There is another image of my father resting that I cannot separate from the creek.

It came during the last week of his life.

I spent a good bit of time with him in the hospital. I tried to play music I thought he would enjoy. I thought the songs might bring him comfort.

And we did sing together.

I still have a video of us singing “Jesus the Nazarene” while he was lying in that hospital bed.

But looking back, I think he took more comfort in quietness.

And in presence.

His sons were there.

After a lifetime of working, providing, carrying responsibility, and making life possible for his family, maybe he simply wanted to be near the men his sons had become.

Then the call came that the tumor had ruptured again.

He was back in intensive care.

The scene was surreal, but strangely peaceful. The doctor and nurses stood at his bedside and explained the truth. They could put him under and go through the process again, but because of his age and the location of the tumor, it would likely happen again.

So they gave him a choice.

Try again.

Or rest.

It was as if he was by the creek again.

He had done what he could do.

He had lived a good life.

He had provided life for his sons and for generations to come.

He was not perfect. No father is.

But he was honorable.

And I remember what he said:

“We’ll just trust God for the future.”

Within moments, medicine was given to make him comfortable, and my father slipped away from this life.

There was surrender in that moment.

There was courage.

There was faith.

There was the peace of a man who had carried what he could carry, provided what he could provide, and trusted that the same God who sustained him through life would sustain him in death.

I understand the creek better now.

And I understand my father better too.

The DKP Word 2026
davidkpayne.com
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