My father has passed from this world. Oval Robert Carder has fought the fight and under God’s providence and Will he has entered eternity. 4/7/2026 just after 11 PM. His wife, Hilda was seated with him and after reading the Psalm 23 to him, he departed. My sister Robin was also present keeping vigil.
We are saddened and resolve to come together as a family to care for and uphold each other.
This journal began as I took my turn spending overnight vigil with Dad. What an honor to witness his final battle as he fought the good fight! It was hardest to see this once strong man be reduced to a fragile and weak man. Yet, perhaps this was shown as his strongest fight! With tears, I publish my story for the purpose of showing through vulnerability that God has a journey awaiting each of us. Please know that my intent is to honor my father not present disrespect or harm. It is my journey and testimony that, hopefully as you read this, you will identify with the story and find peace through your own journey.
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Over the next few entries to this blog, I want to share a few very vulnerable moments in a personal journey that perhaps has taken a lifetime. As I share from my personal journal, I want to say how important is to seek professional and spiritual counsel when faced with areas of grief, hurt, disappointment, and the need for grace.
I have served as a youth pastor, Court Appointed Special Advocate for abused children, as well as a foster parent to young people and I know the importance of being cautious and careful when advising anyone on how to forgiveness. This series of stories are not meant to bring shame or ignore serious concerns related to the issue of forgiveness.
Let’s begin!
As a child, I often wrestled with the hardness of my father’s approach. At times, I mistook his sternness for a lack of love, leaving me with disappointment. I couldn’t grasp the weight he carried—how much he worked for us. As I grew, I began to see his pressures and his intentions. I realized he was doing his best. That journey, from misunderstanding to forgiveness, shaped my relationship with him—and with grace.
There were times when I helped my dad on projects, like working on the car. I remember him asking for tools, and when I didn’t get the right one, his frustration would flare. Though it wasn’t aimed at me, it felt personal, leaving me with pain. I’ll never forget the day we were carrying an engine block. I wasn’t strong enough, and I let go—it dropped on his hand, leaving a deep gash. I braced for his anger, but instead, he grunted, bandaged it, and came back saying, “Let’s do it right this time.” We succeeded, and though I left him with an injury, I saw a glimpse of his patience. In that moment, I felt we both grew a little closer.
As I reflect now, with my father in hospice, these memories surface with new meaning. The urgency of time reminds me how important these layers of forgiveness and grace truly are. What once felt like fear or confusion has, over time, become an understanding that life is complex. As I write this, I’m not only revisiting these moments as a son but as an adult facing the reality of loss.
This series of blog entries begins with the complexities of childhood, grief, and a redemptive message toward the grace I am finding as I walk with my father through his final days. He is 90 years old and facing the greatest challenge of his life, eminent death.
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Read more … Reflections in the Mirror of Fatherhood. (Each chapter will publish on Wednesday at 10:30 AM and every half hour to follow. There are 6 articles.)
