After sharing his near-death experience, Dad got worse quickly; I went back home, 700 miles away. Not long after that he was hospitalized. By the time I arrived at the hospital, he was already on a respirator. In addition to the cancer, he had three lung infections.
Mom and I sat next to him and held his hand, and prayed for a miracle. I desperately wanted more time with him—to be able to hear his voice, to look into his eyes (one blue, one green) and remind him how much I loved him.
I had never told him how grateful I was for everything he had done for me. I wanted to say, “Thank you, Daddy, My Precious One; thank you so much! Thank you for waking up at 4:00 every morning to milk our goat when I was a baby (I couldn’t drink cow’s milk). Thank you for going to work at two jobs every day to buy us food and clothes. Thank you for rebuilding our home after Hurricane Betsy in 1965. Thank you for everything…” There was so much more I wanted to say, and he couldn’t hear me now.
See more to this miraculous story on my website CWLauro.com