“Where there’s His will . . . there’s a way.” ~ Romans 8:
26-27
Karl didn’t mind the cold. He’d take a cold sunny day in January over
some of the bone chilling damp, gray days last fall. He pulled up the covers and buried his face
into the pillow only to be roused by a voice he knew too well.
“Come on Dad, it’s time to get ready!” Kelli declared. She leaned in to kiss him. His once-impish grin had long since vanished;
replaced by the bloodshot eyes of a chemo-weary face.
“Am I dying today?” he countered. After battling lung cancer for years, things
had become critical. Anemic and short of
breath, his treatment options had expired.
Karl’s oncologist wasn’t sure he’d survive the weekend.
“No Dad,” she replied.
“I’ve got a surprise for you. Get
dressed!”
After everyone left his hospital room, Karl dressed and was escorted
by wheelchair to the Chapel.
As a nurse wheeled him into the small Sanctuary, a recorded
version of “The Wedding March” announced Kelli’s arrival . . . wearing a broad
smile . . . in her wedding gown. About
20 relatives, nurses, and friends applauded.
“Daddy, we couldn’t possibly make the most important
commitment of our lives without you,” she said beaming with the radiance of the
sun itself.
After exchanging vows and sharing her first kiss as a
married woman, the new bride clutched her father’s hand. “Will you dance with
me, Dad?” Kelli pleaded.
“I can’t dance,” Karl protested. He wasn’t strong enough to get out of his
wheelchair.
“You don’t have to,” Kelli replied. “We’ll improvise.” As the song “I Will Always Love You” played
in the background, Karl wept openly as Kelli swayed from side to side and
helped him spin. Though she didn’t have
the ceremony she’d envisioned as a little girl, she did fulfill her dream of
dancing with her Dad at her wedding.
Karl died three days later.
Of all his 63 years of great memories, he lived his final days savoring his
favorite – Kelli’s wedding. Next were
reflections about their family vacations on Pelican Lake. That, he said, was where he wanted them to
spread his ashes.
And so they will, next summer after a grand wedding
reception as originally planned. Bigger
– but never more intimate; better but not more significant.
“Though we miss Dad and wish he were still here,
we know that he’s with You now. Thank you Lord, for his gentle spirit, his unwavering
courage, his rock-solid integrity. Thank
you for giving him the strength to share our special day.” ~ Kelli and
Nick
