"However, as it is written: "What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived" -- the things God has prepared for those who love him--"
Thankful tonight that my father-in-law is experiencing all that God has prepared for him. What an impact this man has had on countless others. Evidenced by the incredible outpouring of love by those who love him. His faith became sight tonight as our family gathered around him and saw him breathe his last breath. What an honor and privilege. Thank you, God, for Russ's dad. Thank you, Jim, for the legacy you leave behind and the amazing man you raised that I call my husband. Heaven gained a precious angel and there is rejoicing tonight! What a sight it must be!
Those are the words I typed late in the early hours on July 30. It had been a night full of togetherness, desperate prayers, lots of tears, and a house full of family and dear friends. July 29 at 9:15 pm my father-in-law left this chaotic world for his eternal home. A home he has been ready for and anxious to see. We rejoice for him as we can only imagine what that night was like for him. And, yet, as I type these words still...over a month later...my heart is aching and tears are filling my eyes.
Because we miss him. Russ picks up his cell phone to call home many nights after work...and for that brief second he thinks, "I can't wait to talk to Dad." I look through pictures from time to time and I still can't comprehend myself the reality. We miss him.
We miss his opinions - and he had many. We miss being able to ask him anything about anything and he had the answer. We miss his hugs, his jokes, and his smile. We miss watching Millie Janalee race into the house looking for Pop to give a big hug. We miss seeing Smith's face light up when Pop smiled and talked to him. We miss his loving jokes as he messed with Russ's mom and made us all laugh or snicker. We miss his prayers at the dinner table or in the sunroom. I even miss getting in trouble for not using a coaster over and over again. We just miss his voice.
We miss him.
Back in February, Jim had a procedure for what the doctors hoped was a gall stone or gall bladder issue. What they found when they opened him up was a tumor. The doctors took some tissue to test the tumor, and we would soon learn that Russ's dad had a rare and aggressive bile duct cancer called cholangiocarcinoma. Russ referred him to a renowned surgeon in St. Louis that specialized in this type of cancer. Because of the recent surgery, the surgeon recommended three rounds of chemo while his body healed from the surgery and so we could see what kind of spread we were looking at. Jim was presented in a muti-disciplinary conference at Barnes Jewish Hospital to discuss the case, and all were in agreement with treatment. Jim underwent rough rounds of chemo with a smile on his face and encouraging words to anyone he came in contact with. He was thankful and considered himself blessed and lucky to be in such great shape, living the life he has lived, and proud of his family. His disposition throughout was a blessing to us as family. And a testimony to all that knew him. He returned to the surgeon on May 18 for more scans and to make plans for the upcoming surgery to remove the cancer. It was that day we learned the cancer had spread and grown. It was no longer operable. Chemo would, at best, double his life expectancy - although we didn't know what that timeline was. Jim declined chemo. He wanted to live the life he had left as full as he could.
We didn't know what that meant - years, months, weeks? We presumed it would be more like months, but I don't know that any of us really prepared ourselves for how quickly his health declined.
Russ was still finishing up his fellowship in St. Louis. His attendings allowed him time to leave to spend time with his dad. We could never thank them enough for the precious memories made. The entire family basically moved in for the remainder of the summer. And in case you don't know - there's 17 or more of us!! We were sleeping in beds, on the floor, in recliners, on couches, and anywhere else we could. I've never felt closer to Russ's family than I did in those days and times. We were all there for the sole purpose of spending time together. We listened to Jim tell stories, we reminisced, we laughed, we hugged, and we cried. We had scares. Very few of us slept. We sang hymns with family and friends. We were blessed by so many who brought food, drinks, and flowers.
We gathered around Jim's bed as a family...holding hands and laying hands on Jim. Holding on to the time we had in that moment. Russ's Uncle Sam led us in a special prayer. Everyone dispersed around the house doing different things. Minutes later, Russ called us all in the room and we watched as Jim breathed his last breath.
With arms wrapped around each other, we celebrated Jim's life and mourned for those of us left behind. We missed him already.
The visitations and funeral were such a visual representation of how many people Russ's dad helped and touched during his life. There was never an end to the line of people who came through. The chapel was packed. He was a friend to so many. And those people loved us, as his family, well during this time. There are not enough words to express our thanks to those who supplied us with food, encouragement, cards, flowers, and even those who shared their own stories of how Jim helped them. What a legacy.
Jim lived his life well.
We know we will see Jim again. But it's still hard. We know he was ready. He knew where he was going, and he couldn't wait to get there. And, OH, how great our reunion will be! I can see his face now with that grin from ear to ear...proud of his children, grandchildren, and all of us who will go running just for another hug around the neck.
Thankful to our Father for Jim's life.
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