Why I really don't like the song "Daddy's Hands"

For no particular reason I have been reliving the morning of June 20, 2009 in my head. I can see mom, Shane, and I standing around Daddy's hospital bed. I can see the machines, the tiny window with a view of the parking lot. I thought about what I was wearing. What he looked like in that bed... looking at us, but not really looking at us. I think he realized those were his final glimpses of us... I looked scared... he looked peaceful. What his heavy hand felt like in mind... so strong, so rough... calluses of a life of hard work and commitment. Those hands always made me feel so secure. From the time I was the littlest to that very last day, I loved to hold my daddy's hand. Not only did the protect me, but they loved me... provided for me, more importantly they prayed earnestly for me. Every day.

That morning I held on to him as long as they would allow me to. I didn't want to physically let go... and I never will emotionally or mentally let go. I will forever cherish that feeling of my hand in his... what his rough skin felt like that last day as we took our last breaths on earth here together. I squeeze my hand into a fist wishing I could remember what it felt like... it kills me that some of those memories are going... the physical memories. The things that a picture or listening to him sing on my iTunes can't remind me of... scents I can still recall, but his touch I can't.

All these thoughts bring me to one I have contemplated since Mawmaw Cole's death. Daddy truly felt that Mawmaw was robbed of Heaven when she was revived after she stopped breathing in the ICU in August of 2007. He was angry with the doctors who had not yet received her DNR orders... but I disagree with daddy on this one. If that would have been God's time for her, no amount of resuscitation those doctors and nurses tried would have worked. God did not mean for Mawmaw to come home that day. And no matter how much I wanted the doctors and nurses to do something more for daddy... to do CPR or something... I know that if that had not been his day to go Home something would have prevented it. I often wonder if Daddy would have been angry at us if we had requested to overrule his DNR order. I think he might have... because I know that he was already seeing Heaven in those last hours, and as I have said before... no matter how much I wish he was still here, that I could feel those rough, loving, hardworking hands of his I would not choose to nor would I have the power to rob him of his planned and timed entrance to Heaven.

Before daddy died, I liked the song "Daddy's Hands"... but because of everything written in this blog tonight... I just can't listen to it without breaking down (which I did when it was sang at my great uncle's funeral). However, I still think the lyrics of the song are beautiful, so that's what I leave you with tonight...

I remember Daddy´s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.

I remember Daddy´s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I´ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I´ll always remember the love in Daddy´s hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.

I remember Daddy´s hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I´d live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy´s hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.'
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.There was always love .....In Daddy´s hands.


*** Please pray for a precious baby girl Helen Claire Lucas. She is 8 months old and has been in the hospital for a week with pneumonia and bronchitis. I have not been able to talk to her mom Jenny... but I am so burdened for my friend who is doing her best to take care of her baby girl. I just can't imagine what they are going through. HC has been on oxygen and antibiotics... please pray for a speedy recovery for this sweet little one. ****