Dad, my sister Brandy, and her son JoshuaJanuary 16, 2001
I can remember it just like it was yesterday. I was in the last semester of college at Houghton and had volunteered to speak at chapel. I had just a week left to prepare my testimony. With only 25 minutes left until my first class, I was debating about whether or not to call my Dad to talk with him about what I was going to say. You see, Dad hadn't been a key figure in my early childhood. I wanted to say something about this in my talk, but didn't want him to be surprised when he came. (He had promised to come to hear me talk...it would be his first time on campus!) I decided to call in spite of the time constraint.
We had a great talk. He had been very busy working a full time job, taking care of his 7 month old daughter, and having a side job of repairing cars. Needless to say, he was exhausted. At one point, he quipped, "Heather, I've figured out how to make it work. You break the candle in half, and burn it at all four ends!" I was glad for the good conversation and decided not to broach the subject of my talk, except for confirming that he would still be coming.
That was a bigger decision that I ever guessed it would be.
Later in the day, I decided to head up to the gym for some study time in the conference room before basketball practice began. At one point the phone rang and I heard the secretary say, "Heather Munson, yes, she's here." Since I never receive phone calls at the gym office, I knew something must be wrong.
When I answered, the woman said, "Heather, you need to call home right away."
"What is it?" I inquired.
"Just call home," she replied.
I made the call in Coach's office.
Grandma answered.
"What's wrong?" I asked, fearing that something had happened to my Mom.
"Are you sitting down?"
"Grandma, just tell me."
"Are you sitting down?"
I obliged and sat.
"Ok, I'm sitting. What happened?"
"Heather, it's your Dad. He's dead."
During the conversation, I found out that he had gone out to fix a car and was working on sodering off a gas tank. The fumes in the tank lit, then exploded. The initial explosion didn't kill him. It was the smoke inhalation that did.
A few days later, we buried him with full military honors. Each gunshot that was fired in his honor pounded in the reality that I would go the rest of my life without my Dad there. As I sat there thinking, I was relieved that I was able to talk with him the day he died- and that I hadn't said anything that had the potential of hurting him. Yes, God was good in guiding my decision to call Dad and the discussion topic.
Ten years have passed. With the 10 years, there has been a year in Europe, a wedding, a teaching career, two kids, and so many little memories. Dad hasn't been a part of any of this. And yet, I know that he's in a far better place. God had a different plan for him. His plan was to take Dad away far too early for us, but at just the right time in His eyes.
I love you, Dad.
