February 10th is a reflection day for me... Well, it has been for the last several years. February 10 is forever marked as the worst day of my life. February 10 changed my life forever. I don't really like February 10.
February 10 was the day my daddy left this world and entered into eternity. It's been 6 years now. 6 years. As I type that I have to stop and look and count backwards. Has it really been that long? Yes. It has. 6 years worth of wanting to pick up the phone and call him. 6 years worth of dates I miss him taking me on. 6 years worth of wishing he was here to see his grandkids, and now great-grandkids, grow. 6 years of an emptiness and ache words cannot possibly come close to describing. 6 years.
The carnal side of me thinks he left this world way too soon. You're not supposed to lose a parent that young. There isn't a single day that goes by that I don't think about him, dream about him, wish I had him here.
I understand why he's gone--most of the time. He suffered terribly. His life was consumed with more physical pain than most people could endure. The last 17 months of his life we had to watch him literally die. We had to watch as his body slowly gave up. It wasn't easy.
I remember the last night he was here. JD and Cora and I had been over visiting him, as we had been every other night that week. His birthday would be approaching soon, February 26, and Cora began to discuss what she wanted for Grandaddy's birthday. My little 4 year old spoke from the backseat, "Do you know what I want for Grandaddy's birthday? I want God to heal him, and if God can't heal him here I want Him to take him to Heaven so he will be healed there." He died less than 6 hours later. The faith and prayer of a child.
Everyone who knew Doug Haynie was blessed. There was no one like my daddy. Whether he was Daddy (even my brother called him that), Grandaddy, Uncle Doug, a husband, a brother, a nephew, your friend, your pharmacist... He left a permanent and unmistakable mark on your life.
He was the man who got a call at 2AM from a sick client who needed his medicine right away--and would go. He was the man who, when his brothers or sister needed help, would go, no questions asked. He was the man who took every Wednesday off from work to spend with his baby daughter. He was the man who endured bands like Marky Mark, Warrant, Trixter and Firehouse, and many others, just to spend time with me. He was the man who let his 1st granddaughter, Brittnee, run through his pharmacy full-speed, knocking everything she could touch off the shelves, making his employees run after her picking up. He was the man who, when their parents told them they couldn't go swimming, pushed his granddaughters, Haleigh and Alyssa, into the pool, fully clothed. He liked bending those rules just a bit.
Friday, out of the blue, Cora asked me if I thought Grandaddy could look down on her from heaven. She's asked this before in the past. I told her I wasn't for sure, but the Bible says all of Heaven rejoices when one comes to Christ. I know for sure he was ecstatic and celebrating when she and JD gave their lives to the LORD and he is waiting for the day when we join him.
I look forward to that day too.
Knowing he was going to die, my dad had the opportunity to plan what he wanted for his funeral. He chose several verses, like Psalm 121, speaking of God's love and faithfulness. He also wanted to be sure the Gospel was presented clearly. He didn't want anyone to question where he was going, or how they could get there too.
He was ready to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant."
Knowing that brings me peace. Knowing he was ready, that he knew Who his Savior was, knowing he is no longer suffering and I will one day get to see him again brings me comfort. Without that I would be completely consumed with grief, even now.
For the time being I am resigned to being here, completing the work God has for me on this earth. My daddy had completed his.