My father was a 20 year Air Force vet. Lt. Colonel. He was asked to stay in to go full bird, but he declined. He was always patriotic but he said his time was done with the military. So he was never a guy that did the Vietnam Vet hat and stuff like that (nothing against those men). He told me a few stories here and there - some funny, some bad. He served in Vietnam, the Philippines, Germany, Turkey and many states. I didn't learn about his Bronze Star (not for valor) until after his diagnosis of Lewy Body Dementia about 8 years ago. The VA confirmed him 100% disabled due to Agent Orange. It's been a bad 8 years.

He died yesterday at 4:40 with my mom and my brother in hospice. Prior to hospice the RN was so comforting to me and my brother and mom for the first night he went into "hospice". She was really something else. When he died, my mother was asleep. The nurses came and confirmed his passing. We waited for the nurses to leave and then woke her. The first words out of her mouth were "where did she go?" She said "there was a woman in the room…wearing a flowing red dress. She walked all around the room and touched each of us with her flowing dress." She then said "he's gone isn't he?"

Because he was a veteran, they had a final send off with staff members and led by security that had served. One guy, a young bearded maintenance guy, was across on the other side and he said "god bless you". After the procession he came up to my mom and comforted her and told her God bless you. My brother later said he was wearing a large cross on his chest. I just found it so odd that a maintenance man that was probably taking a break from his duties would care so much at 8 in the morning.

Then when I was on the phone with my wife (she's a bit in touch with things and has a "sense"). She told me while at the store a little girl came up to her and gave her a rock that she had painted red. My wife asked why, and she said she wanted to give some kindness.

Then when I was cooking for my mom and brother I decided to get in more comfortable clothes. So I randomly grabbed some shorts out of my brother's drawers. I was later telling my brother about these events. He said he remembered the maintenance guy, but said "dude, look at the color of those shorts." I never wear red. And then he said "those were dad's shorts."

Well, I was downstairs and saw a painting my dad bought when he was first ill. It's a painting of a beautiful woman playing a piano. Wearing a flowing red dress. My dad bought that because he was pretty's sure it was similar to the one that hung over the piano in his parent's house

Oh yeah. The RN that gave me so much peace during a terrible time? It was Faith.

And maybe just a silly connection, the funeral guy that's been so helpful to transport my dad to the Veterans Cemetery? Jesus (Spanish) hahah.

Well, so maybe it's a lot of Jungian synchronicity during a traumatic event or maybe somebody is trying to tell me something. Call me a nut, but deep down I'm pretty sure; whether it was energy, consciousness or God, something provided my father comfort came to lead him away, and my mom picked up on that in her dream. I'm dealing with the other aspects…I'm not sure what this agnostic is going to make of it.

Oh well I don't usually share things like this on public boards but I found it cool.

My mom worked as a hospital chaplain for years and has tons of these stories. She was a believer that God is actively involved when one is dying to provide comfort to those remaining.

Here is one of her stories.

On a recent Saturday morning, I received a page for a death at Mission Trail. I explained that I was a Northeast Baptist and would get there as soon as possible. Upon arriving at Mission Trail I entered the parking lot and noticed a number of Harley Davidson motorcycles parked together. I had a passing thought about the amount of money that was tied up in those bikes while I walked into the ER. The charge nurse told me how to locate the family and when I got to the door the curtains were closed to the point that I could not see into the room. I knocked and then opened the door and pushed the curtains back so that I could enter. Inside the room were six large men, each one well over six feet tall and weighing over 300 pounds. They were all dressed in blue jeans, wearing t-shirts with denim vests covered in motorcycle gang patches and wearing scull-rag bandanas on their heads. After looking around the room and having a brief flash of "oh my goodness" running through my mind, I smiled and introduced myself to the group. I asked if they had requested a chaplain, even though I knew they had because I had been told through the page that it was a family request for a chaplain. They were very gracious and explained that they were brothers and that their mother had just died. We visited for a little while and they talked about how much they loved their mother and how special she was in their lives. After visiting, I asked if a prayer would be helpful and they agreed as a group that they did want a prayer. We prayed, thank God for the life of their mother and asking God to greet her graciously and let her spend eternity in His presence and with their permission I anointed their mother. We visited a while longer and I began to prepare to leave. When I picked up my purse, the son who appeared to be the oldest walked up to me and placed his hands on my shoulders. This man was so tall that the way he was holding on to me, I was looking him squarely in the belt buckle. He said, "Chaplain, do you know what a tree duck is?" I laughed and said that I was very familiar with tree ducks and that they always make me smile because of their big orange feet and bills, their long skinny necks, and how awkward they look trying to land on high wires. Keeping his hands on my shoulders, he said that their father loved tree ducks; in fact they were his favorite bird. He went on the explain that when he got to the hospital that morning a tree duck was standing in the parking lot, it was in the same parking space where he was parking his Harley. The duck did not move when he pulled in, turned off the motor and dismounted his bike. As he removed his helmet the duck walked toward him until it was within a foot or two of his boots, it then cocked its head and looked him in the eye. The duck stood there looking at the man for quite some time and then slowly turned and walked away. He continued, "Chaplain, I think that duck was my Dad's way of telling me that he had come back to take my Mom to heaven." Looking into his eyes I noticed that he had big tears running down his cheeks. I responded, "I think God was letting you and your brothers know that your Mom is safe with him." He gently squeezed my shoulders and dropped his hands back to his sides. I thanked all of the brothers for allowing me to be with them and quietly left.
As I walked back to my car and passed their motorcycles in the process, I couldn't help but think about how much I was touched by his story and how by outward appearances I was not expecting these members of a motorcycle gang to see a message from God in a lowly tree duck. I know I will still smile when I see a tree duck, giggle at their gangly appearance, but I will also smile and remember this family and the theology they shared with me, the theology of the tree duck.

General Jack D. Ripper said:

---

My father was a 20 year Air Force vet. Lt. Colonel. He was asked to stay in to go full bird, but he declined. He was always patriotic but he said his time was done with the military. So he was never a guy that did the Vietnam Vet hat and stuff like that (nothing against those men). He told me a few stories here and there - some funny, some bad. He served in Vietnam, the Philippines, Germany, Turkey and many states. I didn't learn about his Bronze Star (not for valor) until after his diagnosis of Lewy Body Dementia about 8 years ago. The VA confirmed him 100% disabled due to Agent Orange. It's been a bad 8 years.

He died yesterday at 4:40 with my mom and my brother in hospice. Prior to hospice the RN was so comforting to me and my brother and mom for the first night he went into "hospice". She was really something else. When he died, my mother was asleep. The nurses came and confirmed his passing. We waited for the nurses to leave and then woke her. The first words out of her mouth were "where did she go?" She said "there was a woman in the room…wearing a flowing red dress. She walked all around the room and touched each of us with her flowing dress." She then said "he's gone isn't he?"

Because he was a veteran, they had a final send off with staff members and led by security that had served. One guy, a young bearded maintenance guy, was across on the other side and he said "god bless you". After the procession he came up to my mom and comforted her and told her God bless you. My brother later said he was wearing a large cross on his chest. I just found it so odd that a maintenance man that was probably taking a break from his duties would care so much at 8 in the morning.

Then when I was on the phone with my wife (she's a bit in touch with things and has a "sense"). She told me while at the store a little girl came up to her and gave her a rock that she had painted red. My wife asked why, and she said she wanted to give some kindness.

Then when I was cooking for my mom and brother I decided to get in more comfortable clothes. So I randomly grabbed some shorts out of my brother's drawers. I was later telling my brother about these events. He said he remembered the maintenance guy, but said "dude, look at the color of those shorts." I never wear red. And then he said "those were dad's shorts."

Well, I was downstairs and saw a painting my dad bought when he was first ill. It's a painting of a beautiful woman playing a piano. Wearing a flowing red dress. My dad bought that because he was pretty's sure it was similar to the one that hung over the piano in his parent's house

Oh yeah. The RN that gave me so much peace during a terrible time? It was Faith.

And maybe just a silly connection, the funeral guy that's been so helpful to transport my dad to the Veterans Cemetery? Jesus (Spanish) hahah.

Well, so maybe it's a lot of Jungian synchronicity during a traumatic event or maybe somebody is trying to tell me something. Call me a nut, but deep down I'm pretty sure; whether it was energy, consciousness or God, something provided my father comfort came to lead him away, and my mom picked up on that in her dream. I'm dealing with the other aspects…I'm not sure what this agnostic is going to make of it.

Oh well I don't usually share things like this on public boards but I found it cool.

---

God does not hide His light. Sometimes we are not personally ready to see it, and it takes a season like you have been in to catch a glimpse. I would encourage you to spend some time seeking the Lord.

Isaiah 55: 6
Seek the Lord while he may be found;
call on him while he is near.

May the peace of the Lord Jesus Christ be upon you and your family during this time, and may your father rest in eternal peace.

Im sorry for your loss, God rest your father's soul, and may perpetual light shine upon him. I will have him as the intention for one of my decades of the rosary this evening.