Up until February of 2009, I had managed to stay away from my dad. The thought of my dad filled me with anger. I felt like he ruined my teenage years, forced me to grow up faster than a kid should, and he constantly put guilt on me. I had un-officially cut off ties with my dad not too long after high school graduation, the summer of 2002. But we would try and talk off and on various times scattered throughout the years between 2002-2009. Each time it was still apparent that not only was dad still addicted to alcohol, but rumors were he was adding pills and God only knows what other illegal drugs to mix. And to refresh memories...my dad was still putting this deadly combination of drugs and alcohol down his feeding tube. Each time he reached out to me in those years, it always came down to: he needed a ride somewhere or he needed money. It's so hard to see your dad killing himself, but at the same time so desperate for a ride or money. I didn't want to help him. But like so many families around the world...the guilt got to me and I would help enable his addiction. I'd give him some money, just to shut him up. It hurt to do it and I hated doing it. But what else could I do? Each time we reconnected it ended in an fight.
My dad used to joke he was like a cat...having 9 lives. Nothing could kill him. Cancer couldn't kill him. And at one point my dad was hospitalized after ingesting so much alcohol that he nearly put himself into a coma. The doctors were amazing he was even alive, his blood-alcohol level was so high. He promised to stop drinking. But the promise didn't last long. A few years after that incident, my dad got into a fight while drunk. A man he barely knew stabbed in multiple times and left him for dead on the side of the road. None of the stab wounds hit his heart but his lungs were pierced numerous times. I went to the hospital to visit him. Knowing my dad almost died was a gut-check. Once again, he seemed as if this event had convinced him to get his life back on track. But like always, he fell back into drugs and alcohol. Being homeless and not going for regular check-ups would prove to be the death of him. He should have been going to doctors to follow up with his past cancer battle and the stabbing incident. The lung wounds would eventually lead to respiratory problems...like infection.
In Feb. 2009, I got a phone call saying my dad was in the hospital and things didn't look good. Apparently he had been admitted for nearly a month before us kids ever knew it. With bad lungs, a cold turned into pneumonia. I'm still not sure of all details. But I got a sense he wasn't doing well. The first time I saw my dad this go-round in the hospital, I knew something was wrong. He looked horrible, worse than previous hospital stays. Hooked up to breathing machines and tubes. Infection had filled his body. Gangrene had set into his hand and arm. His hand was completely dead, and black. I had never seen anything like it. The grossest thing I'd ever seen. Even if he beat pneumonia, his hand would be amputated. All I could think about was, how would he feed himself through his feeding tube with one hand? When I first saw him that day, it had been at least a year or more since we talked. But seeing his condition made me quickly forget about our past. It broke my heart.
Since the last time I had seen or talked to my dad, a lot had happened in that couple years. I got married (he wasn't invited to the wedding), and I had battled my own addiction. December 2007 was the last time I watched or have seen any pornographic images! (mini celebration, as of today, it's been 4 yrs and 4 mths!). Like I said before, after that last battle of wills Heather and I had, I was serious about never watching porn again. But that makes it sound as if it was easy. It was not. Every single day for at least a couple months, I struggled with not giving into the temptation. We went to great lengths to make sure I was "being good." Internet/data option on our cell phones was eliminated. At the time we didn't have a home computer, and with my old addiction, we put off getting one for quite awhile. I had to first earn Heather's trust again.
The following spring (2008), we moved to south Charlotte. To be closer to work and family. Heather's dad and step-mom invited us to their church, for married couples Sunday school. I was against it. What we were going through got Heather interested. I didn't like the idea of going to church. I didn't need to reminded of how bad of a husband and person I was. That's what church was, right?, I thought. Boy was I wrong. The other problem I had with going to church was, it was a Church of God. They get loud and believe weird things, I thought. Once again...I was wrong. I was assured we would only go to the Sunday school and that the current series was funny and entertaining. So I was convinced to go, half-heartedly.
The series we were about to dive into was titled "Laugh Your Way to a Better Marriage." I love comedy, so I figured how bad could this be? Not only was it NOT bad, it was amazing! I won't go into details, but if you're married...or about to me married...or a young person who will eventually get married...you need to watch it. It's a long series. It took a couple months I think to get through it, but it was well worth it. I'm like an onion, in the sense that I need to be convinced in layers. Taught in layers. And I need someone to peel back my layers to get to my heart. The DVD series did just that. Week after week I was learning to communicate with my wife in a way we had never experienced. And the series actually dived into lust and pornography a little. Opening my eyes to a different perspective. Over the course of the study, I made the connection that I may have stopped watch pornography for Heather's sake. But the only way I could maintain my new freedom from pornography, or have true victory over it, was through the resurrecting power of Jesus Christ. Now at this point, I still wasn't on board with the idea of being "saved" or "giving my life to Christ" but God had began removing the layers of my callused heart to reveal himself to me, just a little bit at a time. I was "learning" about Jesus, but not yet ready to embrace Him fully. We stayed a part of this married couple school class for over a year. But only going into the actually church service once (maybe twice). I just needed more convincing....or conviction.
Back to my dad. That first time I visited him and saw his poor condition I was so heart-broken. He looked awful and could just barely get words out of his mouth. He was alert but couldn't form complete sentences. Not because of his mind, but because of his physical voice being gone. He could write in a notebook to express himself, but you could tell it made him impatient and aggravated. He was always an impatient man. Quick to lose his temper. So under these conditions, it was magnified. Even as he laid there dying, he was agitated and filled with anger. But their were moments when I could tell him, "I love you Dad", and he would relax and just be thankful we were in each others company. I think he knew he wasn't gonna survive this time. His 9 lives were up. But at the time, I was convinced he would get through this, as always. I would go and check up on him every few days. Each visit was like a roller coaster ride. One day, he was doing better...next visit, he was worse. At one point doctors believed he would fully recover. But then his condition starting going down hill. It always seems that way...when things get too good, it's inevitable things will get bad soon. It came a point where through my "learning" about God, I realized my dad needed prayer. I didn't have it in me to pray for him (although I did privately) because I wasn't even fully convinced I needed a Savior. So I got my father-in-law to come to the hospital and pray for him. To give him the opportunity to accept Jesus, even though I had yet to do so myself. My dad couldn't speak at all by this visit. But my father-in-law came in and asked him to say the prayer in his heart to himself, since he could not say it out loud. I can't remember the exact words of the prayer...but it was a sinner's prayer, that asked for forgiveness and offered a moment for my dad to accept Jesus Christ. After the prayer, we all opened our eyes and my dad was able to give us a "thumbs up" sign with a smile. I was overcome with joy. Since no actual words came from his mouth, I and everyone assumed it meant he said the prayer to himself (and to God) and meant every word. I, myself, still wasn't convinced that there was a Heaven and Hell, but I thought that IF their was...My dad would be in Heaven soon. The days following that visit seem like a blur in comparison. On March 12, 2009 we got the call that my dad had passed. I never thought I'd lose my dad at the age of 25. I always assumed we'd have plenty of time to repair our broken relationship. For so many days, weeks and years before his passing, all I could think about was how he did me wrong, hurt me, let me down and ruined my life. But since the day of his death, all I could remember was the good times. The times when we laughed. Times he taught me things I needed to know as a man. Just the good times, is all I could remember. And even in the lowest part of his life....I never questioned his love for me and my sisters and my brother. He was just a sick person, suffering through an addiction that killed him. I still think about his last days all the time. Praying that my dad knew exactly what was going on when he said that last prayer and knowing what he was praying and hoped that he meant every word. Sometimes I wonder, what if he didn't mean it, what if he didn't believe it.....what if....what if...But what if he did believe, what if he did mean every word...If so, my dad is in Heaven right now! :-). I hope he is proud of the man he helped mold (in good ways and bad ways) me into, and now that responsibility has been handed over to my new Father. Amen!
Not only did my dad's passing have profound impact on my life, but it had a convicting impact of my wife! She had witnessed death and she couldn't help think about her own eternity. After my dad's passing, Heather began to make subtle changes in her life. Never pushing those changes on me...but oh, how I would notice them. Her car radio was playing Christian music now. She never had a really foul mouth or bad language, but she cleaned her words up. Stopped cursing completely. And started realizing we needed a "home church." She was convicted about us going to Sunday school at a church for over year, but never committing to the church. Never going to a church service. Just enjoying the benefits of our ever improving marriage, but never embracing the idea being a part of a church. But I still wasn't quite ready for such a leap...
My dad used to joke he was like a cat...having 9 lives. Nothing could kill him. Cancer couldn't kill him. And at one point my dad was hospitalized after ingesting so much alcohol that he nearly put himself into a coma. The doctors were amazing he was even alive, his blood-alcohol level was so high. He promised to stop drinking. But the promise didn't last long. A few years after that incident, my dad got into a fight while drunk. A man he barely knew stabbed in multiple times and left him for dead on the side of the road. None of the stab wounds hit his heart but his lungs were pierced numerous times. I went to the hospital to visit him. Knowing my dad almost died was a gut-check. Once again, he seemed as if this event had convinced him to get his life back on track. But like always, he fell back into drugs and alcohol. Being homeless and not going for regular check-ups would prove to be the death of him. He should have been going to doctors to follow up with his past cancer battle and the stabbing incident. The lung wounds would eventually lead to respiratory problems...like infection.
In Feb. 2009, I got a phone call saying my dad was in the hospital and things didn't look good. Apparently he had been admitted for nearly a month before us kids ever knew it. With bad lungs, a cold turned into pneumonia. I'm still not sure of all details. But I got a sense he wasn't doing well. The first time I saw my dad this go-round in the hospital, I knew something was wrong. He looked horrible, worse than previous hospital stays. Hooked up to breathing machines and tubes. Infection had filled his body. Gangrene had set into his hand and arm. His hand was completely dead, and black. I had never seen anything like it. The grossest thing I'd ever seen. Even if he beat pneumonia, his hand would be amputated. All I could think about was, how would he feed himself through his feeding tube with one hand? When I first saw him that day, it had been at least a year or more since we talked. But seeing his condition made me quickly forget about our past. It broke my heart.
Since the last time I had seen or talked to my dad, a lot had happened in that couple years. I got married (he wasn't invited to the wedding), and I had battled my own addiction. December 2007 was the last time I watched or have seen any pornographic images! (mini celebration, as of today, it's been 4 yrs and 4 mths!). Like I said before, after that last battle of wills Heather and I had, I was serious about never watching porn again. But that makes it sound as if it was easy. It was not. Every single day for at least a couple months, I struggled with not giving into the temptation. We went to great lengths to make sure I was "being good." Internet/data option on our cell phones was eliminated. At the time we didn't have a home computer, and with my old addiction, we put off getting one for quite awhile. I had to first earn Heather's trust again.
The following spring (2008), we moved to south Charlotte. To be closer to work and family. Heather's dad and step-mom invited us to their church, for married couples Sunday school. I was against it. What we were going through got Heather interested. I didn't like the idea of going to church. I didn't need to reminded of how bad of a husband and person I was. That's what church was, right?, I thought. Boy was I wrong. The other problem I had with going to church was, it was a Church of God. They get loud and believe weird things, I thought. Once again...I was wrong. I was assured we would only go to the Sunday school and that the current series was funny and entertaining. So I was convinced to go, half-heartedly.
The series we were about to dive into was titled "Laugh Your Way to a Better Marriage." I love comedy, so I figured how bad could this be? Not only was it NOT bad, it was amazing! I won't go into details, but if you're married...or about to me married...or a young person who will eventually get married...you need to watch it. It's a long series. It took a couple months I think to get through it, but it was well worth it. I'm like an onion, in the sense that I need to be convinced in layers. Taught in layers. And I need someone to peel back my layers to get to my heart. The DVD series did just that. Week after week I was learning to communicate with my wife in a way we had never experienced. And the series actually dived into lust and pornography a little. Opening my eyes to a different perspective. Over the course of the study, I made the connection that I may have stopped watch pornography for Heather's sake. But the only way I could maintain my new freedom from pornography, or have true victory over it, was through the resurrecting power of Jesus Christ. Now at this point, I still wasn't on board with the idea of being "saved" or "giving my life to Christ" but God had began removing the layers of my callused heart to reveal himself to me, just a little bit at a time. I was "learning" about Jesus, but not yet ready to embrace Him fully. We stayed a part of this married couple school class for over a year. But only going into the actually church service once (maybe twice). I just needed more convincing....or conviction.
Back to my dad. That first time I visited him and saw his poor condition I was so heart-broken. He looked awful and could just barely get words out of his mouth. He was alert but couldn't form complete sentences. Not because of his mind, but because of his physical voice being gone. He could write in a notebook to express himself, but you could tell it made him impatient and aggravated. He was always an impatient man. Quick to lose his temper. So under these conditions, it was magnified. Even as he laid there dying, he was agitated and filled with anger. But their were moments when I could tell him, "I love you Dad", and he would relax and just be thankful we were in each others company. I think he knew he wasn't gonna survive this time. His 9 lives were up. But at the time, I was convinced he would get through this, as always. I would go and check up on him every few days. Each visit was like a roller coaster ride. One day, he was doing better...next visit, he was worse. At one point doctors believed he would fully recover. But then his condition starting going down hill. It always seems that way...when things get too good, it's inevitable things will get bad soon. It came a point where through my "learning" about God, I realized my dad needed prayer. I didn't have it in me to pray for him (although I did privately) because I wasn't even fully convinced I needed a Savior. So I got my father-in-law to come to the hospital and pray for him. To give him the opportunity to accept Jesus, even though I had yet to do so myself. My dad couldn't speak at all by this visit. But my father-in-law came in and asked him to say the prayer in his heart to himself, since he could not say it out loud. I can't remember the exact words of the prayer...but it was a sinner's prayer, that asked for forgiveness and offered a moment for my dad to accept Jesus Christ. After the prayer, we all opened our eyes and my dad was able to give us a "thumbs up" sign with a smile. I was overcome with joy. Since no actual words came from his mouth, I and everyone assumed it meant he said the prayer to himself (and to God) and meant every word. I, myself, still wasn't convinced that there was a Heaven and Hell, but I thought that IF their was...My dad would be in Heaven soon. The days following that visit seem like a blur in comparison. On March 12, 2009 we got the call that my dad had passed. I never thought I'd lose my dad at the age of 25. I always assumed we'd have plenty of time to repair our broken relationship. For so many days, weeks and years before his passing, all I could think about was how he did me wrong, hurt me, let me down and ruined my life. But since the day of his death, all I could remember was the good times. The times when we laughed. Times he taught me things I needed to know as a man. Just the good times, is all I could remember. And even in the lowest part of his life....I never questioned his love for me and my sisters and my brother. He was just a sick person, suffering through an addiction that killed him. I still think about his last days all the time. Praying that my dad knew exactly what was going on when he said that last prayer and knowing what he was praying and hoped that he meant every word. Sometimes I wonder, what if he didn't mean it, what if he didn't believe it.....what if....what if...But what if he did believe, what if he did mean every word...If so, my dad is in Heaven right now! :-). I hope he is proud of the man he helped mold (in good ways and bad ways) me into, and now that responsibility has been handed over to my new Father. Amen!
Not only did my dad's passing have profound impact on my life, but it had a convicting impact of my wife! She had witnessed death and she couldn't help think about her own eternity. After my dad's passing, Heather began to make subtle changes in her life. Never pushing those changes on me...but oh, how I would notice them. Her car radio was playing Christian music now. She never had a really foul mouth or bad language, but she cleaned her words up. Stopped cursing completely. And started realizing we needed a "home church." She was convicted about us going to Sunday school at a church for over year, but never committing to the church. Never going to a church service. Just enjoying the benefits of our ever improving marriage, but never embracing the idea being a part of a church. But I still wasn't quite ready for such a leap...
