Friday / October 30 / 2020
Early first signs of winter are upon us here in Boston and the conflicting beauty goes hand in hand with my Daddy being in hospice. I know he will be in the presence of our God once he transitions from this life and yet, I wrestle with being Daddy’s Little Girl without having my Daddy.
The conflicting beauty I see in God’s tapestry is bright, vibrant foliage and blooms now covered with the magic of fresh fallen snow. How do they live side by side so harmoniously? Especially when it came so much earlier than they were expecting. Such a story they tell about tolerance, acceptance, rolling with the punches, and the profound beauty of living in the moment.
I have so much more to learn about living in the moment and being grateful. Our entire yard is like watching God paint, create, and smile. His mercies are new every morning and I’m thankful He grants us fresh eyes to see the beauty in the unexpected or, dare I say, what seems premature or ‘doesn’t seem right’.
Simply because it doesn’t make logical sense to me, I know His ways are greater and good and best – both in nature and with my beloved Daddy. I trust Him implicitly.
Just two nights ago, my Dad was admitted to hospice after battling heart failure for the past six months. His heart, kidneys, and liver are all failing and there’s nothing more they can do to help him medically, other than to help make him as comfortable as possible.
There is so much silver lining and I am grateful for the gift of my Dad
* the times he & I arose before the sun in the 1970s to share cereal out of individual serving boxes on the balcony of The Thunderbird Motel in Virginia Beach as Mom and Mark slept (I always got to pick the most sugary because I was up first, afterall!)
* the reassuring times he brushed the tears from my cheeks and told me everything was going to be okay (and I believed him)
* how he pushed me and challenged me to lean into my highest and greatest good, particularly when I didn’t believe I was capable or good enough
* his larger than life laugh and presence and the way he taught me to love shenanigans as much as he does
* the songs he simply cannot leave unsung if you start just the right one (i.e. for my family: “The snow lay on the ground….“!)
* the way he came to life two months ago when I cranked up a Beach Boys CD as Mom & I drove him to have his aortic valve replacement surgery. Tapping his toes, swaying to the music, singing most of the words. Silent tears of gratitude fell down my cheeks as Mom & I sang along with him, relishing every morsel.
My Momma is an angel, who has been with him every step of the way. They were high school sweethearts and have lived life together for more than six decades. Amidst all of this, our whole family has grown so much closer to each other with a bond that cannot be severed.
As early as this morning, Daddy’s decline is evident. Death is the one thing we’re certain awaits, no matter our beliefs, upbringing, health habits, or how ‘good’ we’ve been. It’s unavoidable. Mandatory, if you will. And yet, that doesn’t make it any easier, right?
As our family processes through this, we remain beyond grateful for the incredible outpouring of kindness, love, prayers, and thoughtfulness from all of you.
Our hearts are hurting but full.
We take comfort in knowing God loves those we love well beyond what any of us could ever comprehend. Certainly, we’re not the only ones facing challenging times. We hope you will take comfort in knowing that is true for you and your family, too.
If you’re so inclined, please share a comment and/or a memory you have of my Dad, Don Racette and perhaps, how he impacted your life. PLEASE SHARE YOUR COMMENT DIRECTLY HERE ON THIS BLOG (rather than on social media) so it will live on forever here in one place. THANK YOU! We love, appreciate, and respect each one of you and send God’s greatest love and blessings to you.