The months pass unrelentingly since I was last with him--my beloved 94-year old dad. Each time I say goodbye to him it's with pangs of angst, as I think it could be the last.
He's already outlived most of his peers and friends. I don't want him to outlive his brain function—entering that shadowy, empty place that so many elderly people descend into, but I still hang onto him for dear life. I can't reconcile the memory of my strong, handsome, capable father with the frail, stooped, arthritic person he has become. Yet, I don't want him to go. I need him still. He prays for me like no one else.
I want to touch the warm, papery-thin skin of my papa’s wrinkled face; hold his bent, stiff hands in mine and remember their former strength. I wrote his story, I believe, partly in an attempt to "immortalize" him. But, the day will come when I will have to let him go…….
……Then, slowly, slowly, he'll slip through the meniscus of eternity—that thin layer that separates us from heaven—just a heart-beat away. The old worn-out body will remain behind. As he traverses the valley of the shadow of death, Dad will hear the roar and cheers of a "great cloud of witnesses" on the Other Side who will be waiting to celebrate his arrival. He'll step into the Light, whole and healthy. Jesus will be standing there—the Foremost Greeter—welcoming him with a happy smile, "Well done, good and faithful servant—enter into the joy of your Lord!"
Then Mom will slip through the ranks—running to embrace him. His parents will be next—so joyful in their reunion. Hanging back, a shade timidly but with glad faces, will be two of Dad's children. They didn't survive their formative season in Mom's womb, but now they're perfect and beautiful, greeting the dad they never met. I imagine Mom turning to pull them towards his embrace.
Dad will see the brown faces of his beloved Dayaks: Semuel, Lombok, Santi, Siga; he’ll catch sight of Hermano Campos, Hermano Maman×first converts in Tucumán. What joy to see these—and countless others— fruits of his lifetime of labor.
The list will go on and on: saintly friends and family who will push forward to rejoice in Dad's Homecoming, surrounding him with their delight. Dad will turn from one to another, scarcely able to take it all in. Glorious light, vivid colors, vibrant beauty will fill his sight: brightly colored birds darting about, flowers filling the meadows, angelic voices lifted in God’s praise. Such a party, such laughter, such reveling in the bliss—it will be uncontainable happiness!
So, maybe it won't be as hard to let him go after all. Why tarry on this broken planet? Heaven is waiting.
