On Sunday last, Heaven became a little richer.  My wife’s father passed away peacefully and quietly, after his three loving daughters spent the weekend by his side.  He entered the hospital Friday morning with labored breathing due to pneumonia and congestive heart problems.  He had spent Thursday afternoon riding with his youngest, eating ice cream and watching for birds.
He has spent the last four and a half years at home with round-the-clock sitters helping him cope with advancing Alzheimer’s disease.  He was 91.  He succeeded his mentor, Fannie Cook, as the second Director of the Mississippi Museum of Natural Science from which he retired after 30 years service.  He funded the Mississippi Museum of Natural Science Foundation with its first check from his personal funds.  He married the love of his life, Mary Frances Carpenter, who preceded him in death in 2007.  They were both devout Christians who loved their Lord and their church.
While he was in the hospital, our grandsons, Will and Owen, came to visit him with their mom.  Later, they asked about what was actually going on with his illness.  Melissa gave them an explanation that I consider most insightful.  She told them that there was a war going on between his body and his spirit, and that his body did not want to let his spirit go.  But, she assured them, the spirit always wins that battle, it just takes longer with some people.  An amazingly true and understandable explanation.
In tribute to a wonderful father and father-in-law, I submit the following by Edgar Guest, entitled “Only a Dad”:
 
Only a dad, with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame,
To show how well he has played the game,
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come, and to hear his voice.
 
Only a dad, with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more.
Plodding along in the daily strife
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.
 
Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent, whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.
 
Only a dad, but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing, with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen,
Only a dad, but the best of men.
 
Benjamin Erskine Gandy, you are missed and celebrated.  You finally made it.