Happy 1st Birthday, Will!

Happy 1st Birthday, little buddy! I can't believe an entire year has passed since we welcomed you into the world! When I held you for the first time one year ago today, I knew that we would be the best of friends and we definitely are!

Moments

There are rare moments in our lives…perhaps moments that occur in seconds or moments that occur over the series of days…but these moments are moments that we look at and say "That's when it all changed!" During these moments you can feel it all changing, it's as if the world stops spinning and time stands still…once the world starts spinning again it seems to spin in a different direction. Perhaps it feels that way because life as you know it has come to an end and you know that from that moment things will never be the same. You know that is the moment that it all changed. As I sit and reflect, I look back to the end of December of 2002…it was one of those rare moments in time that I can look at and say, "That's when it all changed. From that moment on, my life would never be the same." It's strange, here I am five years later and it's all changed again. Though the circumstances & details of the moments are much different they are also very much the same. Five years ago I was mourning the loss of one of the most important things in my life…it wasn't a physical death that took place, but it was like a death, it was the death of "us." The world stopped spinning when we went from "we" to "you" and "me." Fast forward to present day and here I am again mourning the loss of one of the most important people in my life. This time, unlike before, it is a physical death…my Daddy passed away. My world has stopped spinning, I've felt it all change, I know it's a moment that I will look at and say "that's when it all changed, from that moment on my life would never be the same." I feel lost…I feel alone…I feel this childlike vulnerability inside my heart…I feel this huge void inside of me because my daddy is no longer under the same sky, looking at the same stars…I feel scared because I've never known life without my dad, I've never had to exist in a world where he didn't…I feel this overwhelming sense of heartache…I feel…I feel things that words can't explain… Though I am filled with uncertainty beyond belief, there is one thing I know for certain, from this moment on, my life will never be the same, and I will never be the same. I will look back and know that this is when it all changed because I felt it all change.

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

In Loving Memory of My Daddy!

William Ensley Parham, Jr
March 15, 1942 - January 19, 2008

Birthplace: Maryville, TN
Resided In: Sevierville, Tennessee
Visitation: January 26, 2008
Service: January 26, 2008


William (Bill) Ensley Parham, Jr., age 65 of Sevierville, passed away Saturday, January 19, 2008.

He was preceded in death by his father Rev. William Ensley Parham, Sr.

He is survived by his:
Mother: Ruby Watson Parham
Daughters: Kristin Parham Jennings and Melissa Parham
Son-in-law: Zachary Jennings
Grandson: William Jennings
Brother and sister-in-law: Robert (Bob) and Judy Parham
Sister and brother-in-law: Bonita and Walter Price
Nieces and nephews: Lisa Verble, Tracey Parham, Roger and Lona Price
Friends and hospice caregivers: Angela, Carolyn, and Florence

Memorial donations may be made to the American Cancer Society, c/o Teri Newman, 3629 Parkway, Pigeon Forge, TN 37863.

The following poem and dissertation were read at my Father's memorial service on Saturday. Both sound exactly like what my Daddy would say if he could speak to us today:


Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.

~ Mary Elizabeth Frye

"HIS GRACE IS SUFFICIENT"

God and I. That was it. Fresh out of miracles it seemed. God and I. In the fact of death, it was either that or nothing at all. There was no one to blame -- no sign, no job, no certainty, no cure in sight, and no telling what God had in mind.

I was alone with God, holy in his determined, unpredictable will. That was it, a place of both alarming aloneness and tender communion. I don't want this to sound too pious or sentimentally spiritual; but whatever the process entailed, it was certainly not devout or sweet. I was really scared. These last days were filled with the peculiar and and strangling frenzy of waiting. I cried a lot, worried a lot, questioned a lot, felt lost, slept little, and beyond all of that, God began to touch me deeply.

I started being honest, dreadfully honest. I felt the freedom to do not just the right thing, but the real thing. I didn't like the idea of death. Death for me was the great intruder. I was angry with God that he would ask me even to consider it. I had questions for which I didn't think God had the answers, or if he did, he wasn't willing to share them with me. And when I asked those questions, a surprising thing happened: what was meant as confrontation became release. Far from resenting my questions, God welcomed them. He bore the pain in the questions just as Christ bore my pain on the cross. In my confusion, I may have wanted to wound him, but he only bled for me. In expressing what was really going on inside me -- the anger, the hurt, the rage against dying -- he comprehended my pain and translated my helplessness into certain strength. I didn't know how. I didn't know much about grace, but I was learning.

God and I. And in the dropping of "I" -- just God. That was it – no answers, no specifics coming from high the mountaintop, no concluding refrain -- just a letting go of it all. All of it. And in the release, in the dying itself, the seed of hope and grace. I know it sounds backward, but I have found that the deepest moments in my life have always been the lease contrived. In the release of control, I have found humbling power through Jesus Christ my Lord. In the chaos of death, I have found moments of sustaining peace.

God gave me no answers -- just his presence. Just that. And that was sufficient. His grace was sufficient.

Welcome to our world little William

My life will never be the same because my nephew arrived this morning. Due to the fact that my brother-in-law has absolutely no tolerance for blood or bodily fluids, I was the one that was in the O.R. with Kristin. Because Will didn't want to leave the safe space of his mommy's womb, he had to be delivered via C-section. It was obvious that blood and guts do not bother me at all because I watched anxiously over the curtain the entire time. When I saw his perfect little body and heard his precious cry I was overwhelmed and moved to tears. He didn't like the nurses, but once they placed him in my arms he immediately knew that Aunt Lissa was there to rescue him. I was the first to hold him, I was able to introduce him to his mommy and welcome him to this world. I never imagined I could love someone this much! What a miracle and precious gift from God.
Even though Daddy just finished his first round of intensive chemotherapy on Friday, he was determined to be here to see his first grand-child on the day of his birth. (After all, William's named after my daddy and Papa.) My daddy was filled with joy as he said, "Hi buddy! Your Papa loves you more than you will ever know!"

The world stopped spinning and time stood still while my brain tried to grasp the words I just heard...

To all those in my circle:

Over the past couple of days some of you have heard the news about my father. Since I am still in shock and not fully able to grasp the reality of the news I have received, I find that it is easier to post a letter for all of you to read. Last week my father had to go for an upper GI endoscopy and colonoscopy. He told my sister and I that they had removed 6 polyps from his colon, but that everything was ok. He said that he had to go for a CT scan on Friday as a precautionary measure. I had this gut feeling that something was seriously wrong and I remember saying to him, "Daddy, promise me you would tell me if it was serious." He responded, "Baby, I promise you. I wouldn't tell you over the phone though, I would drive down there and tell you to your face." Around five o'clock Friday I got a call from my dad. He asked what my sister and I were doing that night and told me he was on his way from Pigeon Forge to Chattanooga. I immediately knew that something was wrong and insisted that he tell me instead of making me wait 3 hours for him to arrive. It took some persuading (as you all know I can be fairly stubborn), but he finally said to me "Baby, it's cancer." The world seemed to stop spinning and time stood still while my brain tried to grasp the words that he had spoken to me. I asked what stage the cancer was in and he stated that he did not know. They had only told him that he had a malignent tumor in his esophagus, the tumor was so large that his esophagus was almost closed. (He's been having difficulty swallowing, but always said that he had a hernia.) He had an appointment scheduled with the oncologist and surgeon this morning and was supposed to find out what stage the cancer is in. Unfortunately, that is not information we have found out as of now. They were able to tell him that the tumor has grown into his pulmonary artery and is possibly touching the lining of his heart. He has to go on Feburary 8 for a PET scan, MRI on his brain, and pulmonary functions testing to find out how advance the cancer has become. The doctor told him that they will not have the results of the tests until the following week. This is the same type of cancer my Papa (grandfather) lost the battle to and it's hard to imagine going through it all again. It is especially difficult to think about what my grandmother must be going through. My grandfather passed away the day before their 50th wedding anniversary and now, almost 16 years later, she has to hear and deal with the news that her son has the same type of cancer. My sister and I are both still in shock. I alternate between wanting to cry, wanting to throw up, disbelief, and wanting to DO something to make it better. Unfortunately, there isn't anything I can DO...I can only pray and cling tight to hope. He's my daddy and this is so hard....I ask that each of you please pray for him as well. Pray for my grandmother, my aunt, my uncle, my sister, and my entire family. As I receive more news, I will keep you updated. I love you all and thank you for being such an important part of my life!

Always, Melissa

One more thing...To leave you all with some happy news, my sister is 6 months pregnant with my dad's first grandchild. She's having a boy....my daddy has been so excited! We are all so excited! I'm going to be Aunt Lissa!

I Can't Speak Thunder

My best friends little boy, Ethan, has been at T.C. Thompson for the past several days because of a staph infection in his blood. Despite his physical weakness from the infection his spirit has not been weakened nor has his ability to inspire all of us around him...
His older cousin asked him the question, "Ethan, did you hear the storm last night?" He replied, "Yeah I heard the storm...It was Jesus talkin' to me!" His Papa then asked, "What was Jesus saying?" In the most serious and innocent voice he responded, "I don't know what he was sayin'. I can't speak thunder!"