In the fear of the LORD one has strong confidence, and his children will have a refuge. – Proverbs 14:26
Our dad, George Thomas McAdams, died on Christmas Day. Less than a month before his 94th birthday. He’d been persevering through both cancer and Alzheimer’s for a long time. He died at home with my brother and sister-in-law. When Dad’s condition had deteriorated such that he couldn’t stay in this beautiful assisted living situation he had, these two brought him home with them. They would care for him during “the long goodbye” of both diseases he had.
The hospice team said 3 weeks…it would be three months. I will always be grateful to my family for caring for Dad so well. My multiple trips coming in to assist probably helped me more than them…but those trips are done.
Now we gather and he’s gone.
We are just beginning to grieve fully. In recent years, we grieved by degrees as he lost parts of his memory and and his independence – both of which served him well for most of his long life.
I’ve written about Dad other times. The following glimpse of his life is adapted from a previous blog. [I left the “present tense” verbs…he was…and he is…and we will see him again in Heaven.]
Born in 1923, Dad was six years old at the start of the Great Depression. He would have to drop out of school in the 6th grade to help his father with their farm. He worked alongside his little sister and marveled how she seemed to always pick more cotton than he did in a day. A mischief was born in my dad in those days that continues today. When he and his sister talk about these lean years growing up, they both have such a joy in them remembering those days. This sweet aunt also has Alzheimer’s, and although her memory, like Dad’s, has worsened, her personality continues to be untouched, again like Dad’s. It’s such a joy for me to see her face light up when Dad remembers a story that she also remembers. [Dad with his beloved little sister Rosie – both with Alzheimer’s in their last years, both dying within months of each other]
Dad only finished 6th grade, but he schooled himself in life, learning farming from his dad, and then in the years since, carpentry, plumbing, electrical work. To me, he could always do anything.
As a teen, he went with the Civilian Conservation Corps and worked on various road and park projects with other young men. Then he joined the Army during World War II. He fought in the Hedgerow (or Hedge Grove) Battles of Normandy with the 315th Infantry. He was a machine gunner and worked with a rocket launcher team. When we were younger, Dad wouldn’t talk about the war, but in his elder years, and until Alzheimer’s dulled his memory of details, he would tell us about those days. He even once had a brief conversation with General George Patton. His stories sent me searching for details about those battles. Amazing stories.
He married very young and has 5 children from his first marriage. [They have their own stories and memories which make Dad’s passing hard as well.] Some years later, when he married my mom, he took on her four children. He’s the only dad I’ve ever known. I’m so grateful for his love, and work ethic, and determination in life. He and mom made a good team. The years of growing up with them married were the years that I learned about Jesus and became a Christ-follower.
Dad always had a servant heart. If he wasn’t out on a service truck somewhere helping someone, he was on the phone, talking someone through how to fix something. Like I said, he loved to work, and never minded calls from family, friends, neighbors who needed him.
He and my mom would do a lot of serving together. They were very active in their church and also had a special heart for widows and the elderly. Their home was always open to people who needed a good meal or an encouraging word. Mom and Dad cared for her older brother and wife, as well as an elderly friend. Two grandchildren also lived with them for awhile, along with their dad (my oldest brother) during a difficult time of his own.Mom and Dad traveled overseas together to see other grandchildren (that would be our children) while we were living in Egypt and then in Tunisia. Then Mom was diagnosed with cancer and for the three years she endured that disease, Dad was right there for her. We were home the last year, and as hard as it was for all of us having to say goodbye to Mom, we were so touched by the sweet love they had through all of it. Dad would come twice more to see us, while we lived in Morocco, before he put his passport away.
Dad has always been a character. Until his health started flagging (having had two cancers and severe cardiac issues), he was remarkably strong for his age. He says it’s from all the hard work he did all his life, and I believe him. He loves the Atlanta Braves (especially the years of Chipper Jones) and Southern Gospel music (the Gaither’s, in particular). I have never beat him in checkers. In fact, the only one who I knew could beat him was Mom. We don’t play checkers any more because when his memory started dimming, I didn’t want to take the chance that I might win. It would be so wrong.
Before his eyesight worsened, he read the Bible most days (studying his Sunday School lesson) and he read the newspaper every day. He loved to go out to eat – fried fish, okra, chicken livers (emphasis on fried) and hot dogs at The Varsity. He had coffee every morning and loved whatever anyone set before him (his favorite being a sausage egg biscuit from Martin’s). The servers all knew him at his favorite local restaurants, and it was fun just sitting across from him, as they came around to wait our table and just to talk. He preferred Ford pickup trucks and always wanted a red one (his last truck would be a red pickup but this time a Dodge Ram). He had a poster of a red Ford truck on his bedroom wall for as long as I can remember.
All the family, his pastor, and friends would make it a good transition for him. He will make a place for himself there, and we will all come see him and tell the stories back to him that he’s told us all these long years.
I have a little of Dad’s mischief in me because one of the things I do that annoys my family is to take pictures of them when they’re napping. Just like we love to watch children sweetly sleeping, that’s what moves me to capture these images. There in the middle of all his loud family gathered happily for his 90th birthday, Dad nods off. Maybe because of all the cake he put away (did I mention his sweet tooth?)…but more so, I think he sleeps safe in the sweet company of those who love him.
Finally, I love his hands. He used to have rough, work-worn hands. Strong and capable. Now, they are soft…and not so strong. That doesn’t matter. They are still beautiful…and now we hold his hands, like he once held ours. How thankful we all are that he’s still with us…in this different season of life.
With the ravages of cancer, his age maybe, and Alzheimer’s Disease, Dad became very small before he died. Still amazingly strong, but small. Never mind that. We celebrate this man across the long years God gave him. He’s had a very large life.