Red Gap before Sundown

I drove too fast.  I talked to fast.  I ate too fast.

You name it.

I did it too fast.

At least that's what my daddy thought.

"You don't have to make Red Gap before sundown."

I have no idea how many times I might have heard daddy say that.  I can tell you - it was a lot.

And on Wednesday, September 16, 2009, I had an opportunity to throw those words right back at him.

We knew the time was near for daddy's passing.  I think he knew, too.  At least it seems that way today as I remember that he kept asking me when I was going to work.  (I had said I didn't want to be here when daddy died - I was afraid I would not know what to do.  He knew that.  What he didn't know what that the Hospice nurse had given me some instructions and I was more comfortable with what I thought the situation might entail).

I did go to work and had been there only a short while when my cell phone rang.  The voice on the line was my son.  Tray came three times each day to turn his granddaddy so that he could breathe comfortably and would not develop any blisters on his body (I know those blisters have another name.  I just don't like it).

"Granddaddy's not doing so hot," Tray said. 

I hurried home and as I neared his bedside, I saw that he was taking deep and rapid breaths.

"Just take little breaths," I told him.

"You don't have to make Red Gap by sundown."

The Hospice nurse gave him something to help him relax, but I like to think he had already heeded my advice.

The breathing slowed down.  He began to have a very far away look in his eye.  He listened as his minister personalized the 23rd Psalm and then at around 5:00 in a manner that very much suited his calm and gentle spirit - he just sort of wafted out the window.

Sundown would be a couple hours off.  He wasn't on the way to Red Gap.  He was on his way to be with Jesus.  A few days before he had told Tray that he had heard about Heaven all of his life and he was curious to see what it was going to be like. 

Our family stood by his bed.  We believed his curiosity was about to be satisfied.  That might be good for him, but it made us all sad.

There have been three years of sundowns since that afternoon. 

Even though I know that no one lives forever (at least on this earth) and that my daddy had lived a good, rich and full life, I am still sad and I still miss him.  AND I still drive too fast, talk too fast, eat too fast.

And sometimes when I do I can almost hear my daddy - "you don't have to make Red Gap by sundown".