Angie Milton Guest Columnist
randyandangie06@gmail.com “For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand outside. I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God Than dwell in the tents of wickedness. For the Lord God is a sun and shield; The Lord gives grace and glory; No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, How blessed is the man who trusts in You!” — Psalms 84:10-12 One of my earliest memories of Daddy involves me standing at a glass–or maybe it was an old fashioned screened door, crying as he left to go to work. My mom tells stories of how I would cry and scream every time he left. He always came back, but that didn’t stop me from screaming each time.
I tried to copy everything he did. Another memory I have is trying to eat as fast as he ate. I never could understand if I took a bite each time he did and ate the same food he did, how he would finish his first. Every. Single. Time. I tried it over and over again, only to be amazed that he always finished his plate first.
My dad did everything fast. If we took him to the doctor, he would be out of the car and in the office before we ever parked. He didn’t walk, he ran. Even at 83 and a half years old, he left us behind everywhere he went. We got a kick out of what we called his 60 second visits and his 30 second phone calls. Almost as soon as he would walk in the door, he would say he needed to go! Even on the phone when he would ask us a question, he would say, “OK, gotta go. Bye,” leaving the question unanswered and us always confused and chuckling.
He always had to be everywhere early, even before places would open, sitting in the parking lot wondering why they would not open their doors since he was there. “They know I'm out here,” he would say. When I took him to his last doctor appointment, we were 17 minutes early. He kept looking at his watch and made the comment that we “really were not very early!” He even was the first one at church each week, arriving 30 minutes before the service started. Pretty much, you could count on him being the first person everywhere!
Daddy loved his dogs, and most animals. He enjoyed watching birds early in the mornings on his feeders and birdhouses. He could see them from inside in his chair or on his porch. He said he thought he loved watching birds so much because when he was a kid, he and his brothers killed birds, so now that he is older he likes watching them live. I think that is why he enjoyed taxidermy work. He was able to make animals come to life after someone or something killed them.
Through the years, he and I would occasionally butt heads. He could be a stubborn man at times, and I was a tiny bit stubborn myself–Okay, okay. Well, I was very stubborn, too! At least, I got it honestly. But he loved me no matter what, unconditionally. He always let me know that.
In 2008, he had a stroke. He came to our house and stayed just a few days until he could learn to navigate the walker. Pretty soon he left us and the walker in the dust and headed back to his house, stubbornly stating he was ready to go home! He let us know he appreciated us helping him, but he was ready to go! So, home he went!
Any aspects of our relationship that might have been frustrating, all fade to the background. All I remember are the good times. I remember him rocking me to sleep. He taught me to play chess at a young age, and we played together often. I remember the fishing trips to Granddaddy’s fish camp, the early morning trips in the boat to check the fish hooks.I remember him always going to work, no matter the job he had to take to support us. I remember him being a good provider for his family. I remember him teaching us to work and to work hard whether we were working in his chicken houses or in an air-conditioned office. He taught us to be good citizens, to vote, to stand up for what’s right. He always treated my friends and my cousins as his own children, sometimes letting them all stay with us for days on end. I have memories of him racing my brother in the yard. I remember him always taking my sister these little puppy cakes because she loved dogs. I remember he and mom making our Christmases special no matter how much money they had or didn’t have. He loved watching us open presents. He even showed up to my house one day with an old chair that belonged to my granny because he wanted me to have it. I remember him cutting out and keeping every column I ever wrote for the paper and letting me know how much he enjoyed reading them. Every time I made him soup, he let me know how much he loved it and especially how he’d like some more! He told anyone that would listen, how proud he was of his kids. There are just too many good memories to put in one column! Most of all, though, I remember him being a good dad, the very best he knew how, the very best one for us.
The last few weeks of his life, Daddy also made the best patient-except for when he would try to race down the hall with his walker! Once again we were all telling him to slow down! He was kind and understanding with my bumbling nursing attempts, even gently checking (behind my back!) with my sister to make sure his meds were right. No matter how tired he was, he appreciated all his cards and calls and visits. Even when he was exhausted, he didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Several times we had to just insist he go on to bed. He was grateful, sweet, and even said on one occasion that he was “thankful for cancer because it gave me extra time with you kids.” He considered what we all thought to be terrible, to be a blessing instead.
Dad treated his diagnosis like he did anything else he undertook, head first, by the horns, and in a hurry to get it done. When we received the prognosis leaving the doctor’s office, he told me and my sister that he would see us in heaven. “Dad, hold on!” I said. “We are going home today, not to heaven, not just yet!” We got in the car and called my brother on the way to dad’s house. Dad told him the same thing, “I’ll see y’all in heaven, Son.” My brother had to reiterate that we had plenty of time to say our goodbyes and for us to enjoy the time we had left together. Basically as we all had to do from time to time, he told Daddy to slow down!
After I got him home and settled in, my brother commented that he didn’t know how Dad would be able to go to sleep after receiving the diagnosis and prognosis of 3-4 months. I said, “Well, Joey. I’m not sure, but somehow dad is sound asleep.” Dad didn’t know the future or how much time he had on earth, but he knew the One who held it in His hand. From the first moment the doctor gave us the news, he said, “I put it like this. I’ve had a good life, I’ve had good health, and God has blessed me with 83 and a half years. And I’m ready to see my parents and my brothers and sister.” He was the last one on earth from his family of nine. Throughout his last weeks Dad spoke freely of heaven and showed an excitement to get there. He didn’t want to leave his children, grandchildren, friends, or even his dogs, expressing concern for each of those, but he knew God would take care of them all as He’d taken care of him all his years.
Daddy wasn’t a perfect man, but he knew a perfect Savior. Many years ago he walked an aisle, took the pastor’s hand, and told him he desired to be saved and baptized. And so he was. I remember him telling me that he knew God saved him that day and when he came up out of that water, he felt like a new person. There wasn’t anything special in that water, the aisle, or even that service. The “special” was in the Savior that Daddy gave his life to on that day.
So true to his nature, only two weeks after his prognosis, Daddy raced into his Savior’s arms. (Sometimes I wonder if even Jesus thought he was a tad early!)
It was as if Daddy was saying one last time, “Gotta go! Bye!”
God was so gracious in allowing us the honor to be with him constantly and care for him during his last few weeks All three of us were there even as he took his last breath. He didn’t suffer in pain or struggle to breathe. He just went peacefully.
And Daddy, this time, even though I still stand at the door and cry, I know I will see you again and that is worth everything. I thank God for you and your relationship with Him.
Love you, Daddy. See you in heaven.
Milton is a retired school counselor and guest columnist. She wrote this tribute in memory of her father, Joseph “J.E.” Thomas Jr., who passed away April 29.
