WRITTEN BY TIM LABRECHE
I got a call on Thursday night from my mom. Dad was in his chair but wasn’t getting out of the chair to get ready for bed. She needed help. I went over and helped get Dad out of the chair and standing by his walker.
“Okay, dad, now start walking towards your bedroom.”
I could see his left foot move back and forth ever so slightly, unsure of what to do. This continued for a good ten to fifteen minutes. At that point, I realized that Dad had forgotten how to walk. So I helped him sit down on his walker, pushed him to his bedroom, and positioned the walker by his bed.
“Dad, it’s time to get in bed.”
He looked up at me with a slightly bewildered look on his face. It was a childlike and confused look that I’ll never forget. He placed an arm on his dresser and one on the walker to push himself up, but again, he forgot what to do. Finally, after another 15-20 minutes of trying to let him figure it out, I asked him if I could hug him. I bent down, wrapped my arms around his frail body, and lifted him from the walker to his bed. Mom finished getting him ready for bed, and he slept through the night.
The following day, we called hospice to give them an update on the previous night’s events. The nurse came out that day and told us that it appeared Dad was starting to transition to the end of life. Along with forgetting how to walk or stand, his breathing had become much more labored and pronounced. He wasn’t conscious or aware of what was going on around him. I had started to spend the night at Mom and Dad’s place to help where needed. Sleeping was difficult as I could hear his labored breathing through the wall. It was so difficult to hear the man who was always so strong struggle to breathe, even with the help of oxygen.
We shared the news of Dad’s progress with close friends and family. A dear friend who recently lost a parent shared with me the privilege and honor it is to experience the miracle of death that leads to everlasting life with our Heavenly Father. That statement alone shifted my perspective and brought such peace to me in an uncertain time.
The hospice nurses came out Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to look over and care for Dad. (They were amazing!) On Sunday, as I talked with the nurse at the dining room table, she noticed she couldn’t hear him breathe as heavily as he had been. We both went back, and she recognized that my dad was only minutes away from his last breath. She called Mom back, and we both were there as Dad breathed his last breath and entered the place God had prepared for him in heaven.
Of course, there was sobbing, tears, and sorrow at the moment. The realization that Dad was no longer with us hit. But within minutes, there was a peace that still amazes me almost two weeks later as I write this. During that time, I went back to what my friend had shared with me. I had the honor and privilege to be at Dad’s side as he entered heaven’s realm, to hand him over to heaven with my mom. Even as I type this, good tears are forming in the corner of my eyes as I look back on that moment.
But that peace we have isn’t something we have to work for. It’s not something that if we do this, this, and this, checking things off of a checklist, we’ll attain. No, that peace is a gift freely and lovingly given to us by God through his son, Jesus, the Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6 describes Jesus as a “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.” Looking back on that day, God’s Word rings true as it always does. All of those attributes of Jesus were there in those moments of mourning, especially the Prince of Peace. Within minutes, there was peace knowing that my Dad was no longer suffering from memory loss, and his heart was no longer betraying his body. Not only has my Dad reunited with his brothers, parents, and friends that have entered eternity before him, he is in the presence of God Almighty. Oh, what peace and joy that brings!
In the future, I’m holding on to the promise in Psalm 29:11. It reads, “The Lord gives his people strength; the Lord blesses his people with peace.” So in those times when I’m weak, He will provide strength to carry on, and when those moments come when I miss his corny jokes or gentle smile, I know I will be comforted with heavenly peace.
- What does the need for peace look like to you? It doesn’t necessarily have to be amidst something tragic like losing someone you love. You might need to ask Him for peace as you’re shuffling the little ones between dance, a game, or running to the store to pick something up for a school project that is due tomorrow morning. Take a few moments, unlock your jaw, unclench or hands and ask God to fill you with His peace.
- Do you doubt God’s promise of peace applies to you? Take a moment to read Isaiah 54:10. God will never remove his promise of peace from us. Then, please write it down on your bathroom mirror for a daily reminder. We have also ordered some magnets to put on your refrigerator for a daily reminder that His peace is always with us.
