I remember the phone call with that singular clarity that comes with life changing moments. My mom’s voice speaking words I never wanted to hear…words no one wants to hear. “Kimmy, the doctor found a mass in your Dad’s lung. They are going to do a biopsy but it doesn’t look good.” Those words changed my life is a profound way. Not just the obvious, loss of a man bigger than life way, but in a way I never imagined. Those words changed how I breathe, how I eat, how I live and how I love. To understand the profound change that this journey through the loss of my Dad caused, you need to understand the man my father was and the impact his life had on all those around him. Alfred Gordon Ruggles (always known as Ted) was born on July 23, 1937. He was the second son and the fourth child of Fred and Laurette Grenier Ruggles. His parents had married young as was the custom and together they worked a small family farm in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. A place touched by the Great Artist’s hand at the beginning of time, gentle hills and peaceful fields, mountains skirted in glorious red maple trees and adorned with wild flowers. This place where my father was born remains an important place in our family, not just a home but a living, breathing piece of our father’s soul. Here my father learned a work ethic that would serve him well all his life. My dad had many careers. He served 24 years in the Air Force. He worked for the state of Vermont for 15 years as a safety compliance officer for OSHA. The career that affected who my father was the most was being a Pastor in the United Methodist Church. There is a whole conversion and calling story that is fascinating and long but that isn’t the focus of my story. This story is about the impact Dad had on me. I can remember being quite young and laying on my Dad’s chest listening to him breathe, the sound of his heartbeat echoing in my ears. Dad was comfort and love; he was my biggest supporter and sometimes my harshest critic. He was a tough disciplinarian and a gentle comforter. In the turbulent times in my life, he guided me with empathy and compassion. Even now, nearly 3 years after his passing, I hear his voice at times guiding me. Dad had an intense and committed love for God. He was always studying God’s word and imparting wisdom gleaned from scripture. As a Pastor, his greatest gift was caring for the people of the church. He gave of himself in the hopes that others would see God in him. He taught me that being a Christian isn’t about how pious I am. It isn’t about my accomplishments at all. Ephesians2:8” For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.” Being a Christian is about God, recognizing God’s grace, accepting God’s grace, and teaching others about God’s grace through my actions, words and prayers. Dad was completely committed to my Mother. He called her love names and teased her gently. Their relationship withstood heartache and trials, teenagers and job changes, loss and triumph. In the last weeks of my Dad’s life, I flew back to Vermont to help care for him. I spent 6 weeks watching my parents love each other and grieve together the loss of their life together. My Dad never expressed concern or worry about his future. He knew without a doubt that he was going to heaven to be with his Savior. His worry and concern was for my Mom. Dad and I had long talks about taking care of Mom. She didn’t need physical care. She was then and is now a strong capable woman. Dad’s concern was for her emotional needs and spiritual needs. “Lean on the kids, Nancy. They will be here for you.” He said over and over again. “Take care of Momma, Kimmy. She will need you more than ever.” In the time I spent taking care of Dad, something inside me changed. I saw clearly for the first time, my Dad as a person outside of his Fatherhood. Meeting his physical needs allowed me to see him as a child of God separate from the Dad image I had always carried inside me. It was humbling to know that this man, who to me had always been bigger than life, now relied on me to care for him. Dad, Mom and I spent time reading scripture together, singing (BADLY) hymns we knew and loved and tallking about God. Only once did I see fear in his eyes. There was a day, I don’t remember the exact date, He suddenly realized that the cancer growing in his chest and brain was quickly winning the battle and he asked us to call the doctor and ask if there was a chance to do one more treatment. When he asked, there was this flicker of fear. The doctor of course told him that the time of treatment had long come and gone. With that, the fear subsided and he gained a peace and calmness that never left him again. Dad’s last day was spent napping in his favorite recliner, wrapped in his favorite snuggie and surrounded with visitors that popped in and out to say a few words or offer a prayer. My husband was flying up from North Carolina that day and Dad kept asking for him off and on. When Jay walked in, Dad’s face beamed and he greeted him with love. “Hi my Bubs” Then Dad looked at Mom and the bible and said, “ You do it…” There beside my Dad’s recliner, Mom led Jay to the Lord. Dad beamed, hugged Jay and said, “Okay it’s my bedtime.” Moments after Dad was in bed, he slipped into unconsciousness and at 4:00 am he went home to his Lord. Right up to the last moment of his life Dad was thinking about the spiritual well-being of his flock. Those first few days after Dad passed are a blur of family, friends, funereal and grief. In the 3 years since, I have slowly come to see how great the time with Dad was. What a profound impact they have had in my life and how faith changing it was. I learned to see God through the dying eyes of my Father. I learned that God doesn’t give us cancer. God gives us the grace to live with cancer. I learned that God doesn’t pick some prayers to answer and leave others ignored. God is His wisdom answers all prayers. It’s just that sometimes the answer is no, or I have a bigger plan. I learned that my faith in my God is a personal thing, not because my father believed or my mother believed but because I, myself, have seen the works of God in my own life and come to believe. I learned that nothing is bigger than God. (not even me) I learned that in my darkest times and biggest grief God is always there. In my greatest joy and happiest thoughts, God is there. Romans 8:38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,m neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. For me, walking through the final days of my father’s life was a journey of faith and the joy and peace that he felt in his last days, I cling to now in the chaos and busyness of raising teenagers and managing a multi-generational household. I visit often in my mind, the memories of Dad. They have become fragrance filled and dew glistened flowers in a garden where I can still walk with my Dad. The end.