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The Story of the most Inspirational Man I ever Knew
My Dad The Greatest Inspiration I Ever Knew
My Dad was born in 1925 on Veteran's Day, November 11,1925. He grew up in rural eastern North Carolina. His father died when dad was still a young boy. His childhood from what I gather was pretty normal. He went to school, delivered papers on his bicycle, and enjoyed a quiet life.
Until World War II broke out his life was as normal as could be for those days. He volunteered for the Army and was accepted. He was really only seventeen years old, but his bothers helped him with the dates etc. He served in Germany during the war. He never spoke of what happened over there. He made it back home and later met and married my mother.
I was born a year and one month after my parents marriage. Then followed my sisters two of them and my brother. Four children all together. We lived in Norfolk, Virginia at this time. We were fairly well off, lived in a brick rancher, went to the beach, and I remember I had a bicycle before we moved to Radford, Virginia.
We lived in Radford, for about six years and I don't remember much about it except while living there my dad's mom died. I had the chickenpox and couldn't go to the funeral, and it made me so sad. We moved from there to Mount Airy, North Carolina when I turned eleven years old.
This is where I have lived the rest of my life and where my wonderful dad is buried. I could never understand why my dad never got sick. He never complained with a cold, flu or any ailments. The only time I remember my dad not being able to go to work was when he fell from a scaffold inside a building and almost severed his left ring finger off. He was not happy about having to stay out of work. I have pictures of him with the bandages on his hand. I never saw him take any pain medicine or anything. He had a favorite saying, "I am the most perfect man, that there ever was. I don't get sick." I heard this saying all my life and wondered many times if dad really believed this or was he just putting on for people. I had to wait until dad got quite a bit older to learn the truth.
Dad called me up one day a few years later to ask me to come to church with him the following Sunday. He told me that he was being ordained as a deacon of his church and would love to have as many of his children there as could come. I promised to be there.
That Sunday changed my life. After listening to the pastor and meeting most of the congregation I had an overwhelming sense of belonging. I shook hands with the pastor at the close of the service and tried to tell him about the feeling I had. That Wednesday night I went back for bible studies, and the next Sunday I returned yet again for services. This time I told the pastor what was happening to me. I ended up joining the church, because I had finally found what I had searched for my whole life in every church I had attended. I knew finally that I had come home to where the Lord wanted me to be.
My Dad was a little concerned that I had joined his church because of him. He did not know if that was what was happening. We had a long talk and I told him that it really hadn't had anything to do with him. The Lord had used him to get me there, but the rest was entirely up to me and the Lord.
My dad and I became almost inseparable for the rest of his life here on this earth. I used to tell him after having a blocked artery surgery that I was sure of where I would be spending eternity and that I was ready for the Lord to take me whenever he was ready. Dad would always scold me for saying that. He didn't believe at that time in saying that you were ready to die when God was ready. He blieved in being ready, but just not saying it to the world. Every other aspect of the Holy Bible we usually completely agreed on. He would come to my house every morning that he could except on Sundays and we would drink coffee and discuss the last week's sermon and bible studies.
We even went on vacations together. My dad, stepmother, husband, children and/or grandchildren. We had some very wonderful times that I carry with me in my heart and in pictures. I grew to love and respect this man more than I had ever dreamed.
Four years ago everything changed. It was December 1, 2011 at six in the evening. He had called me earlier and told me he would see me later for coffee after he returned from a christmas party at his ruritan building. At seven p.m. I recieved a call from my stepmom that dad had wrecked on the way to the meeting and was on his way to the hospital.
He was air llifted to Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem, NC and then transported to Forsyth Hospital. He had an aortic aneuroism in his stomach. He had no pain whatsoever. He was diagnosed with lung cancer at the same time. The doctor told us he would never make it through the surgery. But the doctor was wrong. Not only did he pull through he was nicknamed the miracle man by the doctor and all the nurses.
On December 24, 2015, dad drew his last breath on this earth. He wasn't upset at leaving, he was looking up to heaven when he died. His expression that of awe and wonder. I will never forget his eyes and the complete peace his expression brought over me. He was my inspiration, my rock, and my dad. I loved him dearly, and he is with me in my heart. I will never be alone. I can't wait to join him one day in heaven and celebrate our journey. I will see you later dad, when I come to join you.
by Pamlia Wall, March 30, 2016