January 17, 2010 - The journey ends

At 4:40 pm, at the Presbyterian Village North in Dallas, Texas, SFC (Retired) Daniel Howard Wallace departed this earthly abode and joined his family in Heaven.

I received a phone call earlier in the afternoon from the hospice nurse, she said my father's breathing was so labored and his vital signs were such that she was ordering critical care, 24  hour watch on him.  She said she felt like he had less than 24 hours to live.

My wife and I left soon afterwards, calling his wife first and driving to the nursing center.

His wife, Marion was there when we arrived, as was the nurse.

His breathing was not for the faint - the horrible sound of the "rattle" could be frightening if you let it, and he strained with each breath.

We went to his bedside, he was nonresponsive to sound and touch, and his pupils were fixed.

We told him we were there and we loved him.

For awhile, we told each other (the "visitors") funny stories about family, and me in particular, about my dad.

He received a dose of Morphine at 2:45 pm, the nurse noticed he was straining to breathe again.

He began to breathe easier.

We would talk with him a little, let him know we were there and we loved him, touch his hand, his shoulder.

His breathing became labored again at 4:00 pm, and he received another dose of morphine.

About 4:25 pm, I leaned over and told him,"Dad, this is Don...I just want you to know I am here and I am not leaving you.  A lot of people are in heaven today because of you....(he was a lay minister in the church, many times speaking, and preaching, involved in many lives changing)...You have completed your call...You can go to be with Jesus anytime now....I love you Dad, and I am proud of you."

Around 4:30 pm, I was texting my son, telling him about my dad.

At 4:36 pm, I quoted the scripture "to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord."

At 4:38 pm, I sent the message, "He is almost with Jesus."

At 4:39 pm, his breathing became labored again, and it slowed significantly.

At 4:40 pm, he jerked slightly, opened his eyes and appeared to look towards me, and died.

It was over.

He won.

This race he has been running, this marathon of marathons we call life, was over...my father, with every strained breath, every painful move, every step was taking him closer to the finish line, and he crossed over, victorious, arms held high, tears of joy, as he entered the winners circle shared by Saints and martyrs.

He won.

The journey ends.

I am 9 years old once again, standing at the airport, watching my father leave.  I know it is only temporary, but a year is forever to a child.  I wonder how I will be without my dad, will I be the man he intended me to be, what will happen while he is gone, will I see him again?

Yes.

In my heart, in the deepest part, the area we dare not look into ourselves, that place so secret we are afraid to speak of, that part of my heart knows I will see him again, and I will be the man he raised.

I am my father's son.

Goodbye Dad, I will miss you, but every time I share your story, every time I show mercy, I know you are here, your legacy will live forever...

"...His mercy endures forever..."

In memory of my father, Daniel Howard Wallace.  Born in Butler, Alabama March 3, 1936.  Took the hand of his Saviour and stepped into eternity on January 17, 2010 in Dallas, Texas.