The American Medical Association called today.
They want to honor Dad along with about twenty other physicians. They want to honor him for his more than fifty years of exemplary service to the medical profession. There will be a dinner and a presentation.
Their invitation came a year or two too late. I explained Dad's condition and the difficulty it would create to try and allow him to attend the dinner. But I asked that they go ahead and send me the letter of commendation and the award so that I could present it to him.
There won't be any pomp and circumstance. It will probably be me and my Dad alone in his room as I tell him that he was a great physician, and I'm not the only one who thinks so.
I hung up the phone after speaking to the American Medical Association and I cried. I sobbed big alligator tears. I'm sad that he can't go and receive his award. I'm sad that he probably wouldn't even remember it if he could go. I'm sad that he doesn't remember the specific ways he changed hundreds of lives.
But praise be to God whose rewards are eternal, and will not be forgotten. Dad is in His care, and the crowns he will receive one day will far surpass the joy of this earthly reward.