I'm not doing this right...

That was my thought as I drove to the hospital, tears streaming down my face...
I'm not doing this right...
My dad is nearing the end of his 83 year long life...
I've never lost someone this close to me.
And I'm not handling it very well.

My dad will go on hospice this week (I only recently learned what that's really about).
He's got bone cancer...spawned from one of his other two cancers.
He's tired.
I've never seen such exhaustion.
Today the pain began in earnest.
I watched my strong dad--who knows the answer to everything and can fix anything--beg for help.
I couldn't help him.
I could pray though.
So I did.
I held his hand and prayed...so very hard...so very earnestly...
And then I began to cry and I couldn't get another word out so my mom prayed instead.
My dad prayed in one-word breaths...between our tears.

It has been a few days since I've prayed in sentences.
I've been unable to think of what to pray.
Why would I not be able to form a sentence on behalf of my dad to the One who can help him most?
I don't know why.
But I couldn't.
I tried.
I called out to God but no thoughts or words came.
"The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." Romans 8:26
What a comfort...I don't need to know what to pray every second of every day...or every nano-second of every minute as I sit next to my precious dad.

And I come back to this:  I don't know how to watch someone I love suffer and die.
I don't want to know how...
But I have to do it.
We all do.
It's inevitable.
So as I blubber and struggle with conflicting prayers such as:
Lord, please take him quickly so he won't suffer - and
Lord, please allow him to be with us for just a little longer...
I hope I'm doing this right...
I love him so...
But this I know...
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
For you are with me.
Your rod and your staff,
they comfort me."

God is my comfort...
There's one way to do this right (with or without a never-ending flow of tears), and that is to Trust in the One who knows the number of our days...
Trust Him to to be present with my dad, quiet him with His love and rejoice over him with singing as He ushers my dad home.