There’s a place where time seems to stop. A place where the space between tick and tock lengthens, a clock slows to a crawl, where each moment feels like an eternity. For me this place was the ICU of Southside Hospital. My Dad was closing the final chapter of his life which was ending with dementia.

Even though Dad’s earthly struggle was ending and his faith in Jesus was solid; and I was confident that Dad was going to be safe in the arms of our Savior, my pain was real. My grief had begun 7 years prior when his dementia had begun. There was nothing to do but to sit and grieve as the minutes dragged on.

I prayed. I read the Word. I still hurt.

One of the things Dad and I had in common was our love of music; we both love to sing. Throughout my childhood Dad always had music playing. We had stereo speakers in our living room and even one in the bathroom. When I visited him in the nursing home, I would sing to him hoping he would sing along. As he lay there dying, I took his hand and I sang quietly at his side. At one very special moment, he squeezed my hand.

As my hand warmed to his touch and the tears pulsed down my face, I was filled with a new sense of hope. Not hope that my Dad would regain strength and continue on this earthly plain, but the hope-NO! the KNOWLEDGE that I WOULD see him again, that we WILL be reunited on the last day, that as Dad took his last breath on this earth, my Dad WOULD be opening his eyes and seeing Jesus face to face!

My Dad’s struggle ended the next day. That special moment is frozen in my heart reminds me of the hope we both share in Jesus Christ. That hope is the reason I continue to share my faith with others.

Until my clock runs out or Jesus returns, I live for Him.

In His Service,

Linda Guteres