Counting Answered Prayers At My Dad’s Death Bed

    MannaXPRESS Dying-bed Counting Answered Prayers At My Dad's Death Bed
    Death bed

    By Annie Glasel

    My father went home to Jesus this morning after all his heartfelt prayer requests were answered. These were my prayers as well.


    My parents had a very difficult marriage of over 50 years.  Because of being Chinese and the way they were raised, they could not get divorced.  They knew they were good people but their personalities did not match well for them as husband and wife.  There were other complications and challenges.  My father had hoped for my mother to treat him lovingly, tenderly and kindly but my mother was not made that way. (I’m much like her so I understand some of those idiosyncrasies).  To everyone’s surprise, in the last days when my dad was bed ridden but still conscious, my mother served him with sincerity, love and humility that exceeded our expectations.  She held his hand, which she hadn’t done in several decades.  She sat with him quietly, rubbed his back and tried communicating what she thought he was saying when he could no longer speak.  She checked on him every 2 hours.  She answered him immediately he beckoned or called.  She waited on him.  She bathed him.  She talked to him.  She never once complained to him or about him.  She never lost her patience with him during this time.  She never yelled at him which had been a daily occurrence during most of their married life.  Instead, she cried for him and how he was suffering so much. It was one of the biggest miracle my siblings and I witnessed as my mother never cries in front of others.  His last words to her were “Thank you” and towards the end, he responded to only her voice. 

    Pain and Suffering  

    When my dad was first diagnosed with cancer, he remembered how one of my maternal aunts died a painful death nearly 50 years prior from the same cancer; he said he didn’t want that.  During treatment, he confessed to me what scared him the most was the pain at the end.  He didn’t want to experience any form of excruciating pain.  He instructed me not to give him morphine until it was absolutely necessary at the end. He was adamant about not taking medication if he could withstand the pain.  On the day he passed on, he made himself breakfast, did the dishes and then couldn’t stand anymore.  As he lay in bed, he only experienced pain twice – one at 4 and one at 8, both related to the fall that happened to him a week before.  We gave him 1/2 of the recommended dosage of morphine for relief twice.  Then after a pain free 48 hours, he slipped away peacefully in his sleep.  

    After His Parents

    My father was orphaned at seven.  His oldest sister who was older by nearly 30 years raised him.  My father saw his sister (my aunt/adoptive mother) and brother-in-law (my uncle/adoptive father) as his parents.  My father was diagnosed with cancer in September 2017.  The thing they all feared the most was Jesus calling my father home before my uncle and aunt.  Because he served them better than a son would (he used to visit them twice a week, take them food, entertain them, fix broken things around the house and show them love). He was their most reliable, trusted relative and emotional support in the family.  My uncle passed in 2017.  My aunt earlier this year and just 10 months later, my father.


    My father knew the Lord as a young boy.  For many years, he didn’t understand why he had to be baptized and didn’t think it was necessary.  In 2018, I had an off handed conversation with him during a car ride.  I hadn’t intended to convince him, I merely voiced my opinion that if we believed in Jesus and loved him because He loves us, and all he asked us to do was NOT to conquer the world but be baptized…isn’t a simple thing to just obey?  Although my father credited me, I knew it was the Holy Spirit.  At 79 years old, he was baptized.  (He went to a sprinkling church).  I struggled with the thought of being sprinkled as opposed to baptism in a pool of water. It was not until God brought me to the crucifixion’s scene, where the man who begged for forgiveness was sprinkled with rain that my sentiment go.


    With his prayer requests fulfilled, our heavenly Father called him into his glorious arm forever.  May my father’s soul rest in perfect peace. 

    I’ve written to ease my pain; I’ve written to hear my voice; I’ve written for vanity; I’ve written for sanity; I’ve written for fun; I’ve written for laughs; I’ve written for me; I’ve written for money. But until I write for God, this talent is for naught.

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