Above is a picture from a place that was very dear to my dad. That place is Roanoke Ranch and this is the garden that now honors my dad and the role he played at the ranch. Several years ago God orchestrated the paths of my dad and the founder of Roanoke Ranch, Aaron Decker, to cross. The ranch serves underprivileged children through horses and the beauty of God’s creation. It combined two of my dad’s great loves, children and the outdoors. Most people that knew my dad knew that his garden was a passion of his. So it is fitting that this garden now bears my dad’s name.
Sadly for me and my family, my dad passed away in July. God gave him just over 78 years on this earth and though that is a long time, it still feels like it wasn’t long enough. I expected that we would have him for at least 10 more years but God had other plans.
At the end of June my dad went via ambulance to the hospital where he was admitted. His oxygen levels were extremely low. It was initially thought that it was pneumonia and he was treated as such. But after a couple of days there was no improvement and he was requiring more oxygen. The doctors began to give a very grim prognosis stating that the diagnosis was a flare up of his pulmonary fibrosis. The problem with pulmonary fibrosis is that a flare up causes scarring of the lungs and there is no healing or reversal of that. It was a blow to our family when the doctor told us that if we wanted anybody to see my dad that they should come that day.
But one thing about my dad that the doctors did not factor in is that he is very stubborn. Despite doctor after doctor telling him that his time here on earth was quickly drawing to an end, he refused to believe it. He insisted that God would heal him and he would have more time. God didn’t heal him here on earth but I have no doubt that he is in the presence of Jesus and is not in pain or struggling.
Having walked through almost three years of grief from the death of Ben, I think I expected that my dad’s death would not be so hard. But grief is unpredictable. It is different for every person and with every person whose death we grieve. The relationship with each is unique and so the grief is unique also. I miss my dad. I miss the texts from him asking if I was going grocery shopping soon. I miss his phone calls that sometimes were much longer than I wished. I miss his wisdom. I miss having a godly man in my life.
When a grieving person experiences the loss of another loved one it is commonly considered compounded grief. Or as I call it, grief upon grief. The grief is compounded greatly when the losses occur in a short time span before the griever has had time to process the grief from the first loss. Thankfully I had almost three years between deaths. In some ways that makes it easier but it doesn’t take away the grief or the pain of the loss.
In the almost three years between Ben’s death and my dad’s death, I had come to rely on my dad as someone I could talk to about the things of life. I miss that. So many times in the last six months I have thought that I need to talk to my dad or make sure he knows about something that happened. I would have talked to him about Sabin kicking for the high school football team, the election, the Tigers, the Lions and so many other things. I think no longer being able to talk with and to someone is one of the hardest parts of grief. Especially when you have lost the two men in your life that you would have talked to about things.
For the Love of Ben 