Loving Like He Was…

We’ve heard the adage we should live like we are dying. Life is short. Take the Trip. Buy the Shoes. Eat the cake. Live as if every day is our last.

But what if we take the focus from ourselves and live and love as if others are dying? How much slower would we be to anger? How easily would we forgive? How much more mercy and grace would we be capable of granting? Would we hold back on “I love you”? Would we cling to that grudge as if it were more important than a person? How much less irritated would we get? Would we leave anything unsaid or unresolved?

My father died on July 10 at 7:28 pm. The odds of dying during a heart catheterization are 0.05% We weren’t expecting that to be the way he would leave us.

He was eighty-one and growing frailer though his mind was still sharp. Still, something in me knew we might be approaching our season of lasts.

I told my husband on Father’s Day I wanted to make a big deal for my dad. I spoke the words, “What if this is my last Father’s day with him?” So we had the finest meat and all sat down at the dinner table together to celebrate. I said the blessing before the meal and, choked up with tears of gratitude, thanked God for giving my dad to me. I thanked Him for the blessing of having such an amazing dad. I asked for strength and health for him in the years to come. My dad got to hear my intimate prayer of gratitude for him.

I took my dad to doctor’s appointments and grocery shopping. I slowed down and paused when he had something to say whether I found it interesting or not. Merely the fact that he wanted to share was enough to pay attention. I hugged him more often. I always told my dad I love him with great frequency, yet it increased. I approached each day as it was, a gift. And in the recesses of my heart I knew the days would be no more. I just didn’t expect it so soon. When a beloved parent dies it always feel so soon.

I cherished the time we had not because I was living like I was dying; I was loving like he was.