Elliott, and I have been away from the Arlington area for 10 years, but we were very involved at Grace prior to our move. I can count on one hand the times I saw your dad since moving away, but the impression he left on me while I worked at the office and attended Grace will always be with me.
I just wanted to thank you for chronicling your last days with your dad. Since I've been out of the loop so long, it was very encouraging to me to be able to see what was going on and know how to pray for all of you. I really appreciate your vulnerability and the way you described those days was very beautiful and honoring to your dad.
So, thanks, for allowing me to share in your experience. I have certainly gained a lot from it.
Pam Park
PS I sent one of Elliott's cd's for Tim to listen to, but I'm afraid I may have sent it too late. It has been an encouragement to a lot of people and I thought it would be to him, too. I hope your family will be encouraged by it now.
PSS Trey really has a gift for capturing moments with his camera. I've enjoyed looking at your family pictures and am glad to see what a sweet family he has.
pam,
thank you for your sweet words. and we did get your cd a few days before dad passed. we all enjoyed listening to it! thank you for your thoughtfulness.
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