My Dad, Grant S. Dial died before he was able to meet Todd. We were living on Whidbey Island, WA. My Mom and Dad lived in CA. Todd was born on December 1, 1980. Quite soon after, in fact, exactly 20 days after Todd's birth his Father came home and told me to pack. Our family was moving to the Philippine's. I was less than happy! However, this post is not about my feelings concerning this move.
This post is about a discovery, which I made today. I was able to post some new pictures of my Little Irish Three. Included in these pictures is a picture of my youngest child, Todd with his newborn son, Kieran. When I looked at this picture, I was absolutely startled. In all of Todd's life, I had failed to notice something very important.
Todd has my Father's eyes. Perhaps, I never noticed because Todd's eyes are more blue, and my Dad's eyes more green. In the large picture, which is posted below, if I hold my hand over the bottom half of Todd's face, I am directly looking into my Daddy's eyes.
My Dad died about 3 months after Todd's birth. We were moving to the Philippine's in March of 1981.
On Wednesday, February 18, 1981, I had an intense feeling that I was to go home to CA immediately. I called my Mother who told me that nothing was wrong. She confirmed that my Dad who had suffered most of my life with MS was doing great. Therefore, there was no need for me to come home at this time. She reminded me that we would be in CA in less than three weeks as we were stopping in CA to say good-bye to my parents on our way to the Philippine's. I was very insistent about my feeling of coming home then, I meant that day. Mama continued to say that everything was alright and that I didn't need to come home early. I was so insistent about going home, that she even had my Dad's Cardiologist, Dr. Ligouri call me. Dr. Ligouri told me that my Dad was doing fine. There was absolutely no need for me to come home that day. He told me that Daddy was well and that Daddy was excited to see my two new sons, Steven and Todd. Even though, everyone told me that my Dad was just fine, I never was comfortable. It seemed that March could not get here fast enough. I was so uneasy. I called several times within the next 36 hours. Each time, I was told my Daddy was doing fine. I was even told perhaps, I was having some sort of post partum anxiety attack and needed to call my OB for some medication.
Two days later on Friday, February 20, 1981, at six o'clock in the morning I received a call from Dr. Ligouri. Very softly he whispered, "Lana, I am very sorry to deliver this sad information. Your Father suffered a cardiac arrest about 30 minutes ago. Your Father has died." My Dad died exactly 2 years, 8 months, and 5 days after the death of my oldest son, Mark.
Jesus gave me the chance to get home and say goodbye to my Father. I was talked out of it. From that day forward, I have listened to Jesus.
So, why am I telling this story? I think that it is important. Not only am I blessed with a new grandson who will carry Marks name, but through Todd, I also saw the happiness in my Father's young eyes.
So Todd, meet your Grandfather Dial. He was a very good man. He really wanted to meet you, and almost had the chance. However, I did not listen.
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