Shortly before my dad died, a song came on the radio. I hadn’t heard it in many years. It immediately struck me that this song would become connected to my fathers death.
https://youtu.be/VNYFsOAmuFc Major Tom – Coming Home by Peter Schilling.
Having served in the Air Force, my father retired from the military as a Major. Even 40+ years after his retirement he was still introducing himself as Major Tom. I remember his pleasure when this song came out in 1983.
Several days passed after my hearing it on the radio. My siblings and I had started sleeping over my parents house in anticipation of my father dying. We did not want to leave him and my mother to walk through that valley alone.
Four, three, two, one – Earth below us
Drifting, falling – Floating weightless
Calling, calling home……..
The night before my dad died, my brother and I were sleeping over my parent’s house. I had woken up around 3pm to see if my father needed his meds. He was alive but quiet, I decided to leave him alone. I went back to sleep. Shortly after 5 am, I was startled awake. A sense of urgency caused me to jump up and rush into the room where my father was. I slipped beside his bed and listened. My brother had been in a recliner beside my dads bed. He rested his hand on my fathers chest and we both looked for signs of life. We quietly called his name. For the first time in our lives, there was no response.
Back at ground control -There is a problem
“Go to rockets full” – Not responding
“Hello, Major Tom – Are you receiving?
Turn the thrusters on – We’re standing by”
There’s no reply……..
My brother assumed the awful role of going to tell my mother. While he was waking and then telling her, I had a chance to one last time tell my father thank you. To tell him, he had been a good dad. I told him I loved him and I was going to miss him. As my mother entered the room, I left to call my other brothers and sister. And so began the truly, most exhausting day of my life.
Earth below us – Drifting, falling
Floating weightless – Coming home….
By mid afternoon, I arrived home. The mortician had come and taken my dads body, calls had been made, events set in motion. The trip to the florist has been forever stamped in my mind. As my sister and I sat there trying to pick out flowers that would somehow express the magnitude of our love for this man, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion. Every movement and thought was an exercise of sheer will power. My physical body and my emotions were tapped of all strength. When I finally arrived home I laid down on my bed, too tired to even cry.
As I laid there, I sent a friend a text telling her what had happened. Her texted response, “Oh, Beth, I’m so sorry!” was spoken into my heart as if she had said it out loud to me. The sincerity of those words had an effect on me that I still can not describe. My broken heart responded with a relieving flood of tears.
Desperate for something to soothe the pain, the song I had heard a few days before came to mind. I found it on youtube and within minutes was listening, and sobbing and unknowingly starting down the path to healing.
The words continued to comfort me in the days and weeks following my fathers death. My father was like that astronaut in the song, heading into the unknown. My Dad understood that dying would be his last mission. He knew that he was heading into uncharted territory. A countdown had begun. We all knew it as we gathered around him in his last days of life. In his last week of life, He repeatedly asked about my mother, did we know where the paperwork was? We reminded him, he had done a good job, that he had made sure her needs would be met. And we were here. We would take over. He could rest.
Far beneath the ship – The world is mourning
They don’t realize – He’s alive
No one understands – But Major Tom sees
“Now the light commands – This is my home – I’m coming home”
These lines in particular give me peace. He is no longer here because he’s gone home. My mind wants to war with that idea. We are his home, it cries! But that is not the truth. We were part of a place he called home for 88 years but his true home, where he will spend eternity, is not here. And I am reminded that he is very much alive. His soul, the truest part of him, has not died. He has gone ahead. Not with a goodbye. For those of us who believe, his death comes with a simple thought – ‘I’ll see you later….at home.’