Facing a World Without My Daddy

As I was checking out at one of my favorite shops, Homegoods, I could sense a breakdown coming on. I just kept holding in my tears as best as I could but my hands were shaking and I felt exhausted and weak. Why had I come? What was I doing anyway? I mean, it had only been the day before that I was with my daddy when he drew his final breath on this earth. So, what was I thinking driving to Homegoods and trying to look just like any of the other shoppers in there? My world was turned upside down and nothing that store had to offer could help me. I knew it but there I stood. I took some deep breaths and looked into my shopping cart where I had a collection of picture frames. Yes, I needed to purchase some picture frames to put an arrangement of dad’s photos in for his service just a few days away. These crazy moments of life are difficult to rationalize. One of my favorite hobbies, walking around Homegoods even if not making a purchase, aka, “retail therapy” did not help me that day.

You see, just the day before, I had said my final earthly goodbye to my daddy. My first Superman. The man that I had respected more than any other man in my life, at least until I met Ray some 7 years ago. Ironically maybe, my precious daddy departed this world exactly seven years to the day that Ray and I met on the back pew at the Summerdale Church of Christ. So now we will forever share our “friendiversary” date with my dad as the day that he gained his eternal reward. This is a fact that makes me smile even through my many tears. As I write these words, feeling so vulnerable and raw, I also take comfort in knowing, in clearly seeing that this was a huge provision for me from my Heavenly Father who knew long before I could have that I would need a wonderful husband’s support, strength and comfort during this time of extreme loss. Isn’t it amazing the way our Father provides for us in all of our seasons? Even in times of such heartache, we only need to look upward to recognize our real blessings.

Probably my favorite scripture of all time is Jeremiah 29:11 which states “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” I used to frequently read this scripture during my “single mom, raising two boys alone” days. I always found such comfort in these meaningful words. Incredibly, I glean even more from this verse today than a decade ago. God has truly given ME a future and a hope, and although I have recently experienced this painful loss, I cannot turn a blind eye to the absolutely beautiful path that led me here. Our future so frequently does not present in the image we planned, and yet, it is still beautiful. Sometimes we just need to look a little deeper.

If you know me at all, you are well aware that I love my husband to the moon and back. But before Ray, there was always my daddy. He was the constant significant male figure in my life. He taught me many things over the years about guns, boating, buying cars, and, really, just about life. My daddy modeled an honesty and integrity, not perfection, but in consistently doing the right thing. And, interestingly enough, I’ve found that during these last years of loving Ray have been the sweet and sometimes downright funny moments of recognizing traits of my daddy in my husband. It is something that may not have been apparent to others from the outside looking in, but I have pointed them out to Ray over the past five years of our marriage, and I continue to see so many of my favorite things about my dad in Ray. I never expected this bonus nugget of gold, never even asked for it. And the great thing about this is that my daddy gets to live on in those ways, at least in my heart. It is amazing knowing that my Heavenly Father provided for me a daddy on this earth who loved me and raised me to believe in Him, and then, at a time in my life when loneliness was trying to set in, as my boys were getting older and needing me less, He put a loving and kind man of God in my path, a man who would love me every bit as much as my daddy had for so many years, exactly seven years before I would have to say goodbye to my dad on this earth. My dad loved Ray right from the beginning too, they were two peas in a pod, and now Ray gets to remember with me, thanks to having these past seven years, some of the funny moments like my daddy in his housecoat playfully boxing Ray with his fists, giving him advice and gifting him a couple of guns along the way. Dad loved Ray like a son, and my heart is full with the knowledge that Ray still loves my dad.

I feel like I am talking in circles, but I guess what I am trying to say is this: we serve a God who is good and awesome and ever present for us. Do not doubt that fact, no matter what fear is trying to creep inside you. In your hardest, most raw moments, He will not abandon you. He provides everything we need, even though the path may still hurt like crazy.

My Heavenly Father knew that I would need incredible support during these days, support that I had lacked for over a decade while raising my boys alone. Losing my daddy hurt! One night just in the week after he passed, I sat on our couch with tears flowing, telling Ray that I just don’t like it. Not any part of it! I am sad! I miss him. Why do we have to lose the good ones? There are moments when I just cannot imagine that things will ever be okay again without my daddy in this world. No matter the words that I have written here, I still have these moments – frequently. There is just not a way I see this ending well. I do not like thinking of a world without my daddy. There is rarely a church service that I sit through without tears, not to mention the month of November with my birthday on the 6thand daddy’s on the 20th, and then Thanksgiving and Christmas where his seat will be painfully empty this year and each year after. I have no choice, however, but to accept that this is a fact with which I will never be happy or even content.

But, even while sitting in this pain, I reflect on the last two months. In my darkest hours, I am very much aware that God is with me and has been with me all along. After all, He gave us the opportunity to bring my daddy home a few days before he passed from this world. My dad had been battling some serious health issues during his final years, including among other things, serious kidney problems, diabetes, back pain after surgery, and Parkinson’s. In just about the week before he died, dad woke up one morning to just sudden onset confusion and an inability to clearly verbalize his words. I remember answering my mom’s phone call early that Thursday morning, and her giving my dad the telephone. He was able to say “hey Misty,” but then his sounds were just utterings. Even then, we did not fully understand the impact of the coming days. Within hours, dad was in the ER, and subsequently admitted to Thomas Hospital, where despite numerous scans and tests, no answers came. While he was in the hospital, it was reassuring that despite his disorientation, he recognized me every time I was in his room. I was worried, but reminded myself that dad had, over the past few years, typically experienced a kind of “hospital psychosis” while confined to a hospital room for an extended period of time. I believed that his confusion would subside if we could just get him home. And while he was not oriented to time, place and date, he was still very pleasant, which I recognize was a true blessing.

On his last day in the hospital, before being transferred to Eastern Shore Rehab, Ray and I visited with him while mom went out for a much needed lunch break. I’ll never forget our conversation. While dad firmly believed that we were all in Australia, he could recount with detail the time many years ago that he and I had ridden Space Mountain in Disney World together, and how he had said at that time that he would never ride with me again because my constant screams were so ear piercing! He also reminded me of the time when I was interviewed on the local news about my “adoption” of an original Xavier Roberts soft “Cabbage Patch Kids” doll which my mom and dad had purchased for me for Christmas one year from Fantasy Island Toys in downtown Fairhope. I had actually forgotten about that interview. It was neat that, at least in these hours, this part of his memory was completely intact. I now write these details mostly to preserve my own memory of them, as they are moments that I treasure and always want to remember.

While Ray, dad, and I were visiting,  the television in the hospital room was playing the live U.S. Open tennis tournament, because if you know my parents, you know that they watch as much tennis as possible and have for years! I grew up loving some tennis, and enjoying playing with both of my parents. Anyway, in the hospital, my dad kept saying that Ray was playing in that tennis tournament, and that he was doing really well. He noted that Ray had “lost a little weight,” and then daddy said if daddy could get to the court, he would light a firecracker behind Ray the next time Ray was serving and distract him. We were laughing at this, observing that my daddy had not lost his ever present, ever large sense of humor. Additionally, his young pretty nurse came in to start getting him ready to be transferred to Eastern Shore Rehab, and as she was working on him, he asked her where she lived. When she answered “Spanish Fort,” daddy countered that since he lives in Foley, there probably wasn’t much chance of them going on a date. Wide-eyed, I laughed and reminded daddy that he had been married to my mama for 60 years and she probably would not appreciate him going on a date with another lady. Just in case you did not know, my dad had always LOVED my mom big! He laughed and then told us all in detail how he met my mama at the Fairhope Church of Christ 60 plus years ago and how he knew immediately that she was the one he wanted to marry. I do believe it was love at first sight with my parents and they were married 6 months after their initial meeting and had just celebrated 60 years of marriage on July 15 of this year. As daddy told the details of their first meeting, a tear fell from his eye. It was one of the sweetest moments. Until God placed Ray in my life, I had never witnessed another man love and adore his wife the way my daddy loved my mama. They shared a beautiful love. I appreciate so much that I never had to listen to arguing between them in our home. While nothing is absolutely perfect, their love had truly paved a peaceful life together.    

After dad was transferred to the rehab facility, things went downhill pretty quickly. The powers at be there changed some of his medications and simply refused to adequately treat his pain. It was seriously one frustration and obstacle after another. The facility was terribly run down, and the care was pretty pitiful. Long story short, we were finally able to wrangle him out of there, with an ambulance transporting him home on hospice. We knew he was glad to be home though he was not communicating much at all at that point. Ray did see him softly say “home” a couple of times. Fortunately, our experience with hospice was good, and they helped us get medicines to keep him comfortable. He had hurt so much at the rehab facility and they seemed indifferent to how he suffered. The day after he returned to his house, I picked up his new medicines, which thankfully were patches and liquids that he could easily ingest. I learned quickly that administering the medicines would be my job, as mom was understandably very overwhelmed by it all. So, I picked up a notebook and created a system of recording dad’s medication schedule. Strangely enough, it was like this super simple “role” was so therapeutic to me, I cannot even explain. I was blessed with moments that now seem like they passed quickly, but at the time, oddly enough, they seemed long. Does that make any sense? We sat with him and nursed him for minutes which became hours which became days, and at times, it seemed like it was going to go on forever, which was both a blessing and a hardship. I am overwhelmingly thankful for having the opportunity to talk to him and pray for him and love on him over and over again in those last days. I am grateful for being able to thank him and praise him for being such a good dad to me. In similar ways that he once cared for me, I was honored to care for him.

During those final days, I frequently talked to my dad even while he was sleeping. Once I reminded him of the time that he was flying his new radio controlled airplane at a Thanksgiving many years ago with a group of family members watching. My dad had glanced back at us, advising that the one thing you never do when flying a RC plane was take your eyes off of it.  Then he looked back around, and I’m telling you, that airplane was nowhere to be seen! It was gone and apparently lost in the trees for some six months or more. I know that he eventually found parts scattered all around. When I reminded him of this memory while he was sleeping in his last days, although his eyes were closed, my dad actually laughed out loud. I cannot tell you how my heart was touched by this evidence that he was hearing me. I also loved knowing that he had not lost his sense of humor, one of his very best qualities.

On Friday, Dad’s second day at home after rehab, I ran out to pick up a few things recommended to us by the hospice nurse, and when I returned, I walked up to his bed, and said “hey daddy!” To my surprise and great joy, my dad said, “hey Misty.” Although I did not know it then, that would be the very last time that I would hear my dad say my name. At least on this earth. There were a few other instances when we felt a sort of confirmation that dad was hearing us in those final days. On Saturday night, as Mom, Ray, and I were trying our best to adjust dad around in his bed, and believe me when I say we were doing our best but it was like a comedy of errors, Ray told my dad that he was afraid that daddy was getting what he paid for in him. At this, dad, still with closed eyes, laughed out loud. Mom, Ray, and I then proceeded to laugh, and I felt such joy that dad was still hearing us and understanding at least some of what we were saying. When we would talk to him, I could see his eyes moving under his eyelids.

While walking through these hard times, I believed and still believe that he was hearing us and I tried to stay positive. It felt so good to tell him about what a great father he had always been. I told him over and over again how much I loved him. Now, those moments are somewhat soothing to my pain. I told him how much I loved it when he and mom would take us to the park next to Mobile Bay where we would swing on the swing sets. I told him how he bought the best baby dolls. And how much I loved those dolls. And how they made me feel special. I reminded him of how he wore flip-flops before they were cool to TG&Y and how I would go with him because he would let me look at the toys, even though I would about die of embarrassment at the checkout when he, in all his flip-flop glory, would tell the cashier that I was his wife. Every single time. I also reminded him that I do not have a poker face, when my tears would breakthrough and my voice would crack and I would just be talking through the crying. I reminded him of the time when he was only 50 years old and he required emergency open-heart surgery. If he had had the heart attack that he was in the process of having, he would have not survived. Thankfully, the Lord had bigger plans for my dad. And we were blessed to have him 31 extra years. I reminded him of this, however, because when the doctors had hurriedly walked my mom and I to see him before his emergency heart surgery, mama and I had both just lost it and were crying when we should have been going in with some semblance of confidence to offer support to HIM. I often think of what must have been going through his mind when he looked at the two of us just standing there crying our eyes out. I’m sure that it did not give him any assurance in the situation whatsoever and he must’ve thought that his death was imminent!

Losing my daddy was so painful because it was the loss of a beautiful life shared together for so many years. I know that many people do not have that, and I am very grateful for the wonderful memories we made over the years. I am grateful that my little boys had a good man to look up to, even though the parting is now with such sorrow. Oh how I miss hearing him greet me with “Misty baby!” in his bright, upbeat voice the minute he would see me!  

Despite the sorrow, I realize the simultaneous blessing of having the belief that daddy’s last days were peaceful at least in part because I was able to stay on top of giving him the only comfort that I could in administering his pain and anxiety medications. There is real comfort in that, and I recognize that this is a blessing that not everyone gets to experience. On my dad’s last morning, I had played my favorite acapella version of the song “Nearer, Still Nearer” on my phone for him while I was administering his medicine. I wanted to sing to him but was simply physically unable in those last days. Mom needed to run a quick errand that only she could do, and Ray drove to his office at the church. Right after playing the song, I planned to read some of Ecclesiastes to daddy, and walked a few steps away to retrieve his Bible. When I walked back to his bed, I quickly realized that he was no longer with me. I called his name and gently rubbed his chest but I knew that his earthly days were over. His battle was won. I stood there for a minute, looking at him and wondering what he was experiencing and who he was seeing. His mama? Maybe Jesus? Those are moments that I will remember for the rest of my life. I pray that my dad knows just how much he was loved on this earth, and I pray that he could feel it in those last hours.  

Preparing for my daddy’s final farewell service was difficult, but obviously necessary. There was no time to avoid it or just sit and wish it wasn’t happening. It was necessary and imminent. Ray was such a rock for me in those moments, and together we immediately found a way to use the last RC airplane in my dad’s shop as a base for a beautiful sunflower arrangement. We spent fast hours carefully pulling together pictures from the attic, closet, phones, everywhere, and Ray compiled them into a beautiful three song slide show, including “Over the Rainbow” in a nod to the special memory I have of watching “The Wizard of Oz” each year with my dad when I was a child. My sweet boys bravely stood by my side during dad’s service. Brady read some personal words that he had written just a couple of days earlier, and Carter read a portion of the most beautiful love letter that my dad had written to my mom when they were just dating. I appreciated that the boys wanted to participate in his service, and I am sure my dad, their irreplaceable pawpaw, was watching with pride. My daddy’s visitation and service had over 150 people and that did help to soothe my heart. I still feel comfort when someone tells me how they enjoyed my dad’s farewell service or even that the service had made them wish that they had known him better. I’ve been told by longtime friends that they can only imagine that my dad is so missed because he had such a big personality. Words of true comfort. There were so many kind friends and family who supported us, and I do not know what we would have done without them. Friends and family who just appeared and hugged on us, loved on us, prayed for us, sent cards, brought food. People who just cared and chose to show up. All of these things were such comforts.

The greatest comfort of all, however, is that given to me by my Heavenly Father who has never left my side during this time of sorrow. In James 1:2-4, we are told to “count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” I never wanted to experience this huge loss. However, I can understand that this pain is working in little ways to mold me and shape me, perhaps into a person who will be better prepared to offer help to someone struggling with hardship a little ways down the road. I’m also reminded and comforted by the words of Paul in Romans 8:28: “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” Paul’s words of comfort found in Philippians 4:6-7 also fill my heart: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ.” I recognize that it takes more than just merely reading these words. I completely believe these words, but yet, admittedly succumb to my feelings of pain and anxiety over the loss of my daddy. However, I also understand that I need to remain, as best I can, in a state of thanksgiving for the Lord gave me the gift of my daddy, as well as innumerable other blessings during the process of my dad’s passing from this life. While my daily humanity is fragile, I truly recognize the presence of the “peace of God, which surpasses all understanding” and I continue to actively seek that peace in my life every day. For “the Lord’s mercies … are new every morning. Great is [His] faithfulness.”

While this is a very difficult season in my life, I recognize that it may not be the hardest that I will have to endure. After all, life is fragile. This sad loss serves as a reminder that life WILL contain seasons, and although you will experience deep hurts, there is enormous joy to be found as well. Open your eyes to all of it. Ecclesiastes chapter 3:1-8 states:

“To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and A time to die, A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted; A time to kill, And a time to heal; A time to break down, And a time to build up; A time to weep, And a time to laugh; A time to mourn, And a time to dance; A time to cast away stones; And a time to gather stones; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing; A time to gain, And a time to lose; A time to keep, And a time to throw away; A time to tear, And a time to sew; A time to keep silence, And a time to speak; A time to love, And a time to hate; A time of war, And a time of peace.”

It is my hope, prayer and wish for each and every one of you to have a peaceful and thankful ending to year 2025. This year will forever hold a big place in my heart, with all of its hurt and all of its amazing JOY.

Love,

Misty Reynolds

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