He's seen so much...

Fifty-one years ago my dad would take care of my diapers. Now, in his last stay at the hospital, it was time for me to take care of his.

Wow, the things he has seen in the mean time.

My mom and dad had two sons - myself, and my younger brother, Ron.

Throughout the '60's we were a pretty average low middle class family. We were happy, and very close-knit.

That was the '60's.

The '70's were a different story.

In that decade my dad would see the company that he had worked for for so many years decide that if supervisors did not have a college education then they were not fit for that position. Well, as it turns out, he was a supervisor, but did not have a college education. He was demoted. He went from wearing a tie to work to wearing a blue work uniform. He took it in stride. He took to polishing his workboots daily. That was the way he could maintain his dignity.

Also in that decade he would see his younger son go from job to job, thinking that each job was beneath him. He would also see that son adopt a "free-spirit" way of life. How these things pained my dad. I watched him spend time in fasting and prayer, joining his prayers with those of my mother for my brother's salvation.

That was also the decade where he saw his other son, me, almost lose his life in a serious car accident.

What a toll this was taking on him.

In the 1990's my brother began to experience blindness; also he needed a walker to get around. At this same time my mother was becoming very frail. Her congestive heart failure was becoming worse and worse. My dad was now her care-taker - he himself beginning to suffer from a nerve disorder that has now left him chair-ridden.

Then one day in May of 1999 my brother complained of a strange feeling type of head-ache; such as one he had never felt before. He told my parents that he thought he was dying. By the end of that day he was gone. My father was there as they put him on a respirator. By that time my brother's body was twitching, brain-dead. My dad was there just as they shut off the respirator, and my brother breathed his last.

Such sorrow.

Fast forward to March, 2005. Now it was his wife that was on her deathbed. He watched as his wife, gasping for air, begged me to help her breath. This woman who had led so very many to faith in Christ, who had been a helper of the brethren, a prayer warrior, was now gasping for every breath. My dad could only watch, unable to help his poor wife.

Maybe it is a good thing that his memory is gone.

This old earth is not our final home.