On May 20, 1977, I was sleeping in on my first day home from my junior year of college. I heard my dad and younger brothers in the kitchen
having breakfast before leaving for work and school. I thought about getting up to say good morning to Dad. I’d only seen him for a few minutes the night before when I arrived home. But it felt so good to be in my own bed with no reason to have to get up. So I snuggled in and went back to sleep.
having breakfast before leaving for work and school. I thought about getting up to say good morning to Dad. I’d only seen him for a few minutes the night before when I arrived home. But it felt so good to be in my own bed with no reason to have to get up. So I snuggled in and went back to sleep.Later that day, Dad left his job at a local store to drive his afternoon school bus route. At one point, he stopped to let kids off, got up to deal with some misbehavior at the back of the bus, and when he sat back down in the driver’s seat, he slumped over never to regain consciousness. The kids managed to get him off the bus and lay him on the ground. One of the kids called for an ambulance, but this was before 911 and apparently they forgot to give the address before hanging up. There was no way to know where to send the volunteer emergency personnel.
Eventually, the owner of the bus company called Mom to say Dad had been taken to the hospital. But when my family got to the hospital, they asked why we were there. Dad was DOA. The coroner said he was probably dead as soon as he slumped over. He’d suffered a near-fatal heart attack three years before.
Our pastor happened to see us in the hallway; he’d been visiting other hospitalized parishioners and he took us into a private meeting room and prayed with us. Dad had been a mentor to him, and months before, when his wife passed away, Dad had shared with him 2 Timothy 4:7-8. “I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award me on that day…”
I’ve missed knowing my dad as an adult. I’m sorry my husband never got to meet him, my kids never got a chance to know their grandpa. But most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t get up that morning. It would’ve taken just a few minutes and I could’ve gone back to bed.
When you have the chance to express your love for someone, even if it requires effort or seems inconvenient, do it. Make the effort. Don’t pass up what may be your last chance to say, “Good morning. I love you.”
