Many call him "Pop" and some call him "Pop Pop." I've called him both, but I've also called him "Dad" - my loving father, William "Bill" H. Johnson. On the evening of May 11, 2010, Pop rested peacefully with Mom by his side and passed on to wake up in the arms of Jesus.
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
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.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.
His hands are swollen.
His feet unsteady.
His tired demeanor
Says he is ready.
I am his arms
As I put his pajamas on,
An act of service
To father from son.
His frame is weak.
Balding is his head.
I slowly lift his legs
And tuck him into bed.
I lay out his book,
his water, and phone.
I say, "I love you, Dad."
He says, "I love you, too, son."
He drifts off to sleep.
A snore begins to drone -
Bittersweet to be there
Father and son.
His hands are tiny,
His feet unsteady.
His silly demeanor
Says he is not ready.
Yet, I am his arms
As I put his pajamas on,
An act of service
From father to son.
His frame is small.
Soft is his head.
He laughs and giggles
As I tuck him into bed.
I lay out his book,
car, truck, and toy phone.
I say, "I love you, boy."
"Love you, too," laughs the son.
He drifts off to sleep
With his toys, his fun,
A bittersweet contrast -
Father and son.
My hands were tiny.
My feet once unsteady.
Through different demeanors,
At times I was ready.
He was my arms
As he put my pajamas on,
An act of service
From father to son.
My frame was small.
Soft was his head.
He laughed and I giggled
As he tucked me into bed.
He read me a book,
and made rubber band guns.
He said, "I love you, boy."
"I love you, too," said the son.
I drift off to sleep
With my toys, and my fun,
A sweet memory to keep
of Father and son.
His hands shall be new.
His feet will be steady.
He has kept the faith.
I know he is ready.
He will be lifted up,
Clothed with Christ on,
As he sees face-to-face
The Father and Son.
His frame will be healed.
God will lift up his head.
He will laugh and leap,
No need to go to bed.
He read the Good Book,
and believed in the One.
Who'll say, "Enter where I've prepared.
My faithful servant, well done."
I drift off to sleep
As prayers flow to that One.
Knowing Dad knows the Spirit,
the Father and Son.
One day, Dad will sleep
And to Heaven ascend.
Daddy, I will be there
With the Father and Son.
The Holy Spirit lives in you.
You haven't lost, but won.
He lives in me, too,
The Father and Son.
The grief will be temporary
We'll converse again
As we both stand with the Spirit,
Father and Son.
Pop said, "Be there."
Do you know Jesus, the One
Way to God the Spirit,
Father and Son?
I drift off to sleep
As tears flow to the One.
This is only the beginning -
Father and son.
~ written by Jamie Johnson, reflecting on a visit with his Dad on a mid-April evening where he tucked his father into bed, then after driving home, tucked his son into bed.
