Tribute to a Father
Kori Sauser, MSII

He looks tired.  He looks gray.  He looks lifeless.

Tears silently stream down my face and I see him strong, alive, vivacious.  Standing on the third base line motioning me on –t o run through from 2^nd to 3^rd to home plate.  He rushes to meet me, to celebrate with me as I cross the plate and score the winning run for the wildcats.  We high five, we cheer, and we hug.  That’s my Daddy.  That’s the dear soul I want to remember.

People stream in and out of the hospital room and it teems with activity.   Somehow, though, without his warmth, without his personality to fill the room, it feels empty and cold.  I hear the bustle of the hospital around me, and I know that hundreds of people in this building are working and breathing and living their lives.  And yet I sit here, in this austere building, and I am in another world.  A world of only Dad, me, and nothing else.

I watch him.  He is emaciated.  His chest slowly rises and falls, but does he hear me?  Does he know that I am here beside him?  “ Dad?” I ask tentatively, my voice barely audible.  I try again:  “Dad?  I was thinking just now.  About Lake Geneva.  About our boat rides, and the Beach Boys, and water skiing…  Dad?  Those were great times Daddy.  I wore my hair in pig-tails, ‘cause that’s the way you like it.  I mean that’s the way you liked it.  Oh Daddy…” I gasp for air, where is it?  Why can’t I breathe?  Help me Lord.  I can’t do this.  I can’t let go of him.  I can’t God.  I can’t. 

We’re in a car together and Abba is playing on the radio.  I’m breathing again; we’re singing:  “Chickadee both you and I knoooow…” I look up at him full of adoration, and he looks away from the road, catches my eye, and winks.   

O Lord God.  Heavenly Father.  He seems so far away but here he is right in front of me.  Help me Lord.  Help me to let go;  to say good-bye; to remember him the way that he was.  I want to remember him not as this unconscious man in front of me, but as the ebullient spirit that he was.  As the father who didn’t let me pass him in the hallway without giving him a hug.  As the man who cheered me on in sports and in life.  As the man who lived his life for me, for my brothers, for my mom. 

He was a wonderful spirit, a man of You, Lord.  He lived his life to the fullest and glorified You in all he did.  Now, as he is ready to pass 2^nd base, 3^rd base, and run home, I am the one standing at 3^rd, motioning him on and cheering as he crosses home plate, crosses into the arms of our Lord and Savior.