In a couple of days, Dad will have been gone from here for a year. As the date approaches, I am compelled to tell you about one of the blessings that flowed from his departure. I was witness to a miracle.

It was a scene straight from Hollywood. Mom and Dad were married for 30 years, and it was devastating when they decided to divorce just as I'd turned 15. Families were not designed to break apart, and the years since had been spotted with heartbreak for all of us.

When Dad was struck ill, my siblings and I of course shared the news with Mom. I was unsure how she would respond....unsure for but a moment.

"I want to come see him," she said, with an authority that took me by surprise. "Please ask Cyndi if this would be OK." Cyndi, Dad's wife, graciously agreed, and before I knew it, I was walking Mom into Dad's hospital room. I hadn't been alone in a room with my mom and dad in 22 years. It was a surreal moment I will never forget.

By this time, he was unconscious, alive only by the miracle of machines. Seemingly asleep, he nonetheless looked strong in his bed, and his color was exceptional. This did not look like a dying man!

Without any hesitation or fear, she moved alongside him, grabbed his big hand, held it tightly, brushed his forehead with her other hand, and began to speak to her once true love and father of her children.

"Oh my, Clutch." she said. (This had been her nickname for him while they dated in college.)
"You look so handsome. What are you doing in this bed? This isn't you. I remember how you always hated hospitals. And here you are."

She moved closely to his face, the face that she'd loved and stood by for all those years. With a quiet and graceful tone, she proceeded to tell him how much he'd meant to her. She thanked him for being such an incredible Dad to the kids. And most profoundly, she thanked him for trying so hard to love and understand her.

"I'll see you again someday, when our family will be reunited without any pain or hurting. Be well."

And with that, she kissed his forehead, began to weep, and left the room.

I will always cherish this last glimpse of my parents relationship. Closure -- at last.