Trying to make some sense of Dad’s death
One year ago today, my Dad died. In July of 2009, he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Five months later, he was gone. Like countless others who have lost loved ones, I’ve struggled with the question of “why.” And like those countless others, I really don’t have an answer.
I’m a Christian, as was my Dad. It is within the framework of that Faith, then, that I’ve wrestled with the question. Of the various possibilities, the one I like to think is probably the right one, is that this was my Dad’s last act of faith and obedience. My family has gone to church as long as I can remember. Twenty to twenty-five years ago, though, as I remember things, we started getting more and more involved in our local church. Dad volunteered for one thing after another, taking his service to the local body very seriously. In fact, as he became sicker due to the scourge that eventually claimed his life, he lamented missing church, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Though not formally a deacon (which, in Greek, means ‘servant’), he was a servant of the church nonetheless. He loved its people, and he loved its Lord.
Ultimately, though, the road each of us walks comes to an end. For some, it’s at a ripe old age, where time has taken its toll on our bodies, which eventually give out. For others, that end is much earlier. This was the case for my Dad. It’s quite possible, and, again, I think probable, that the Lord, for reasons we don’t understand, decided to let this awful thing we call cancer touch my Dad’s body as one final test, either of him or for us. As Christians, we contend that, once we accept the gift of salvation, the rest of our lives are spent trying to become more and more Christ-like. Life’s trials are often the tools the Lord uses to affect that change. It may be that this was one last stroke of the chisel, once last brush with the polishing cloth, that my Dad needed before he was ready.
It might be, also, that the Lord used my Dad’s disease and death, as an example of what Christian faith looks like. Perhaps it wasn’t a test, but Dad’s last mission, his last act of service in life; to demonstrate true faith and the peace and grace it brings as he passed on to his reward.
In truth, we’ll never really know. Not in this life. To be honest, I really wish it didn’t have to be this way. I miss him terribly, and probably always will. Despite that, though, I have never been angry with God for allowing this to happen. I don’t understand why it had to, but I trust The One who let it. And perhaps that was the point, at least in part: to test my faith. To inch me toward the perfection in Christ that will someday be mine. I’ll know for sure someday. My hope and prayer is that someday I’ll hear the Lord tell me, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And as Jesus says those precious words to me, I can’t help but picture my Dad standing there amongst the throng of redeemed, whole and healthy and perfect, flashing that proud, happy smile of his I long to see again. I may understand it all then, but it won’t matter, I think. I’ll be with my Dad again. And like him, I’ll finally be Home.
Dad was a big believer in being self-sufficient. I don’t recall ever getting a “speech” from him on the topic, but his life exuded it. He often talked about how he had to fix his own cars from the time he was (almost 😉 old enough to drive. He was constantly working on TVs, VCRs, microwave ovens, cars, air conditioners, etc. to fix them himself. While I don’t have the know-how to fix things like he did, I can see in myself that same determination to do what I can for me and my family. 
During all of this reflection, it was interesting to see, consciously, the effects my Dad has had on me over the years. His attitudes, his beliefs, and, much to the chagrin of wife, even his sense of humor can be seen in me in one form or another. In that way, the old cliche that he lives on in us is, indeed, true.