Let Me Die in Your Arms

Today is the anniversary of the death of my father. It’s been a long time. I’m not going to go there. But I am going to talk about how much my daddy loved my mom. They had some problems. I don’t remember those as well but I do remember the love between those two. And I thought that kind of love was automatic.

Daddy was sick for two years. He was in and out of the hospital. It came down to the fact that he was going to have to have a kidney transplant. Daddy was diabetic. The diabetes caused him to lose his sight. And the insulin he took every day to treat the diabetes destroyed his kidneys. He was on dialysis but ended up having a kidney transplant. I think it was the third transplant in the city of Louisville. He had the transplant Christmas Eve 1976. He died in March 1977.

Every time Daddy had to go to the hospital he was never alone. My grandmother spent the days with him. My mother spent the nights. She would work all day and go to the hospital with him after work. She did this for two years.

One thing I remember about the day that Daddy died is that it was a Sunday. We were all home. Daddy was in intensive care. We were all hanging out in Mom’s room and we got the call to come to the hospital. I had been away at school and was home on spring break. I had not had a chance to go see Daddy yet so I didn’t know what I was walking into. They had taken Daddy’s transplanted kidney out because his diabetes wouldn’t let it heal to his body. They were going to start him back on dialysis on Monday. Mom wasn’t going to let them. But she didn’t want to be the one to make that call. God would take care of that for her.

When we got to the hospital Daddy was in a room to himself and they had him hooked up to all kinds of machines. I stood at the foot of his bed, not recognizing my daddy. I remember Mom climbing up in bed and laying Daddy’s head on her lap. She just held him and loved on him. The nurses lead me out of the room and put me in one of those private waiting rooms for occasions such as this. It wasn’t much longer that other family members joined us there. I remember asking if Daddy had died. The nurse said “not yet”. I think that just shocked me to the core. When he had died Mom came in and at some point we all went home, never to have to go to that hospital again.

I have seen numerous people die in my life. Most have had their loved ones surrounding them. But I’ve never experienced the intimacy of my father’s death again.

Daddy died in Mama’s arms.

When Jimmy and I were talking about getting married I told him I wanted to marry a man who loved me as much as my daddy loved my mama. He said he guessed he loved me that much. I asked him how he knew that. He knew me of that time but he didn’t know my parents that well. He told me he loved me enough to marry me. I thought later, well, that is true.

I’m not sure if Jimmy and I have the love that my parents had but he makes me laugh, and I love to see him walk into a room, and when I die I pray that I get to die in his arms.