The Glory of Love
Posted: Sunday, May 25, 2008
by Judi Lake
Judi Lake Advertising
I should have recognized the
signs, but I didn’t. Can blaming my shortsightedness of the condition on my own
weariness be an ample excuse? I don’t know.
I feel terrible that I didn’t
know… I should have, but I didn’t.
“Mamma, will Pop-Pop be
alright?"
With my eyes glued on the
ambulance driving away, I grab her small hand very tightly and softly whisper,
“I hope so, baby girl, I hope so."
Three hours later, my restless
daughter and I are in The Marian County Emergency Room alongside my ailing
father as he sleeps peacefully in the hospital bed. I am informed that he is in
congestive heart failure and renal failure.
Why didn’t I see the signs?
Tenderly stroking his tousled,
white hair, I quietly begin to hum the song we’d sing together a long, long
time ago….
***
“Daddy’s home, daddy’s home!"
“Jud-eee, you can’t leave us! We’re
still playing!"
“Oh, yes I can! My daddy promised he’d build me my dollhouse today!"
Before I could spit, I was home
and in his arms. Laughing aloud, he asks, “You ready, Judikins?"
Clapping my hands in joy, I
enthusiastically shout aloud, “Yes, daddy, I am!"
Still in his police uniform, he
quickly changes into “work clothes." Good-naturedly, my mom hands us a pitcher
of Kool-Aid as we escape to his workshop in the basement. I am too little to
use most of the tools, but he gives me the “most important" part of the job to
do: paint the outside shutters any color I chose.
Always with a song in his heart,
he is happily singing as my very own Victorian House comes to life.
“Oh, daddy, it is the most
beautiful house I’ve ever seen!"
“Wait, Judikins, after you paint
the shutters, I have a surprise for you."
Hardly able to contain my
excitement, I carefully paint each shutter a deep, forest green. Pleased with
the results, I nudge my father for my surprise.
“You ready?"
“Yes!"
Winking, he motions me to ring
the front doorbell of the house. Obediently, I do and it immediately chimes the
first few notes of the song, “The Glory of Love."
“Oh, daddy, that makes this a
perfect house!" Jumping into his arms, I squeeze his neck, and, as we admire
the new dollhouse, we both sing “our" song:
“…As long as there's the two
of us,
We've got the world and all
it's charms…
…That's the story of, that's
the glory of love…."
***
I am awoken to reality by a tap
on my shoulder. I look up and the night nurse is speaking to me. “Mrs. Lake,
you’ve been dreaming or something, but you have got to get that little girl
home. We’ve got a room for your daddy and he’ll be fine."
In agreement, I pick up my
sleeping child, and, passing the nurses station, am stopped by the head nurse,
Rose.
“Mrs. Lake, I am sure everything
will be fine but are there any next of kin you’d like me to contact for you?"
Without hesitation, I coldly
reply, “Thank you, Rose, but no. There is no one," and walk straight through
the exit door.
I allow the tears to flow freely
from me as I drive home. I am not an only child but have lived as one for many
years. The youngest of three siblings, I buried my mother alone and am now a
solo caregiver for my aging father.
It shouldn’t be this way, but it
is.
My eighty-four year old father,
who is now more my “son," was a very good “daddy:" he worked hard, provided
well for us and loved his children very much. He was a good son-in-law and was
a better son to my grandparents then their own.
Sometime during his mid-life,
however, something happened to him and he changed. Experts referred to it as
being a “dry drunk" but I tend to believe that mental illness is in his genes.
When his children were all grown, my father began to become more and more
eccentric and less and less of a “father."
But I remember. Yes, I remember
the many wonderful memories he gave me as a little girl. He always made me feel
like a princess and I adored him.
He is the man in my life who
taught me how to love purely and unconditionally. Through my father, I saw
beauty and a song in everything. Through him, I understood God early.
As I put my own “sleepy-head" to
bed, I empty his plastic bag of soiled clothes the nurses had given me. Before
putting them in the washing machine, I carefully check all the pockets and
remove his wallet. Curious, I glance through it and find his old police shield
number 506, his wedding picture and pictures of his three children.
I also notice an old, worn,
yellowed piece of paper in the last photo slot of his wallet and carefully
remove it. Immediately, I recognize the child-like print as my own written over
forty years ago:
Daddy, surprise! I hope your
day is magical and I always want you to know how much I love you. While you
walk your beat today, it’ll be me singing in your heart:
You've got to give a little,
take a little,
And let your poor heart break
a little.
That's the story of, that's
the glory of love.
You've got to laugh a little,
cry a little,
Until the clouds roll by a
little.
That's the story of, that's
the glory of love.
As long as there's the two of
us,
We've got the world and all
it's charms.
And when the world is through
with us,
We've got each other's arms.
You've got to win a little,
lose a little,
Yes, and always have the
blues a little.
That's the story of, that's
the glory of love…
With all of my love and
kisses forever, Your Judikins
Oh, yes, I remember and, yes, I
love him.
That was a very good heart felt article Judi. KimberlyKimberly, it's funny that sometimes something that happened only 5 minutes is forgotten and yet, like your father's day article, something that happened years ago is still fresh and alive... Thanks for commenting!
He will keep thee in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee. Your father and family are in my prayers, my dear friend. Our Father is watching over all of you. This was beautiful and stirred me to tears. I and so many others relate, Judi. We are never alone . . . no, no never! Ya know I'm huggin' ya! *smile*No, Avis, we are never alone although it does seem as though sometimes. I'm hugging you back, Miss Avis! Thanks for being you!
Judi, I carry a little peice of paper from my little girl with me and yes, I know your pain. We humans take a lot for granted but I know your dad being a wise man knew that just someday when he couldn't say to you any longer physically what he wanted to, he could by you finding that little note that he treasured and he carried evrywhere an kept in his heart and yes his soul. So ,remembr while he gave it back to you for now, one day he most likely will ask his little girl for it back, so he can carry it for eternity. With all the best, prayers and wishes, Robert.Hi Robert! I guess because I am truly a sentimental person, when Laura was born, I began writings for her which I intend to have bound as a book to hand to her when she is 21 -- I am preparing it just like a regular retail book and have named it, "With Love, From Mommy" so that when I am gone, she will know all that is in my heart -- these, to me, are what matters. Your own sensitivity shines though your thoughts and your family is fortunate to have Robert among them! Happy Memorial Day!
hi judi, t his was such a heart warming story. i can relate well. my father was my hero, and i loved him very much. thanks for sharing, best regards, sueAw, Sue, you're always so kind; you are very special! Wrapping my "virtual arms" around you with lots of hugs! Thanks for commenting!
Hi girlfriend. We haven't talked, so I didn't know. I am praying and I want you to know, you have been given a special gift. Your siblings have lost and you have won the prize! God knew you could handle it, but more important, he knew you would treasure it. You have the gift to have your daddy all to yourself. Don't be angry with your brothers. Cry for their loss. I love you bunches!!! Can't wait to hear your voice again. Love and friendship, LThanks Lucy and please know that I, too, pray for you -- I wish I could say that I am always patient and understanding but I am not - some days are very hard but then again, I am sure there were many hard days raising me as well for him. Thanks for commenting and am hoping we speak soon as well!
Judi, I have not been here to submit in ages and took a moment to peruse the most recent titles and picked this one to scan. Is your dad ok? I also note the new picture (at least to me it is new). You might be warmed to know that in this picture you look just like your dad - at least the pictures I have seen of him in the last 2 years. All is well that is right with Jehovah.As you know, Sandra, our parents are as good as their age permits; dad's in congestive heart failure as well as renal failure but it's part of the process and we have to do the best with it. As I've probably told you often in the past, and still believe, they were there to change our diapers and parent us so now it's our time and the role reversal can be a bittersweet journey with many highs and lows. It's life and that's all there is to it. I have no idea how the picture of me got posted again, but the older I get, I'm told I look more like my mother; when I was a young girl, I favored my father's looks very much.
