Page 82 - In Pursuit of the Sunbeam.indd

Joe
We often picture older gentlemen as kind, little old men in fedoras shuffling down the hall with a cane. Joe did not fit the picture. He was a retired farmer, construction worker and maintenance man who could cuss fifty ways from Sunday and not feel a bit bad about it.
Joe was also a husband and father, and his relationship with his daughter Sarah was very special. Sarah had a special empathy for the pain and suffering her father was experiencing from colon cancer and Alzheimer’s disease because she, too, was dying.
One Friday afternoon we received a call from the hospital. Sarah was not very strong and had missed visits to her dad’s household; could he possibly come over to see her? Joe was very excited about going. I helped him put on his best shirt and hat, and we set off for the hospital. We didn’t talk much on the way. He knew Sarah was sick, but I am not sure how much of her illness he understood.
Sarah smiled when he walked into the room. The social workers had called us without letting Sarah know, and it was a terrific surprise for her. She sat on the edge of the bed and talked with her dad for more than 15 minutes. As their conversation winded down I stepped back into the room. Sarah reached over and gave her dad a long hug and said, “I’ll see you soon, Daddy. I love you.”
Sarah died a few days later. At his family’s request, no one told Joe. He continued his daily routine for a time until suddenly one evening he also died. Billie, a household team member who was with him in his last moments, described him smiling and reaching up before he relaxed and went home.
Of course, we all believe he was reaching for the hand of Sarah, his escort to heaven.
Stories for Sharing 67