I was going to go to yoga this morning. Was all dressed in my sweats, ready to do my 90 minutes of Bikram after dropping Ben off at school. I'd put if off for two days already. Just as we were about to leave, the phone rang. It was my mom.
"Your dad's probably not going to make it another couple days. Thought you would want to know". And yes, I would.
Ran to change. Dropped off Ben. Filled up with caffeine and gas and drove to my parents' place. My dad had indeed failed remarkably since I'd seen him a couple weeks ago. He's now lying in a hospital bed, no food for almost 8 weeks, a bare skeleton just covered with skin, can't take water any more, can't talk, yet he's aware of everything around him as far as we can tell.
The hospice nurse told us that he's never seen anything like this. Never seen anyone hang on so long, not eating. They had figured, in their weekly meeting a couple weeks ago, that he'd have been gone long before this.
That's my dad. My mom's exhausted and this is so hard for her. But we had a great visit today. Had one of those kind of talks that clears the air of old moldy cobwebby issues and makes the space between us so much sweeter. That is most definitely a gift from my dad. Probably wouldn't have happened if he had, indeed, passed a couple weeks ago.
God does work through him too, no doubt.