Last week my mom called to tell me that my dad had been rushed to the hospital for chest pain and possibly a heart attack. He has been working on a high-stress project in Longview and had been complaining of chest pain throughout the week.

This was the first time in my adult life that my dad has been hospitalized for something potentially fatal, and it really caught me off guard. Even though my dad is only in his early 60s, I realized that I might only have a few minutes left to talk with him. I also realized how un-empathetic I was towards my wife when her father passed a few years ago, especially when compared to the rush of emotions I was experiencing on the drive up to the hospital.

It took me about 40 minutes to drive up from Portland after letting my boss know I'd be taking the afternoon off. I was the first to arrive at the hospital, which gave Dad and I a chance to talk for a half hour before Mom and my brothers arrived.

At one point I called the nurse in because he started to faint, but fortunately he stabilized after resting for a few minutes.

I tried to crack a couple jokes to keep things light, but it was hard to hold back the tears. Dad motioned for me to come over closer to his bed, and reached out to grasp my arm. He wanted me to know that he loved me, and that he thought I was raising a great family. I appreciated him saying those things, and I could tell he meant them from the bottom of his heart.

Fortunately there's a happy ending to this story. The doctor kept him at the hospital overnight and ran enzyme tests every 3 hours to check if he had a heart attack, but they were able to rule that out. He was released the next day and is back at work this week.

I know that my parents won't live forever, but I wasn't forced to embrace that reality until this incident. I hope they'll have many more years in this life, and I know I'll be spending eternity with them in the next life!