Mutt

On February 14^th 1986, I said goodbye to my father. I had resigned to the fact that God was not going to heal him, as my church had promised. Days of pleading to God for mercy and begging for faith had now passed.

He lay in the hospital bed, frail and weak, his voice merely a whisper, and mine barely audible. I had tried to be brave and not cry, but this would prove impossible.

"Forgive me for being such an awful father Mutt. I hope you know I've always loved you." He whispered, tears building up in his pale blue eyes.

The nickname Mutt to anyone outside of our family circle might sound more like an insult, but it was a name my father had given me as a baby and I cherished it. While I would cringe to hear him say it aloud in public, deep down I really didn't mind.

"Please" I said, "Don't say that. You were a great dad."

His heartfelt apology only proved to make saying goodbye that much more difficult. He had not been perfect and yes he'd often hurt me, but nothing could compare to the condition of my heart in that moment.

I kissed his forehead and whispered my last "I love you." I had already decided that I couldn't be there to watch him die. I gathered my things and left the hospital, collapsing in a heap in the parking lot.

When I got home later that night, after a dinner at Chelo's to celebrate Valentine's Day, I changed into pajamas and began ironing clothes for work the next day and while chances were slim that I would be at work the following day, I did it anyway.

When the telephone rang, I stood frozen waiting for David to hand me the receiver. Linda, my older sister was on the other end and I could hear her voice crack as she spoke.

"Kathy, He's gone." She said.

It's nearly impossible to describe how one feels when a parent dies. Our parents are the center of our universe and when they're gone it's as if we lose a piece of ourselves. As I allowed the shock of the news to absorb, I cried... as I had never cried before. My world was forever changed.

David, my husband was a mean and deceitful man who rarely showed real emotion. I had learned of his true personality on our Wedding day when the cards and gifts had taken precedence over me in my new white lace teddy.

For the first time in my short marriage, I felt real emotion from David and I considered it a gift from God. David held me in his arms and told me everything would be okay.

"When God takes one soul, he replaces it with another." He said.

I didn't quite understand what he'd meant by that. I looked into his eyes for clarification and what I saw was a tender and loving kindness. He was not my husband at that moment, but my savior. As if God had propelled himself into David's body for just a minute or two.

"I think you may be pregnant." He'd said clutching me to his chest.

Our son Erik Allen was born on December 3^rd, 1986. He was two weeks' late, but conceived just days before the death of my father. I am convinced that God showed me great mercy that day and will always remember that we may not feel God's presence all the time, but when we are at our lowest he is always there to bring us back to our feet.