My Dad: David Lehman Madeira
December 7, 1922 – November 29, 2006
I’m back in Ireland after a month home, following the death of my amazing and wonderful Dad. Before I start back to blogging about the book of Genesis, I’d like to post some of the thoughts I wrote my mother, a week or so after Dad passed away. These thoughts were written on December 7th, 2006.
Just over a week ago, I got home from the gym to find a message from my mother saying in a broken voice that “Dad is gone.” Since my time zone is 5 hours earlier than Mom’s, she could phone me at 3 a.m. her time and not worry about waking me. Between that call and tonight, what would have been Dad’s 84th birthday, I haven’t had much time to meditate on Dad and the wonderful gift he was. Instead, I’ve been busy flying across the Atlantic and jumping right in (with the assistance of our wonderful kids) to help Mom with all the arrangements that a death brings. In Dad’s case, because he was loved by so many hundreds of people, arranging for his funeral is kind of like planning a wedding. And I suppose, in the midst of the grief, there is a similar joy, because he is finally home, and more himself than he ever was.
The grieving process has included readings lots of cards and notes, and this reading about Dad has given me the chance to process some of the memories and feelings that have been swirling around me. So Mom, it’s time for me to write about Dad and let you know just how much he meant to me.
One of my best memories of growing up is remarkably prosaic. Remember how Dad, Dave and I used to do the supper dishes together? It’s actually one of my happiest memories—just having the time with Dad before he went off to yet another meeting. Dad was really remarkable for a husband in the fifties; he did the growing shopping, washed the kitchen floor, and the dishes—plus probably a million other domestic chores I don’t remember.
The Friday “Family Nights” were happy too. We’d watch West Point Story, eat popcorn and play games, and we always knew that Fridays were our night with you and Dad. Even though you were both busy, I knew you loved us and cared about our needs and wants and emotions. You sacrificed for us—piano lessons were not in the budget, I’m sure—nor were braces!
Dad was an incredibly consistent Christian. Of course, he was not a perfect man, but he came mighty close. When I think about his life from an adult’s vantage point, I realize that he had remarkable integrity. I can’t remember what person the Bible was describing in the verse about there “being no guile in him”, but that was certainly true of Dad. I’ve been so impressed about two refrains in all the notes you’ve received: many people came to know Jesus personally because of Dad, and his life was characterized by Christlikeness.
I think Dad really spoiled me. I hated riding the bus to high school, and generally walked home, carrying not only a significant stack of books, but my rather heavy trumpet as well. But Dad took the time to drive me to school in the mornings. I’m not sure why he did that except for sheer love. Buses were provided after all. But Dad went out of his way to give me a lift to school.
It is really not at all surprising to me that I wanted to enter “full-time Christian ministry”. Obviously, I believe my calling was a divine call, and it certainly was encouraged by the missions-emphasis of Barrington Baptist Church, but it could have been shipwrecked by bad parenting. You and Dad were so committed to serving God, as well as committed to loving us, that I never had any sense of being second-tier importance in your hearts and minds. I knew you were absolutely convinced of the veracity of what you preached, so why would I not want to give my life in just the same way you and Dad had done?
There are lots of childhood memories. Poor Dad when you tricked him by pouring water down on him when he roared up the heating shaft in the bathroom to tease us! I have this hazy picture of him in pyjamas making us oatmeal when you were in the hospital having Phil. Then there were Maine vacations, lobster on the back porch, trips to Grandma Madeira’s where we could have free ice cream!
I think my adult memories are also of significance though. It was so wonderful when you and Dad came to visit us in Honduras—offering an opportunity for our young children to get to know you. I saw another Dad when he devoured my Chaim Potok novels; I never thought he might get into such “frivolous reading”.
When we moved back to Charlton, MA, God gave us the amazing and remarkable gift of living near you and being mentored by you and Dad. It was such a source of encouragement and pleasure to be able to drop the children off at school on Monday mornings and come down and visit you. We’d sit with the sunlight streaming through the dining room windows and drink coffee and eat cardamom bread. Sometimes there’d be ministry issues to discuss, but sometimes it was just enough to be together. What a luxury (little did I realize it then!) to be able to take so many walks to see the boats at Haines Park or walk on the bike path together. What a treat to take a picnic lunch to Colt Park and smell the sea and enjoy the sound of the surf and the wind.
Dad retired from Barrington Baptist and assumed the position of director of Seminary of the East—Worcester. Since I was the office administrator of the Seminary, I got to see Dad at least once a week, and often more times than that. Dad would often come to stay overnight on Thursdays, as the school day started early on Friday. We’d sit and watch Jeopardy together in the evening, and head off to work early the next day. I loved seeing Dad relate with warmth, humility and genuine caring towards the students—and they adored him. I loved having the chance to eat lunch with him, or just enjoy a cup of coffee together.
Working as closely as I did with Dad, though, meant that I saw those first uneasy twinges of the Alzheimer’s that was to entrap him so severely. Instead of mingling with students and faculty, he became withdrawn and unsure of himself. Our Monday morning visits with you did not have quite the same carefree quality they had had in earlier days. Over time, we had to assist you in caring for this lovely man, and help you move from the home where you had lived for more than 40 years. Those were painful days, but bittersweet in that we had the opportunity to show Dad the kind of care and love he had lavished on us for so many years.
I absolutely hated the effect Alzheimer’s had on Dad. At the same time, I think we experienced a “severe mercy” because Dad never lost his essence of love and gentleness. How pleased I was that he remembered Jim (“Jim who?”) for so long. And how wonderful to feel, even the last time I saw him, that he knew I was someone special, even if he couldn’t quite ascertain who that special person was.
Emmylou says that you kept Dad’s personality alive, and she is absolutely right. You have been an example of selfless care and love for over 13 years now. It awes me, that even in the midst of exhaustion, you never seemed to realize that caring for Dad and keeping him as engaged as possible, took tremendous energy. So I do not only give tribute to Dad, but I give tribute to you as well. I am so grateful to God for giving me parents like you and Dad who so beautifully exemplified what Christ did for us in laying down his life. I love you both.
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