Part 2
Anger burned in me—not just at what he did, but at how it all ended up. Here in his final stage of life, he wasn’t surrounded by family. There were four of us children, 12 grandchildren, and five great-grandchildren. Yet at his side, it was just me a few days a week, one grandchild (my niece), and one great-grandchild (my niece’s son). That was it. This was not the way one’s end of life should be.
As the end drew near, I kept my sister (the oldest) and my brother (closest in age to me) updated. My other brother? A whole different story—he’ll need his own post.
My sister hadn’t seen dad in almost 17 years (I think) & rightfully so. My brother hadn’t seen him in years either. Dad had a way of attacking when you didn’t agree with him—brutal, piercing, personal attacks. While we all endured it, my sister bore the brunt as the oldest.
And here was my niece—my sister’s daughter—caring for dad because she was the only one of the grandchildren who stayed “on the in.” Thankfully she didn’t know him the way we did. She loved him, and he loved her in his way. But she was carrying the weight alone. So I stepped back in.
The spirit of division has been so strong in my family—my dad, my grandmother, my great-grandmother, and who knows how far back. I want it broken. I want freedom for my family and for future generations. I am tired and angry over what has been stolen from us.
My dad did “attempt” to reach out to my sister and brother. Honestly, it was not loving nor was it in humility and repentance. I really don’t think dad had those qualities. He didn’t even contact my brother directly—his wife did. Both declined, and I couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t safe; even dying, he was not safe to be around.
Still, I wanted peace. I do believe dad hung on in the end waiting to see my sister and brother. I wanted them to come so dad could go and maybe go in peace. I wanted this to be over for all of us. I wanted them to come so the curse of division would be broken. So that my niece wouldn’t have to always remember that her mom didn’t come. That my great-nephew wouldn’t grow up thinking his grandmother didn’t come in the final days of his great-grandfather’s life. He would never understand the man we knew as dad and I praise God that he wouldn’t know but there is a reality that even after dad passed, my great nephew would still be here and so would his grandmother (my sister) and he needed her right now.
It wasn’t about dad anymore; it was about my niece and her son. This was about our future generations. I had a decision. Was I going to fight for my family? If I did, I had to do what I didn’t want to do…
So I did what I didn’t want to do. I called each one and asked them to come. I actually asked a few times but the last time was the hardest. That was literally one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. To ask my sister and brother to come visit dad when I know the pain and misery he caused them was… well, I didn’t want to do it. Dad hurt their whole family. Not just them but everyone. This was a tall ask. But eventually I did, and I felt awful doing it, but I did it.
They love me A LOT thankfully, because both responded to me with love. And I wasn’t asking if I could borrow a cup of sugar. I was asking something that only Jesus could cover. A miracle that only God could coordinate. For me in that moment, it wasn’t about their answer. It was about me being obedient to a calling I had. A calling only I could do. Was I going to choose obedience or rebellion? I chose obedience and they still loved me even after I asked. Gosh I love them so much.
