Bring the Light

Tiger, Chris, and Travis

My father passed away on September 11th. His health was not great, but in the span of a few weeks it drastically declined from him being able to get around on his own, to being bedridden, and then barely conscious for the last few days.

My brother called me on September 1oth and told me that it felt like our dad could pass at any time. I was scheduled to come the following week, but I quickly changed my ticket and flew out the next morning. My brother picked me up from the airport and we went straight to our dad. Within an hour, he was gone.

My brother Tiger brings the light. With everything he does, and everyone he interacts with, he brings the light. You will not find a person on the planet who has a bad thing to say about him. Instead, they will tell you what an amazing guy he is. You know the bobble head dolls with the permanent smile that sit on your dashboard and bounce happily to every bump? That’s my brother. You know how golden retrievers have that permanently joyful smile? That’s my brother. He always brings the light.

For the last too many years to count, my brother has had to tend to most of the daily needs of my dad. He was a phone call, text, and ridiculous request away from every one of my dad’s needs and appointments. And somehow he always did with a smile.

He always brings the light.

When I knew I was flying into town I texted my childhood best friend, Chris. Chris is a pastor in Saginaw, Michigan and he has also always brought the light. Chris has known my dad his whole life. Chris learned to swim in our swimming pool. My dad couldn’t have loved any of my friends more than Chris, and Chris loved my dad. Even though they had rarely seen each other in the past 20 years, the feelings for each other hadn’t changed.

I knew Chris was busy serving his community, but when I told him my dad could pass at any time, he told me he would meet me at the apartment facility. I was able to have about 30 minutes alone with my dad before Chris arrived. When Chris got there we hugged and laughed in the lobby, and then remembered why he was there.

Together with my brother, we went into my dad’s room to bring the light. My dad had been unconscious and sleeping for the past two days. Neither my brother or I were able to wake him up while we were with him, but at least he seemed peaceful.

When Chris entered the room, he went right up to my dad’s bed and greeted him with life. “Mr. T! Mr. Thomas…it’s Chris…Chris Pryor. It’s so good to see you, Mr. Thomas. Man, I have so many wonderful memories from my childhood with you. I love you, Mr. Thomas.”

Standing on the other side of the bed, I joked to my dad, “Dad, don’t worry. You’re not in heaven yet, it’s just Chris.” We all laughed, and in that moment my dad tried to open his eyes. He could feel my brother, Chris, and myself in the room. He could feel the light.

He never opened his eyes, but we knew he could sense us. After a few more minutes, Chris said goodbye to my dad one final time, and we walked him out. As my brother and I were returning to dad’s room, Tiger told me that after my dad tried to open his eyes, he thought dad stopped breathing. We walked back into the room, and he was right, my dad was gone.

In that moment, surrounded by love and draped in light, my dad let go and found peace.

For over 20 years my dad had felt like a shell of his former self. Not just physically, but he got caught up in a series of life choices that were inconsistent with the man we knew and loved. Even though we all worked through our relationships with him and still loved him, it was not an easy situation to resolve.

And yet, every day my brother met all of his needs with light. My siblings and I treated him with light. And in a moment, with the surprise visit of a childhood friend, I believe my dad was reminded of who he was (and is) at his best. When Chris entered the room and brought the light, it broke through the 20 year fog shielding my dad from who he truly was, and for one last moment, he felt and saw the light.

Thank you, Tiger for always bringing the light.

Thank you, Chris for always bringing the light.

Dad, rest in peace. Bask in the light.

Bringing the light isn’t a gift, it’s a choice.

The world needs your light.

How will you bring it today?

-Travis