Tuesday, March 22, 2011
"What are you doing?" he said in a somewhat raised voice. "Wrestling," Robert responded very matter-of-factly, dads raised voice never seemed to unnerve him. "Why did you stop?" Dad said in a very playful voice and then picked Mike up and threw him in the cushion pile. We wrestled for what felt like hours as Mike and Rob showed off their newest WWF moves and I tried not get tickled.... dad always cheated and tickled us. I HATE being tickled. THEN - on a Saturday morning BEFORE breakfast he took us to 7-11 for slurpees. I did all my chores that day without complaining. I even remember it was my turn to pick up the dog poop in the back yard. It was a fun day. I loved spending Saturday's with dad.
Status: As you probably know, surgery is scheduled for Friday. We are not sure exactly what time yet, but will let everyone know when we do. Dad's headaches persist. We're hoping removing some of the tumor will alleviate some of the pressure in his head and give him some rest from the headaches. We are so grateful for your prayers, calls, comments, emails and support. Katie (Robert's wife) wrote on her blog that their son Lincoln "prays every day for Grandpa David to live to be 365 times 11 or else to 1,000 years old." Thanks Lincoln, that is our prayer as well.
Mike shared an interesting perspective the other day. He said he felt that knowing your time frame for death was truly a merciful gift from our Heavenly Father. When you're taken instantly in an accident or tragedy, many are left behind sometimes with regrets and without closure. Most of us procrastinate making needed changes to our lives and relationships thinking we will get to it eventually. Knowing your time is limited brings some added perspective, clarity and motivation. It allows everyone the opportunity to make the changes they want and to truly enjoy the time they have together. Though I fully expect to have my dad around for awhile still, I'm grateful for the clarity this experience as well as my mom's cancer a few years ago has brought to my life. I love you, dad.