Twenty-eight years ago yesterday, on a Sunday, on Fathers Day, Suzanne’s mom and dad were at their cabin at Alberta Beach when Ernie started experiencing pain that he thought was probably a kidney stone. He was a Doctor and, though obviously not infallible, had successfully diagnosed these sorts of things many times, so he decided to go back to Edmonton and get checked out the following day. By late Sunday afternoon he was beginning to fail in a way that indicated it was something more serious, so Suzanne’s mom, Margaret, called one of his partners to come over and check on him. The partner called an ambulance immediately and he was rushed to the General Hospital for surgery. He had an aortic aneurysm.
We got a call about 9pm that evening at our home in Calgary. We were told that Ernie was in surgery, his condition was serious, and we should come immediately. Our four children ranged in age from 10 to 3, so we got a neighbour to watch them and headed off to Edmonton. We had to connect with one of Suzanne's sisters so it was about 11pm before we left town.
We arrived at the hospital in Edmonton just after 2am Monday morning, and were told Ernie had made it through surgery, and the situation was guarded but hopeful. Very quickly, however, we began to get less encouraging news. Things were looking bad and then worse. Eventually we were invited to go in and see him in recovery. He was unconscious, on a respirator. And, shortly after that, he died.
The sudden, unexpected death of someone you love is a shocking event, and I'm sure my recollections vary in detail from those of others, but all would agree that the impact was devastating. Ernie was the unrivaled patriarch of an all girl family. Don't misunderstand; his wife and six daughters were and are strong women, but Ernie was Papa of all he surveyed, and left a gaping hole in everyone's life that night.
He was only 61 (about one month younger than Suzanne is now), and, when you die so young, regardless what you've accomplished, you leave some important things undone. Though he was “Papa” to our kids and Maureen’s kids, he missed lots of grandchildren. He missed weddings too, and was sorely missed. He was a great husband, father, grandfather, doctor, and much more. His youngest daughter, Margo, was only 21, so if, as the Bible says, “there’s a time to die”, this wasn’t it. Ernie left a remarkable family, and that’s a great accomplishment at any age, but I often think of what more he would have given us if we’d had him for the past 28 years.
Now, at age 64, as I look back on Ernie, I think about how precious and fleeting life is. I too could get sick today and die tomorrow. I never worry about it, but I think about it often. And it helps me focus when I remember that I don't have unlimited life at my disposal. It's one of the reasons I'm in North Bay pouring out my life on my grandchildren. I'm a channel of life to those around me, rather like a garden hose attached to a cistern with no shut-off valve. I don't know how long my limited portion of life will last but, if I can’t quite control it, I can direct it. As it pours out every minute of every day, what am I pouring it on?
In Mark 14, the story is told of a woman who brought a jar of precious perfume and poured it on Jesus. Some of those present objected, "Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year's wages and the money given to the poor." But Jesus commended her for having done a beautiful thing.
In the end, every life is completely poured out. The trick is to pour it on things that matter. When I look at Margaret, Maureen, Pat, Marianne, Kate and Margo; and consider the husbands, children and grandchildren; and especially think about Suzanne and our own kids and grandchildren, I see that Ernie poured out his life on things that mattered. And, 28 years after I’m gone, I want people to be able to say the same about me.
Ernie, Pat, Marianne, Margo, Margaret
Suzanne, Kate, Maureen
No comments:
Post a Comment