THINKING OF YOU, DADDY...from Becky Sue

Life has changed a lot for me since my beloved Father passed away a little over three years ago.  Even though my memory of him is as lovely as ever, I've never really reconciled myself with his passing.  I've been able to accept his death...just not the circumstances surrounding it.

And I doubt I ever will.

As an adult I remained extremely close to my Dad and watching his mind fade into some dark and unknown place was very, very difficult.  He lingered so long between reality and fractured remembrances of his younger self that when death finally came I understood it to be the greatest show of mercy God could bestow upon him.

And me.

Not long ago my mother, sister and I went through some of my Father's belongings that had been stored away for over a decade.  Most of the hundreds of boxes held books...but some held keepsakes that obviously were very dear to my Dad and there were a handful of photos as well.  Some I hadn't seen since I was a young child...some I had never seen.  Even though it was a task that had to be done, I couldn't help but feel I was invading his personal space.

 

I wondered if he was looking down upon the three of us while we worked or if he was busy doing other things...

You know, things like sitting in the presence of the God...walking the streets of gold while taking in the heavenly scenery...chatting with those who had gone on before him.

I didn't know.

 

My Dad was a very complex and private person and even sometimes secretive.  I hated being inside that storage unit and as each box was opened I came face to face with telltale signs of the mental illness that was beginning to steal away the Father I had known and loved for all my life. 

 

Obsessive and compulsive behavior could be seen at every turn.

Lists and more lists...and then even more lists.

Each box carefully tagged with excessive ramblings and taped closed as if golden nuggets were safely tucked inside.

My Father.  Complicated and mysterious as times.  And one of the two greatest men I've ever known.

 

Today, as I think about my Father, I'm buoyed by the legacy of  hope that remained within his heart until the day of his passing.  His unwavering faith in God and his steadfast belief that somehow, someday, I'd get things right.  That eventually I'd find a way to live my life to the fullest while being content with the simplest of blessings~

Like the first violet blooms of spring...

The seemingly endless heat from a summer's day...

The quiet rustle of autumn leaves...

Or winter's coldest breath...

 You know, just regular old days that are so easy to ignore.

Life.  We have only one.

I'm trying my best to live mine out in truth and I hope, pray my Father would be proud.

Thank you, Daddy, for helping to plant my feet upon the Solid Rock.

I love you.

I miss you.

~*~

Blessings~

Rebecca

~A NOTE of THANKS...TRIBUTE VIDEO~

Dear Friends...

This morning the last of my family members pulled out of Oklahoma and headed back towards their homes.  With my father's sudden decline and ultimate death the last three weeks have been a whirlwind of activity.  I'm personally sustained by the memories I hold dear and for the legacy of love and forgiveness that was so much a part of my dad's life.

Today would have been his 84th birthday.

I can't begin to thank you all for your kindness to my family.  The cards, letters, notes, food, flowers, visits and prayers reached beyond the pale.  I haven't had to cook a single meal since my father became ill because of the loving kindness of others.  In addition, with the unbelievable benevolent help from my son's employer we were able to feed my dad's entire extended family who traveled up to Oklahoma from Texas.  Catered meals poured in via McAlister's Deli and I'm beyond humbled by their generosity and goodness.  At one sitting I had over 30 people in my home and I didn't have to prepare a single thing.  Everything was provided...down to the utensils and straws.  They did this three separate times, each time being better than the last.

I'm learning a great deal about paying it forward as I continue to grieve the loss of my father.  I hope one day I will be afforded the chance to do unto others as was done unto me.

God has been so good.

I'm sure in the future months I'll share more about the long goodbye that took more than a decade to unfold.  Right now I'd like to share with you the incredible video tribute my son, Brandon Kent, prepared in honor of his grandfather.  It's full of lovely pictures, some we had never seen, and beautiful music.  I hope you love it.

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06Y4mxKsduk

Blessings to you today.  Your continued prayers for my Mother are so greatly appreciated.

Love to you...

~MEMORIAL SERVICE~

Thank you all for your kindness to my family as we grieve the loss of our beloved father.  As I shared with you a few days ago, he passed away on February 20, 2014.

The Memorial Service for Rev. William Edgar Elliott will be this Thursday, February 27, 2014 at Lake Overholser Church of the Nazarene in Bethany, Oklahoma, at 10:30AM.  Flowers can be sent to the church and notes of condolence can be mailed to my home address:

ELLIOTT FAMILY

c/o Nelson

1400 Briarwood Drive

Edmond, OK  73034

Thank you again for the outpouring of love and compassion.  It means so much to my family and I.  I hope someday to repay you.

Love,

~FIRST DAY IN HEAVEN~

William Edgar Elliott

March 4, 1930 - February 20, 2014

My beloved father went home to be with Jesus early yesterday evening after more than a decade long battle with dementia.  Although our hearts are broken, we rejoice he is now in heaven encircled by those who have passed on before him and the God he has loved so much.

To those of you who have shared in my heartbreak over the years, read my writings, sent notes, left comments, made visits, etc., I can't begin to thank you.  Your kindness to me and my family has helped forged friendships that will last a lifetime.

Please pray for us as we plan the going-home-celebration of my daddy's life.  It is our hope and deepest desire to make him proud.

Love,

~HOSPICE~

Over five years have passed since I first began sharing with you stories of my beloved father...  As a preacher-man, I was blessed to live with an amazing man, one whom I love and will always adore.  Forever and always he will be only one thing.

My Daddy.

The journey of my father's life with dementia and the accompanying twelve year long goodbye is about to come to an end.  My father is in his last days of life and HOSPICE was called in today to assist our family.

We are praying for a gentle, pain free passing.

The picture above was taken by my mother in 1956.  My father was 26 years old at the time, a bit cocky and crazy-handsome.   She told me this evening that this is how she still sees him in her heart.  He would have been 84 on March 4th.

Please pray for Mom.  Today was a difficult day for her and the choices she had to make just broke her heart.

Mine, too.

Thank you for your kindness and for lifting us up to the Father.  His grace and peace are covering us and we are sustained by His love.

Love,

 

~PEACE THIS VALENTINE'S DAY~

Celebrating LOVE today in it's purest form.

I hope your day is wonderful and filled with hugs, kisses and lots of love and affection.

Yesterday was a tough day visiting my beloved father in ICU.  He's hooked up to machines and he remains unresponsive.

  (Thank you to those of you who stopped by yesterday and for your kindness and prayers towards my family.)

My heart is broken.

I was hoping my dad would wake up so I could see his beautiful eyes again and he could see my children as they stood by my side...

He'd be so proud of them and the amazing human beings they've become.

Before we left for the evening we all held hands and I prayed over the man who did the same for me so many times.  My mind raced back to the time when I was four and in the hospital with some blood disorder.  He was my rock.  He was strong.  He was my hero.

I remember the sound of his deep melodic voice and the prayers he prayed over me as I cried in his arms and begged to go home.

If I could have crawled up onto the hospital bed and laid beside my father I would have.  Instead, I held his right hand and kissed his lips and white whiskery cheeks.  I breathed in long and slow before asking God to show mercy upon His humble servant, William, and bring peace to his long suffering mind and body...

Peace.
In whatever form God sees best to send it.

For as long as I live I will miss the tiny box of chocolates my father left for me each and every Valentine's Day morning and the little "I LOVE YOU" cards scribbled out in his distinctive hand.  Although not without flaw, he will always be perfectly imperfect in my eyes and I will forever remain a blessed daughter.

Blessings as you remember that

LOVE NEVER FAILS.

(I Corinthians 13:8 NIV)...

Love to you~

~MY FATHER~

My son, Brandon, and I are on our way to Mercy Hospital in Oklahoma City to see my father.

I would so appreciate it if you will pray for my mother, my siblings, our entire family... He's currently in ICU.

 

Over the past five plus years I've shared often about my beloved dad and his great love for God and family.  He's been a preacher-man for my entire life and I can't help but wonder if the time is drawing near when he will collect his reward for his faithful service to the Most High.  For over a decade he's been living incarcerated in a local nursing home.  He's been ready to meet His Savior for so long now...

Thank you in advance for your kindness and prayers.  They mean so much to me.

Love,

~TIME TO SAY GOODBYE~

Early this morning my beloved Mr. AGPMan's Father, Raymond E. Nelson, passed away.  I would sooo greatly appreciate your prayers as we say goodbye to our loving Father, Husband, Grandpa and friend.  He will be greatly missed by all of us...especially by Steve's mother.  They were married for over sixty years and I'm sure she will have some challenging days ahead.

You can read more about Steve's father HERE.

  My hubby's father honorably served in the US Army and was awarded a Purple Heart for Bravery after being severely wounded during the Korean Conflict/War.  He was blinded in one eye and suffered a traumatic head injury and yet lived to be almost 85 years old.

God is good.

Raymond was a dearly loved husband to Doris and loving Father to my husband, Steven Kent...

Adoring Grandfather to Brandon Kent...

And to Adrienne Rachelle....

 We hold many precious memories inside our hearts of him...

 Seems like yesterday he was a giddy Grampa to our two beautiful (and young!) children.

He helped us celebrate in the best of times...

 And loved me from day one.

He left us far too soon...

Today was his first day in heaven!

We rejoice in his home-going!

Thank you for your prayers during these tough times.

Blessings to you for a wonderful New Year.  This was a truly challenging year for us and we are looking forward to a fresh beginning.

Love to you all...

~A MEMOIR'~

If you've followed my blog for very long or read my profile on my sidebar then you know I'm the daughter of a preacher-man.  For as long as I can remember my father was a student of the Word and because of his ministry I was exposed to many amazing things during my childhood.  As a young girl I didn't fully understand the impact some of those early life-lessons would have upon my life, or years later just how they would affect me as I grew into adulthood.

Sunday was always a busy day at our home.  We were up early and rarely missed church.  We had to be on our death-bed or at the very least laden with a high fever to get out of going.  I tried faking being sick a few times,  but I was always busted.  After morning services ended as a family we returned home for lunch. Rarely was dining out an option as my father's meager income couldn't afford the luxury of a restaurant meal.  By early afternoon my brother Bill and I, along with our father, piled back into our ratty-trap car (I know this because ALL the cars we ever owned were junkers!) and drove about ten miles to a convalescent home to minister to the aged and afflicted.  We did this three Sundays out of four each month until we were in our early teens...

I suppose it's important to tell you here that although I willingly went with my father to these services sometimes most times I didn't want to go.  Although my dad never forced me to go with him,  I just could never actually bring myself to tell him I wanted to stay home.  Instead of singing to a bunch of old people, who were either out of their minds or sleeping, I just want to run and play outside with my friends.

 On most of our trips to the nursing home my brother would pass out hymnals and I would almost always sing and play my guitar.  It was in these simple, unsophisticated meetings I learned what it meant to have a compassionate heart for the sick and infirmed.  It would take another three decades before I would come to appreciate the experience and today I hold the memory of our convalescent services as one of my best.  I'm so glad I didn't stay home.

When the nursing home service concluded Bill and I knew our father would treat us both to something special.  It was never much...a small ice-cream float at the local A&W or a bottle of pop from Market Basket.  Sometimes he'd buy us a tiny box of candy, but usually it was a sweet, fizzy concoction of our own choosing.  Together we would open the cooler's lid and pull out whatever soda fit our fancy on that day.  Bill never picked the same thing twice and my dad, if he could afford three bottles, always drank Dr. Pepper...

But for me, being the kind of thinker I am, I had the picking out of my soda down to an art.  My logic was simple.  I would simply pick the biggest bottle of pop for the least amount of money...  And without a doubt it was always BUBBLE-UP.   Most soda pop bottles back then were 12oz or 16oz...but not Bubble-Up!  It held a whopping 18oz (which was alotta pop back then!) and I promise you I savored ever tiny drop.

I rarely (if ever) drink soda anymore...  But while on our mini vacation over Thanksgiving I visited a small store out west and sitting right in front of me was a four pack of Bubble-Up.  My heart skipped a beat and I instantly was transported back to the age of ten.  It was as if the last 40 years had never passed for I could feel myself standing along side my father and brother with my trusty icy cold, lemon-lime drink in hand.

What I understand today is that those bottles of pop often took my father's last few coins.

He gave us all he had and we didn't even realize it.

As I type this my only brother and his wife are driving from Southern Cali to Oklahoma (20 plus hour trip) to be here to watch my beloved, my Mr. AGPMan, receive his college diploma.  As a family we will celebrate with joy!

 While here we will also travel down to the nursing home where our father still resides for a long overdue visit.  I'll take my guitar and my brother will take his and together we will sing and play for a special aged and infirmed man, just like we did as children...

And just in case we get thirsty I'll have three bottles of soda in my satchel...

An Orange Crush for Bill.

Dr. Pepper for my Daddy.

And Bubble-Up for me.

Blessings as the memories help carry you through...

Love to you~

~MOMENTS TO SAVOR~

Yesterday my husband and I drove into Oklahoma City to visit my father.  He is now incarcerated in a new, yet old, nursing center.  I say that because he is back at the facility he first called "home" over ten years ago.  I was so happy when he left that wretched place and was sad when I found out he was returning.  As we drove along the highway I longed for the days when my father was well.  I ran to him for so many things during my childhood and early years of marriage and even now I miss his strength and wisdom.  Mentally he's been away for so long and when I needed him this past week he, well...couldn't be there.

I called out to him from deep inside my heart.  I begged for him to remember me.

But I knew he wouldn't.

The monster I've grown to hate has lived inside his head for too long.

 As my husband, Steven, and I walked down the sidewalk that led to the back entry door into the nursing home I felt him grab my hand for a bit of reassurance.  I was thankful he was with me as his busy schedule with school and work allows for little down time.  Once inside he kept in step with me until we turned and entered my father's room.

I 've decided I'm never going to get use to seeing my father in a wheelchair.  He's suppose to be up walking around with a mug of hot sugared coffee in his hand or sitting behind his desk writing his next Sunday sermon.  Or just maybe he'd be off penning a new poem or two about nature...or God.  Certainly not this.  Not living in this tiny room with gloomy grey walls with a roommate, a man I've never met before, sleeping the remainder of his life away upon the bed nearest the door.

I'm thinking this might be hell...

(or a form of it anyway!)

 I've watched my father fade away before my eyes for over a decade now and his slow exit from this earth seems so undignified and sometimes it's unbearable to watch.  He's not at all the strong man I remember him being and this day I couldn't hold back the tears.

I sat down next to my sleeping father and laced my fingers tightly within his.  He stirred and opened his eyes only long enough to focus upon my hubby standing next to me and to call out his name, Steve.  (Strange how he has always known him.)  Then he looked at me, squinted a bit, and said only this...

"Hello, daughter.

I love you, Becky Sue".

Then he closed his eyes and returned to wherever he had been.

 

"Come back to me" was all my heart was feeling.

On the drive back home I was reminded of something my father use to say during the many times I came to him as a girl whining and complaining about some little unfair thing in my life.  He would always smile, pat my hand and then encourage me to remember that I was never alone and that God's presence would be with me as I weathered my latest, greatest storm.  He'd tell me to stay strong and hold onto my faith because the waves of doubt and disbelief were coming and one day they would threaten to toss the ship of my life into the rocks if I wasn't careful...

"When outward strength is broken, faith rests on the promises.  In the midst of sorrow, faith draws the sting out of every trouble, and takes out the bitterness from every affliction."

 Robert Cecil

Thank you, Daddy, for the wise teachings from my childhood.

You knew one day I'd depend on your wisdom to help me make it to the other shore.  I love you and miss you...

Blessings today as you seek His face.

Love to you...