This Marks 3 Years

Just when I feel like it's starting to not hurt as much, my heart sends this suffocating pain to my body, reminding me of what was torn from me. A part of me feels very selfish when I get this way, only because she was never mine to begin with, she was on loan, and her Creator saw fit to take her back. But, of course, my human heart cannot just accept that. I must ache. But I think He wants us to ache, I think if we become numb to it, then the testimony is dying.

Oh, how I miss her. If I close my eyes, I can see her beautiful fat cheeked face smiling up at me. I can feel her soft "blueberry" nose under my finger as I applied medicine to it due to her humangioma. I can smell the lotion that I put on whole body after every bath. I can hear her little squeaks that she would do when you walked by her. There are some things that I will never forget, but my vivid memory of her is starting to fade a little and that breaks my heart even more. Isaiah talks about her all the time, drawing pictures of our "whole" family. Eve doesn't grasp the concept of Sarah........ the concept of Sarah...... that hurts too.
We have another little sister too, now. Teshura Lyn, she'll be 2 months old tomorrow. She's so sweet. She loves her mommy. :) She has some features that look like Sarah and all the others too. I can't wait for the day when we can all sit around the table, talking about Sarah extensively. I dream of the day when my girls will be older and I can share how wonderful their older sister is.

:) I tried to explain how Sarah is Eve and Tesh's older sister, and after about 10 minutes I gave up. He did not understand that Sarah is ALSO their sister, but not just that, that she's their older sister. Again,... concept.

Everything is bittersweet, to every hurt their is a blessing somewhere.
So I embrace my aching, knowing that with pain, comes remembering, and my testimony relies on me remembering.

Turning Point

My turning point in my faith walk was when I watched my father die. Growing up as a little girl in a christian home, I sang "Jesus loves me, this I know...." and I knew He did. But watching life separate itself from this earth into another dimension just blew me away. My 15/16 year old brain was challenged to think and ponder the reality of the spiritual world around me. For the first time, in my life, I was starting to understand the realness of God. Even Christians sometimes take God for granted, like He doesn't exist. When I watched my Dad labor for his life, I saw a glimpse of the fear of God, and the little control we have over situations. Watching the slightest peace to the greatest of peace when I'd witness my Dad's smile peering through his weak eyes, I saw the mercy of God. As Dad unfailingly spoke of God and Jesus to others, even on his death bed, I witnessed a true warrior and saw a glimpse of God's faithfulness.

I had been this little girl, playing in my own little world, and it was as if God took the chin of His child, and turned it toward Him, and asked, " Do you hunger for food?"
I can't say I have been eating "food" ever since, cause sometimes I find myself staring at the milk I'd been drinking. I'll fall asleep and wake with even more hunger pangs. And like always, you have to make sure you aren't eating too much at once, cause your stomach is now smaller than it was. So slowly, but surely, I'll eat food again. But I've never tasted food like that before this experience with my Dad.

I do not feel fatherless, nor will I ever. His legacy will live as long as our family lives.

A word to fathers:

Protect the time, and use the energy for leaving your legacy with your own children. Spend the time it takes to train them for the war that lies ahead. Don't ever assume they've got it, and that they don't need you. "Mom's arms are comfort, but Dad's arms are security." Gary Ezzo

The beauty of it......... God covers it all.

More Journal Entries by Dad

All of these scans are various things I've taken from his journals. There were 3 different journals he wrote in while he was sick, so there is a lot more where this came from.









(3)Who would've thought that this would be so meaningful to us as we start to lose a whole strand of people in our family, after him. Especially near the end of this passage.
(4)The line at the end of this one, is one that he taught us as kids, so we'd be 3 and 4 years old, fumbling through this rule, as we recited it.









This was a long running joke that did in fact come true. Mom had always liked leather, but Dad couldn't stand his skin sitting up against it. So while he was around, he made it so we never owned any leather. So he wrote in his journal, basically giving mom "the green light" to go ahead and get her leather furniture. ...... and she did. :)

The Finishing Touch

At the viewing, I remember sitting, hidden, in the corner of a room, up the stairs away from all the public that was looking onto my Dad's body. Not only do I have a serious phobia of dead bodies, but I needed to be alone, away from everyone. I didn't want to be talked to, or starred at. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and emotions, free to cry as hard as I wanted, free to stare at nothing and not be interrupted. It took a little bit for someone to find me, and I don't even remember who did, but whoever it was, did not understand why I was away, and made me come down to socialize, because "there was people that wanted to see me."

The funeral was just as I imagined it would be, back when we first heard the results of his gall bladder surgery, that there was a tumor. We, as a family, walked down the aisle, with Dad's coffin, closed, right there in front of us. Sad eyes all on us, with my hair pasted to my face from all my tears. The color black, in respect to the grieved. I hate the smell of Easter Lilies. Always have, always will.

I remember the burial ceremony the most. I sat there, in my soft fabric chair staring into the flowers on top of the coffin, that held the man that I will not see ever again here on earth. My high school band instructor, Mrs. Meunier, bless her heart.... she got together, at the last minute, students, my peers, that wanted to volunteer to play a song for this ceremony, because Dad loved the band that much. It was a good sized group, and my brothers and I felt loved because of it. As I sat there, breathing in the air, as the wind dried the tears from my face, listening to the soft sound of the band playing the song, "It Is Well With My Soul". Perfect.... Dad loved this song. It is an unforgettable tune that will stay with me forever.

Afterwards, I spent some time with my friends, back at the church for "food and fellowship". There is only one person that sticks out in my mind, that I saw there. Having played in the band, my Joshua..... well he wasn't mine then, but he was. I was still with my boyfriend, but my heart truly belonged to Joshua. The first time I saw him, 2 years before this, I fell in love. I was a little surprised to see him, since we hadn't talked much at all before this point, but his presence there made it more meaningful to me than he will ever understand. I remember getting a little hug from him, that made me melt. Of course, all of that, made my boyfriend a little jealous, but I didn't care. In fact, I became ruthless with that boyfriend, due to the way he had treated me all these horrible months. I dumped him a week after Dad died. I'm sure that was hard on him, due to him knowing my Dad from being with me, but I did "have a good head on my shoulders" and knew he was not "the one".

From that moment I mainly saw Josh at school in Woods class and band, later joined the Free Delivery crew. I actually did have another boyfriend before I finally landed Joshua... .. Bub.
I met Bub through my brothers, and he had joined Free Delivery. Bub treated me like a princess, respected me for my ways, and understood fully what it was like to lose a parent. It was nice having someone to talk to, that could appreciate everything you said. He was a lot younger when his mom died, he was 7, but he knew the grief and struggle of living without them. After Bub and I broke things off, he stayed with Free Delivery, and we stay good friends. To this day, he has a special place in my heart for being such a support for me in my grief with Dad, and treating me like the princess I deserved to be still, even though I didn't always feel like one. I'm told, he's off sky diving, these days:)

Going back to my family.... I remember mom, consistently falling to the ground, with her face planted in the floor of the house, crying out, "why!!!" as she desperately tried to learn things or do things that she had never had to do before. She threw herself into Free Delivery, making it everything that it possibly could be, she really did a good job with managing. The band had a good run for 3 years, before we all decided to call it quits and go our separate ways.

Here's a scan of the letter that Dad wrote to me in his bible that he gave me before he died. I treasure it always.

I understood it then, but I understand it even more now.

I'll Never Forget The Air

The reclining chair that I feel asleep in was so uncomfortable, I awoke trying to reposition myself so I could get back to sleep. Because of the unfamiliarity of the place, I was having a hard time getting back to sleep. I had forgotten where I was, and fear was creeping in at the thought of "this is where people die" I laid there for about 5 minutes, watching all my siblings sleep, listening to the clock's tick.

All of the sudden, the night nurse came into the living room, and went straight to the eldest of us,.... Angie. I watched her every move, trying to wake Angie up. I sat straight up, and asked, " What's wrong?" She replied, "It's time for you to go in there."
By that time, Angie had woken up, for the nurse to repeat herself in instructing her to wake everyone up, to go to the room.
I raced out of the living room, through an entrance way, and down the hall, leaving my sister behind me to wake everyone else up. My pace got slower as I approached the doorway. I noticed it was quiet, but I figured Dad's breathing got way slower, and that he was, in fact, going to die soon.

I entered the room to find Mom knelt on her knees beside the bed, with her head on Dad's shoulder. She was crying, silently.
My eyes met Dad's hand, that was not being held. I wanted him to know I was there. I went to hold his hand, gently, but quickly.
What I felt.......... I'll never forget. ...
His hand was ice cold-

I ripped my hand away, in a freight, not expecting him to feel that way. I was not stupid, I knew what that meant. He was gone........

I stood back, in shock with tears welling up in my eyes. My brothers and sisters made it to the room, hearing my mom crying a little louder now. It was like dominoes, as everyone came in, one by one, they fell in tears, realizing... he was gone...

I came to the other side of him, and sat down. My brother Noah was on the same side, crying. I'm not sure I had ever really seen either of my brother's tears like this. We all grabbed at each other, clinging to each other as we sobbed the greatest cry we had ever experienced. I grabbed Noah from behind, he hugged me back, and we cried together. I remember catching Angie's eyes, we both looked at each other being able to read the grief on eachother's faces.

After a while, there were various people coming in and out. Mom told us what happened. She said that the nurse was "doing rounds" and when she checked on Dad, he looked good and the same, comfortable. After she had checked on others, she came down his hall going back to her main station, she noticed the silence. It hadn't been but 10 or 15 min. since she saw him last. She evaluated him, seeing that he had indeed, died. She woke sleeping Mom up, to break the heart- crushing news of her husband. That's when she came into the living room, to wake Angie to get all of us.

I had realized then, that I must have woken up very close to the time of his death, not being able to get back to sleep. I remembered my feelings of wanting to be there when he died, but at the last minute, not wanting to witness it. But I also, didn't want to miss it either. It was complicated, but it all worked out in the way it was supposed to be.
I believe he wanted just Mom with him, but with her at a peaceful hour as well, for she WAS asleep. He wanted all of us kids near, but not to witness that last breath. And I got a little piece that I wanted,...... to not miss it... for I DID wake up, ... on my own... almost to the minute.

After crying for, what seemed like forever, my Uncle John Madison offered to take... us... home. That was an odd concept for me to be faced with. That it was over, and time to go home. All 5 of us kids packed into his car, with the top down:) I remember sitting in the back, in the middle, before we took off... feeling the air. It was moist, and slightly foggy. When you breathed it in, it felt like medicine for your lungs. My eyes and face hurt so bad from crying, but the coolness of that air soothed my face, like an angel was caressing my face with a cool heavenly cloth. It was healing, both my face and my heart, and started to soothe my soul.

We started driving off. In that car ride, there was a combination of crying, silence, and laughter. On the interstate, it was so foggy, and we saw, in the sky a ring of lights. It curiously frightened all of us as we were all gazing at this site. I think we looked at it for a good 2 whole minutes before we found out that it was a fancy street light. That got us chuckling at each other for awhile. And it started, ...... "if only Dad could've seen that one."

We arrived at our house..... the sun was just starting to rise, making it easier to see through the fog. I was looking at the house, thinking, "this is it..... this is what it feels like to be fatherless, coming home without him"

I breathed again.... that medicine air.... I'll never forget the air.

The Six Knots

Soon we were following an ambulance down the interstate, that was holding the man I already missed. I think we all got to the point that we quit begging God for his life, but for his peace.... to go home, .... to stop this suffering. We were all so worn from this experience. Mom hadn't slept barely at all. She would be up, day and night cleaning after him, waiting on him like the most devoted wife I've ever seen. It was beautiful, but heartbreaking. It was September 1st.

When we arrived at the Kavanagh House, Dad was wheeled in on his bed, saying, "Can we do that again?" We all settle him in his simple room. I noticed there were tons of tissue boxes everywhere in the whole building. The nurses showed us the kitchen, the living room with of course, the puzzles:), and then brought us back to Dad's room, where he laid, looking the same as what he looked like in the hospital. My sisters left to be with their husbands and kids for a little bit. The head doctor wanted to talk to us all in a different room, away from Dad, so we all gave him hugs and walked out the door into the living room. A nurse sat with him as we were away.

We all sat in the living room with this very nice doctor lady and she explained to us what was about to happen. She said that they would stop his IV because that would just keep his body trying to work. She talked about pain medication, that they would be able to give him as much as he needed in order to feel no pain. She warned us of "the last burst of energy" that happens before they die, she gave us some examples. We wondered what Dad would do for that. She said that there is this burst of energy that makes them do things that they wouldn't be able to do in their condition, and shortly after that, they pass.
By the end of our meeting, it was about 6pm, a nurse came in and calmly said, "you guys need to come and see this."
Mom rushed down the hall, in a frantic, we followed including the doctor. We all shuffled in the room in silence, looking down on the oddest site of my father. We gazed at him and the nurse started to explain what happened. She said that they had started the pain med. for him, and he was resting, but he, all of the sudden, became agitated, it seemed. He sat up, tying the single sheet that was on him into knots.

She asked him, " Joe? What are you doing?"
He replied, "How many are there?"
She counted. "Six",
he said, "ok, I'm done. I'm making their life lines." He laid down pulling the sheet over him, exposing his legs and arms, but covering the main part of his body. The nurse, because he was sweating and seemed to be hot, pulled the sheet off of his chest and belly, to give him some air, but he grabbed at it again and pulled it back up to where it was. She left it...and he instantly fell asleep into a coma and that's when she came to get us.

This site was holy. You could tell because we stood in awe, with frozen tears. He was in a different place, and the crinkles on his forehead were gone. With the sheet laying on him, like it was, he looked like Jesus. He did, indeed, have six knots in his bed sheet. Two at his right shoulder, one at his left. One at his right hip, two at his left. We knew that each one was for each of us, his wife and five kids. It took Mom a few more minutes to find this, but she found that the knots were put in the exact shape of her mothers ring, she loves so much. He was famous for doing things like that in the past. So she knew, that is what he meant to do, when he kept pulling that sheet on him, in that manner. I soon went out of the room, crying my eyes out. I knew this was that burst of energy. I knew that it was not going to be long at all. I headed straight for the House phone and called my sisters, telling them that they needed to come back. I told them what Dad did, and that he going to go soon. They both made it back within the hour, so they saw for themselves.

I wrote a song that night, called, "Six Knots of Love" for Free Delivery to someday perform. It was telling this story of this night. My Uncle John Madison brought his guitar, so we put the words to music, and Noah was there to learn the chords. Before we knew it, it was late, and time for bed.

Dad was still in his coma, breathing slowly, but loudly. You could hear it down the hall. Mom was there not leaving his side. All five kids camped out in the living room. For some reason, I couldn't be in there tonight. The eeriness of Dad's coma, frightened me to the point of not wanting to sleep in there. I realized I really didn't want to be there, when he died. My mom convinced Seth to sleep in there with her. He kept saying he wanted to be out there with all of us, but she held onto him. The light was on, she sighed that tired sigh, and said, "Seth? Can you turn the light off, I forgot?" He huffed as he looked at that light, but it slowly dimmed on it's own. Mom said, "That was weird.... maybe it burnt out or something." That made Seth very nervous. Then the nurse came in and flipped on the light to check on Dad. Seth bolted out, "Sorry mom, I'm sleeping out there." She understood and let him go. The nurse said he looked comfortable, checking to see if Mom agreed, she checked his vitals and left the room.

We all got as comfortable as we could and went to sleep.
and for the first time... Mom fell asleep.... . sound asleep.....

Watching Him Breathe

I have no pictures for you, for this moment. It is all in my memory..... those 2 weeks ..... those last 2 weeks in the hospital. School was in session, but I couldn't bring myself to be there. I didn't want to leave him. I wanted to be here... where he was..... soaking in every last minute I had with him.
There was a cot I slept on, and just outside of his room was a nice secluded waiting area with tables full of huge puzzles. (of course:) I remember my brothers and I putting together so many puzzles. That's how the time went by, as various family visited... coming to see Dad.
Dad did not look good. He was as pale and frail as anything I've ever seen. He had rings under his eyes. He had a lazy eye that came out whenever he was tired, but now, it was permanently half down his eye. He had so many tubes coming out of his body, but somehow managed to move, just a little. He had a tube coming out his nose that when to his stomach. He was not allowed to eat anything, but the nurses let him suck on life savers. We would watch the fluids coming out of his nose change colors to whatever he was sucking on. That was pretty neat, I guess.
The surgeon told us that he was full of tumors at this point, the oncologists said we could start another round of chemo, but it would only give him a little more time. That round was the round that he was warned against, by his late friend, who had passed away from the same thing. Dad looked at Mom, Mom looked at Dad. They knew that this was the end. That the fight was over, and that now all that mattered was keeping Dad comfortable so he could die peacefully. They called Hospice and requested a room for him at a Kavanagh House.
While still at the hospital, we waited...... we all sat talking, laughing, crying, whatever we felt. My Uncle Ed came by with a small slab of wet cement. We had Dad imprint his hand on there, so then when we got the new driveway put in, we could put his hand print in there somewhere.
Dad would sneak a sip of Diet Pepsi, (his favorite) just so he could once again, and maybe for the last time, taste something nice in his mouth. His health didn't matter so much anymore, just his pain. I remember his forehead was permanently crinkled because of his pain, but he was too weak to complain too much. The hospital could only do so much pain meds with him.

Have you ever watched someone breathe? Except your baby, have you ever watched someone breathe? Waiting to witness their chest never to rise again? I remember sitting their, right by his side, my eyes glued to his chest as he slept, going up..... going down..... ever so slowly... . then he would open his eyes enough to catch me staring at him, and he'd crack a smile. I remember in one of those last moments asking him, "Dad,..... who do want me to marry?" At the time, I had a boyfriend. He didn't treat me very well, didn't respect me, but I held onto him because I didn't want to be alone. I put up with him, cause I couldn't discern any better because I was so consumed in Dad. I asked Dad if he wanted me to marry that boy, and he answered....
"Kailan, " he put his hand on mine... " You have a good head on your shoulders... I trust that you"ll find the right person. I trust you..." I laid my head on his shoulder with tears in my eyes, as I held the freedom that he just gave me, clinging to his opinion of trusting me. My dad trusted me, that was a big deal in a lot of ways.

It was a day or two later, that the ambulance was ready to take him to that House. The House that he was to die in, the House that he (and we all) would finally have peace in..... well that is what we all hoped.

It was it, there was no looking back. We saw the final flame, but we somehow managed to keep walking forward, straight into it. We could feel the heat from it, but we picked up our shields of faith, and put on our war faces.

Last Full Ruppert Family Pictures

This picture was taken about 3 weeks before he died. The whole family was there taking pictures. We got our last full family pictures that day. And then each one of us with him alone. Even my best friend Megan made it in town from California this day, to share in these pictures. When we were 13, her dad could no longer take care of her due to an illness he had, she lived with us for a little while, we almost adopted her. Then the mom she barely knew demanded she come to live with her, we could not deny her that right, so off she went, coming back to visit as often as she was able.
For as long as I can remember Mom and Dad were taking in somebody. Whether it be friends of ours that needed a safe place to live, or foster care. They had made such an impact on so many lives, and taught us kids that you never turn away someone in need. Today, I am very sensitive to that about people and I owe that to the example both of my parents set before us.

The question "Do you need to grow old to complete your service to our King?" was answered in these short 6 months. Certainly not....... so be ready for anything. Be willing to embrace any and every situation to help and serve others. From opening a door for someone or helping them find a specific book in the store..... to taking someone into your home when in need and being that mentor for life.

There were lots of tears this day, thoughts went through our heads of "this is it". How did we know it? When you're in it as deep as we were, there comes a point when you just know, that there's not much time left. I remember my oldest sister Angie was 3-4 months pregnant with her second child. That was hard for all of us to accept, the fact that Dad won't be here for all the other grandchildren to come. A huge feeling of jealousy would overcome me at times because not only would I not have him here for my babies, but my future husband will never have the pleasure of meeting this man in my life. My Daddy would not be there to sift through my boyfriends and give consent for marriage. Little did I know that he had already met my future husband, in fact my husband's whole family had been introduced to him almost 2 years before this moment.

We knew what was about to happen, but didn't know how we were going to get through it. But what mattered more than all those things, is that we knew why we were going to get through it. Because God gave us this job to do. .... to make it through this in order that people see Jesus when they look at us. We knew that God would give us strength, but we didn't how He'd make us stand. We knew He would give us courage in the face of death, but didn't know how we'd be able to even breathe. We knew somehow He'd comfort us, even when our tears seemed endless.

So I say again, whether or not we knew what was about to happen, we didn't know how we would get through it, but held on to why we were going to go through this fire. Because HE wanted us to, and that's all that matters in the end.

Always a Child Involved Somehow

Little 5 year old Taylor, what a blessing she is. The doctors had found a tumor in her head, when her parents brought her in concerned about her headaches and the fact that she would vomit and then they'd get better. Right away, the doctor's operated on her head, removing the tumor, and then she endured rounds of chemo, to keep the cancer from coming back. This little girl grew skinny and frail, taking every ounce of energy her parents had to care for her. I remember my mom being somewhat of a comfort to her mother, for they were good friends. My mom used to provide daycare for them, and when she stopped doing that, I would occasionally babysit. So we knew the family well.

Taylor got sick before Dad got sick, so when Taylor learned of the news of Dad having to go through chemo, her face lit up, and she said," Joe, now we can do chemo together!" She would talk to him about her experiences, seemingly trying to help him with his nerves about it all. He thought she was a doll.

It's amazing, again, how a child puts things into the right perspective. For her, it wasn't about the chemo, it was about the fellowship that they would be doing it together, and her concern for comforting him in that way. It gives me chills just thinking about her wonderful heart. It was so transparent with her innocence.

We were all so concerned about her health for so long, but as she got better, he got worse, of course. God still had plans for her on this earth, whereas Dad's job was coming to a close.

She is a beautiful young woman now, full of smiles every time I see her. I will always remember the lesson that she taught all of us during our experience with Dad's suffering. She was that little light that illuminated the dark room that we would sometimes find ourselves in.

Matthew 5:14-16
(Jesus speaking to the multitudes)
"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill can not be hidden. Nor do men light a lamp, and put it under the peck-measure, but on the lampstand; and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven."

1 John 2:8
"On the other hand, I am writing a new commandment to you, which is true in Him and in you, because the darkness is passing away, and the true light is already shining."

....... already shining.....

Living in a Waiting

Watching Dad being incredibly sick was harder than words. Nobody knew what was going to happen the next week or month. All we knew was that there was this invisible ticking clock that we could hear and could not turn off. It wasn't us that turned it on. No power. No power to fix what was going wrong.

I remember one night, being closed up in my room, it was very late at night, I was half asleep, and I could hear Dad struggling, as if he were trying to vomit or maybe to breathe, but I could hear it. I could also hear my mom asking my Dad what she needed to do, in a panic. Then they left, without warning. I found out later that my Dad's long time suffering asthma was acting up so bad, and that he had not had his inhaler, for some reason. They ended up going to the store, down the block, and mom threw her purse at the manager, pleading for directions for an inhaler. Without paying for it, she ran to Dad and gave it to him. After he was able to breathe, she went back in, took her purse back, and paid for that life saving device. I remember feeling so guilty that I stayed in bed and did not help. Never again, will that happen, I thought. Even though it was not cancer-related, I remember thinking and asking God, "Isn't he suffering enough?"

I have a very charismatic uncle that came to our house to speak with us about the fact that if we had enough faith and prayed that it would heal him. With the groundedness that our family had, his message was not very well accepted. In fact, it felt like an accusation. We knew satan was just trying to put guilt in our hearts for not "having enough faith"

I have learned through my experience with Dad that there are people whom God decides to heal, but there are also people whom God decides to take. There are always reasons. Dad always taught us that.... for God.... if it means taking one life to save many others, or even just one.... then it's worth it to Him. I understood it when he said it, but knew the heartache that we were going to have to go through just for another's soul. That's what was hard to accept. It's hard to love others when grieving someone, BUT

In order to grieve successfully, you have to be selfless. Cause only then, can you find your "Why?"

As we went through all this, we knew people (souls) were watching us, seeing what we would do, watching our decisions, some waiting for us to fall, some holding us up so if we do fall... there will be little damage. I'm not sure if anyone was convinced that we would all push through this. Maybe a few who knew us really well. Like our close-knit family.

Although he was so sick, we still wanted to have as much fun with him as possible. So we'd go traveling, within Iowa, seeing places where he grew up, him telling us more stories.
At home he'd have to sleep quite a bit. He would get exhausted very fast. There was once where he was trying to fix our toilet (He's Mr. Fix-It) and he fell asleep doing it, right on the floor. We took a picture thinking it was funny, but at the same time... sad. He was weakening, never to return to the strong man he once was.... well not until he meets his Maker, that is.

There was unfinished remodeling in the basement that had to be finished. Dad was intent on making sure that got done, but knowing he could not do it. So he called his best friend, Uncle John Cratty, to come and take over. He brought more guys in to help, and the project got done before his eyes, satisfying that need to provide his family adequate rooms for his growing teenagers. It was a two bedroom house, but with those basement rooms it turned into a five bedroom. I remember him being so greatful to his faithful friend, as he watched Uncle John work like a dog. Dad told Uncle John to see to it that we are taken care of after he dies, and of course, he painfully agreed.

One of Dad's life verses, was from John 16:33, (NLT, Dad's bible)
"In this world, there will be tribulation, but be of good cheer for I have overcome the world."

Easter in the hospital

With Dad's surgeries and all, he was in the hospital quite a bit. We knew none of these surgeries would save him, but they would simply make less pain for him, or prolong the inevitable.

We spent his last Easter in the hospital. We went outside and did an easter egg hunt with the 3 grandchildren that he had. The only 3 that he would physically on earth be able to enjoy. There was Ashley, who was about 3 at the time. Then Madison, who we called Maddie, was 2, and then there was Dylan, who was just a baby about 5 months old by that time.
I always envied my sisters for what they were able to do with Dad. He was able to walk them down the aisle, and enjoy their babies being born. I, on the other hand, had no choice but to live with my reality, that I would not get those things with Dad here. But nevertheless I tried to enjoy Dad as much as I could, soaking up every moment with him, trying hard to engrave memories in my head, so I will never forget them. It's so hard looking into the eyes of someone you love so dearly, knowing that they will soon not be here with you anymore.

Ever since Dad got sick, I started really thinking about God and Jesus, and how real all of it is. As children, we just believe it so quickly cause that's what we were taught. But it's not till you come to a certain maturity that you start the ponder the reality of the spiritual world. Dad's being sick did that for me. I was realizing that this man that I love and do not want to let go of, will soon be standing in front of the face of God. That he will be dancing with Jesus. He will know things that none of us know here on Earth, cause he will be THERE. In Heaven, on that celestial shore.

I have lived with much fear cause I am one that thinks I'm never good enough. I'm constantly questioning my salvation, not because I haven't prayed the prayer with an honest heart, cause I have, but because of my doubt. I have some John the Baptist in me, and I have doubting Thomas in me. The John the Baptist in me will die by my principles, or His principles, I should say. And the doubting Thomas in me, questions not necessarily God but myself. Am I truly saved? Am I going to be the one that stands on Judgement Day, thinking that I'm in, and HE sends me away, saying, "Depart from me, I never knew you." ?? You would think that with all the energy I waste pondering my own worth, that I would not doubt. I just doubt in a different way, I guess.
I've had to come to the conclusion that;
First off, I do believe there is God, and Jesus is the Son of God, and there's the Holy Spirit, and I anally believe that I shall obey His commandments and try to daily.
I think where I get off track is my heart. My heart is not always so loving. Sometimes it is hard for me to love. And THAT is what makes me feel like I am not good enough. Because as the ever-so-popular verses read in 1 Corinthians 13: "if I do not love I am nothing."
Satan tells me lies.... that I am nothing.....
but he has no power over me. ...... when Jesus died on that cross, for my sins, and then rose again to his new life while defeating death....... my Savior made it so Satan has no power over me.

I need to get over myself, thinking about me, and keep my eyes on my King, for I am His bond servant forever.

First and Final Honeymoon

My dad was famous for his love of storms in our family. When it rained, he'd make sure to be a part of it in someway, whether he be out in his garage working or just simply sitting and listening to the rain fall. He'd have his radio going, listening to any alerts. He made storms fun for all of us, and only if there was no lightning, he would let us run out in the rain and we'd all get soaked. I loved that. Getting soaked by rain is the most funnest thing. We'd get soaked, then come in and change our clothes, and cuddle up in heavy blankets, to get nice and warm. It was a tradition to watch the sky when a storm was coming. This love that he had, completely rubbed off on me. I love rain and storms and gloomy days. They bring a smile to my face and always make me think of him. anyway-
Seattle is known to be notorious for rain. When my mom and dad knew that he was not going to be here for much longer, they crammed in the time to take their honeymoon. They never got a real one, cause there were kids to take care of, and I was born shortly after, then twins, and then life never stopped. Well, they forced life to stop due to Dad's illness, so they went on that honeymoon that they never got to take. Where, you ask? The City of Rain...... Seattle.

When they got there they had to rent a vehicle. The first vehicle that was chosen for them was a convertible with leather seats. Dad hated it, so Mom had to sacrifice her dream car for a normal car with normal material. Then Dad was comfy and happy. It was a well-known thing that Dad hated leather seats, even with furniture, but Mom loved it all, but Mom had to sacrifice it, because Dad couldn't stand it. So they were off...... they went all around Seattle, with many sitting breaks because of Dad's pain in his legs. They saw the famous Space Needle, they rode on a boat, they spent some time at a beach full of Dad's favorite skipping rocks. I had told him to bring me back a shell, but there was no shells in sight. Only skipping rocks and sand. They went through this City of Des Moines, of course Dad got pictures.

I don't know exactly what went on in that trip, but I do know that they salvaged as much as they could of the trip. Trying to breathe in every moment, as Mom probably cried behind many of the scenes. I couldn't imagine being in her place. Knowing you will be a widow very soon, and the man you so much love, will not be with you. Yes, of course, she shall see him again, but as her brother.

For me, that's the hardest thing to think about when you think about dying. I love my husband so much that I would want to be forever one with him. And the thought of not being his wife, but his sister, is, honestly, unnerving. But I have to trust my Creator and Savior, when He says that we will be in paradise with Him.

Back to Mom and Dad: They were ready to come home when it was all over. Did the trip live up to their expectations?? Of course, NOT. IT DID NOT RAIN........ not one drop..... isn't it ironic? ( I love that song) anyway, they came home, however, to thunderstorms and tornado warnings, so much so, that we feared their safe arrival home. They couldn't believe it, that they came home to what they were pursuing elsewhere. That sets things up for a good analogy too.

Expectations in places other than home. Do not go pursuing things of this world when this world is not our home. This world will die. You should be pursuing things of our home, things of the heavenly realm, pursue God and Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, because in these things we will have our eternal treasure. In these things we will have peace and hope and love, .... the things that truly matter. If you must chase the rain, chase it well. So well that you get yourself ahead of the storm, so you will be prepared for what lies ahead, lest it trample you.



Dad found one little 1/2 in. clam shell and brought it home to me. It was the only one he could find. I treasured that for many years until one day I found it shattered into many pieces. It broke my heart, but just like him, I had to let it go, and not hold onto things I can not keep. That is one of the hardest things about being human.

But as always it continues to rain..... healing my soul with it's cool, fresh water from heaven.

fREe deLIVEry

If there is one thing that I can say Dad did NOT give us, it was our talent in music. :) that would be from my mother's side. BUT, they both, were extremely supportive in that they loved hearing their children's music.

I remember the first moments of Free Delivery. Dad was at the hospital and Noah was fiddling around on my keyboard, finding a talent that he had for rhythm and music. God has given me the gift to sing, so I love to sing and would attempt to write songs growing up but none of them were good enough, of course. But Noah and I wrote a song that night. We all were already in band at school. I played the flute, Noah played trumpet, and Seth was a percussionist. So when Noah and I were making this song, Seth got together different articles, such as Tupperware, due to him not owning an actual drum set, made a drum set. We all three were playing together, making the first fruits of music, the beginning of another chapter of our lives that we would remember for the rest of our lives.
Noah was soon learning to play guitar, so he did not keep playing keyboard, but stayed on guitar for any music that we collaborated. Our first song was entitled, "Believe". It was the foundation of our ministry band, and the reason that we even had the strength to do so. We found it healing to actively share our sufferings with others, to let them know, that there is a God. A God who loves, and gives strength to anyone seeking it. "..... All you have to do..... is believe." ( a line to that song)
Mom and Dad were so proud of us, so they had us perform it for church, and Dad got to see it. Everyone was amazed at our strength, including us. Seth, Noah, and I became very close through all of the working together in our music. We all had talent in different areas, and you put those differences together, and we were unstoppable. Sure we had our quirks now and then, due to the fact that we were brother and sister, but we worked it out. We gained members fairly quickly, filling in the holes. With Bub on lead guitar, who was already so talented. With Jered on the bass, after a temporary bassist before him. And then Devin, the keyboardist, my boyfriend at the time. The picture above has everyone in it. Seth had gotten a real drum set when Mom and Dad realized how serious he was. Seth, too, became one of the best drummers I know.

Playing music, for those boys, was there outlet of expressing themselves in a way as pure as anything. For me, singing was my outlet, being heard because I had a voice that needed to be heard because of our trial. We, together, found an avenue to release a lot of our grief, because in reality, we were already grieving Dad, preparing for his death, not knowing when it would happen. This was our healthy distraction. Keeping our minds focused on the bigger picture. Through our songs we were able to profess our faith, and hopefully, teach anyone willing to listen that no matter where you are in life, no matter what you are going through, God will be watching over you, Jesus will be holding you, and the Spirit will guide you and give you peace.

We didn't have a name at first. I don't even remember what we were looking at for names. But we were riding along in the car, one day. Dad had just had surgery on something, and so he was pretty doped up. We were all talking about names for the band, then Dad started to chuckle. He said, " I just figured out what the band name should be!" he chuckles some more. We, of course, were very eager to hear what he had to say, especially since we would love it if he came up with the name.
"Free Delivery" he said. We all looked at each other, with smiles on our faces. We all talked about how profound that was with the meaning behind it. How Jesus died for us, and now we are free to be delivered, and that the price has been paid. We loved it, so everyone agreed unanimously, to name the band, Free Delivery. We also pointed out the RE LIVE inside it. We thought it was so creative.
We had asked Dad how he had thought of that. He replied, pointing down the road, "Oh...... I just saw it on that Chinese Delivery truck."
That had us all laughing.

Unexpected Tragedy Awaiting

What was around the corner came up out of the blue. We were living our normal lives, and nothing could have prepared us for what we were about to endure. I had no tools in life to help me through what would be the hardest thing I had to go through yet. My life, as I knew it, was going to change. I was a piece of coal unknowingly getting ready to be pressed into a diamond.
This picture of me and Dad with my first band letter was taken my freshman year....several months before the storm broke. I was 15.

I remember this particular Thanksgiving, we went down to Texas to visit my grandparents. Dad started feeling sick that week, and never got better.
I remember not thinking too much about it, but it persisted, giving him pain in his abdomen. He was seen by doctors who could not figure out what was causing the pain. He went 3 months in unsolvable pain. The search ended when the doctor found that his gall bladder was not working properly. Then he prepared for surgery. Us kids went to school, anticipating his relief, from the outcome of this surgery. I remember telling my boyfriend, at the time, that I was worried for some reason. He told me not to worry, but I couldn't shake this feeling of uneasiness about what was going on with my dad. Something didn't add up in my brain.

Our aunt picked us up from school, a little early too, which is always cool for a kid. She took us to the hospital to see Dad. She acted normal, asking us normal, "so how was school?" questions. When we got to the hospital, we came through the main doors, and there, my Uncle Ed, was standing, waiting for us, to show us where our dad was. He smiled at us, but I remember the look in his eyes. They were so sad, like he was fighting back tears. I began to hold my breath, as we followed his slow walk to the elevator going up to Dad's room. The boys still as hyper as ever, but I was quiet, observing every moment of what would be hints towards what was about to happen.

We got to the floor, my sisters were already there, and mom was coming down the hall to hug us, all her welcome hugs she always gives. I could tell she had been crying. My sisters even seemed gloomy. Something was definitely wrong. Mom lead all of us kids into this private family room, to talk to us. I remember feeling a little more suspicious when we did that, thinking why don't we just see dad? She sat us all down, and started talking about how the surgery went well, and the gall bladder issue is fixed. You could tell by her body language that she was nervous to speak with us, but she somehow mustered all her strength to spit it out. The words that were going to change our lives.

"They found something when they were in surgery." She went on about how they had taken the gall bladder out, and went back in to make sure they got it all, and then said it. "They found a tumor in the middle of everything. It's an 8in. by 2 in. tumor and they don't know where it's from. They saw the tumor and got out, so they wouldn't spread anything. We don't know any answers about what kind of tumor it is, we won't know until they do more tests." She opened up the floor for any questions that we had, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to answer some of them, cause she simply did not have the answers. I remember spacing out on the wall......

I had this daydream or nightmare, you could call it. There was a coffin sitting against the wall of my church. It was closed, but I knew it had the body of my father in it. I was walking down the aisle going towards the back, with my hair plastered to my face from tears. All eyes were on me and my family. Everyone dressed in black. It was indeed my Dad's funeral. I could see it.... it felt so real.....

My dream was interrupted by my oldest sister, Angie, coming down on me from above, hugging me and holding me, "Are you alright?" she asked with many tears in her eyes. I don't remember answering her, I just remember everyone crying together. My brothers were in shock and didn't know what to do with themselves. They sat there staring off, just like I was. I don't know what they were thinking.
Mom invited us to see Dad. I was so nervous, seeing the man in my life that was soon going to die. It was awkward, but my dad knew how to break it. We went through his room doors and I saw him laying in his bed, smiling at us. We all took turns hugging him very carefully. I was trying so hard not to cry, I didn't want to cry in front of him. He cracked his little jokes, making us laugh about the situation. The nurse came in, asking questions about his history. Any cancer questions that came up, he would say "Not yet!" in a cheerful voice. We all were shaking our heads, but were so thankful for his attitude. He seemed fearless.

It took another month to track down where the tumor originated. It was his colon. AND his cancer was in stage 4, the last stage. It had spread to his lymph nodes, and other places, that made it an undeniable fatal cancer.
I remember he sat us down when he told us his prognosis. He said, " They say, along with chemo that I have anywhere from 4 months to 2 years left. ... " we all were stunned. It became real to me that he would not make it to my graduation. That he would not be able to walk me down the aisle to my future husband. That he would not be there when I had my babies. All these losses came swimming through my head. Everyone started crying. He sat there in the middle of all of us watching us take the news in.
He sighed a great sigh, and said, " Yeah...... I'm going to go and be perfect in heaven and you guys are going to have to stay down here on this wretched earth."








(Left: the boys were shaving dad in preparation for the possibility of dad losing his hair during chemo) (Right: Me and Dad on the couch soaking in any moment together) (Bottom: Dad lay sick watching his son play and learn guitar for the first time. Noah became a great guitar player as he grew older. Dad was proud and would be proud still.)

Daddy's Little Girl

This picture was taken when I was 12, and my friends and I were playing with an old wedding dress. He was showing me how my husband would hoist me up into his arms when I got married. A moment that will always be close to my heart.

I love my mother, but I was definitely daddy's little girl. Let me explain the relationship between me and my daddy, so you can appreciate the next posts about him.

One of the main things I remember most about him, was his whistling to the oldies. He loved the oldies. He'd tape the oldies from the radio, he loved them so much. We'd be in his old truck that had spray paint on the rust spots, he said it made it look camouflaged like in the army, (mom hated it, but he loved it) and he'd be whistling through his teeth along with the melody of some oldies song. I remember one of his favorite songs was "Turn, Turn, Turn." He believed in that scriptural song, and so the family followed his lead. He was the backbone to all of our faith, growing up. Using everything in every moment to give us a fresh experience that we would never forget.
He would take us kids to the airport, and we'd stand just outside the fences that blocked off the runway, and we'd just watch the planes take off. He'd take me to "Daughter's Go To Work Day" and that would be the highlight of my year. He worked at the Logan Community Center in Des Moines as a maintenance man. He would take me everywhere with him in that building and tell me where kids weren't allowed, but snuck me in with him. We'd eat donuts from the kitchen. Everyone loved my dad at his work. Everyone he came across, would burst out in a cheerful, "Well, hi there, Joe." He'd reply with a "Howdy" or a "Hi there, Mrs. ---- or Mr. ----" We'd go into his cool janitorial office that was often on the louder side cause of the equipment, but I remember his stash of sour strawberry straws.
Every morning he'd grab donuts and a chocolate milk before work. But on weekends, it would always be bacon. He'd be making bacon before anyone got up, so we'd wake up to the smell of bacon and there we would find it, resting on newspaper on the counter top. He loved reading the paper and watching CNN, and listening to Rush Limbaugh. He agreed with almost everything Rush said, but had to chuckle at his conceitedness.
Whenever I was angry and he thought I needed to blow off steam, he'd drive me out the this particular cemetery. I hated cemeteries, cause I hated the thought of all these dead bodies underneath me, but he didn't think that way at all. He found it the most peaceful place. None of our family actually was buried there at that point and still, he'd go there just to savor the peacefulness. I'd be sitting there in the car, asking, "Can we leave this awful place now?" and he'd smile at me, and make me get out, to walk around with him. He'd tell me about all who was family as we passed each headstone. It's like he would study the headstones, to figure out who was who, and who was connected to who. Mom remembers one time, he took her out there in the winter time when it was all covered in snow. He counted his steps in a certain pattern, and then stopped. Brushed off the snow from the ground revealing a headstone that had the name Winter on it. He was a very creative man.
He also had dry humor, as every Ruppert does. God love them all. I truly appreciate dry humor. I've realized it's "melancholic humor" cause it all goes so deep no one else understands it. Yes, I too, am a melancholy. I think that's why dad and I clicked so well. My mother is more of a free-spirit, so dad and I understood each other better.

My dad loved my mom though. If there was anything I could take away from my childhood, it would be that. I could go on and on about the characteristics of my dad, but the love he had for my mother, was the greatest. She had a wild spirit when they met, living a troubled life with her two little girls. They both worked at a nursing home, and he told me the first time he saw her and fell in love with her. He said, he saw her down the hallway, and there was this ugly old woman in a wheelchair. And mom bent down and got in that woman's face and gave her a deep embracing hug and that's when dad knew she was the one he had waited for. He wanted her number, but was too shy to ask for it, but somehow he found out that she needed a table. So he went out and bought a table and came to her, saying that he had a table sitting around the house that he does not need. She was very grateful for his offer. He, of course, needed her number to find out where to deliver that table to. Creative little thing he is. He kept that piece of paper with her number on it for the rest of his days. Their first date was on top of the roof of that nursing home. My mom will never forget it.
My dad grew up a Catholic, and my mom with no religion, really, so they were both saved together during marriage counseling with a Pastor Dewey before they were to marry. They were married on the Chapel on the Hill in Eldora ( beautiful place) with my sisters, Angie(10) and Holly(7) on each of their sides, and me almost done cookin in mom's belly. (oops:) I was born 3 weeks later with a face just like dad's. And then a year and a half later, twin boys were born. Seth and Noah. So there we were... 5 kids, and two parents that loved each other. We were poor, but found joy in the little things.

I remember one time, when mom was sick and the rest of us had to go to church that morning. Dad, with us 3 remaining kids, were riding along, and then after a while, dad says, " I think I took a wrong turn somewhere." All of us kids were panicked cause we were lost. He got out his atlas, and made us figure out where we were, by looking at things like mile markers and streets and towns nearby. We figured out we were close to Marshalltown, which is far from our Des Moines church. :) We didn't go to church that morning, but remembered it forever.

We had a cuddle position that I will never forget the feeling of. He'd sit down in his usual spot on the couch, and I would sit right next to him, right by his side. He'd lift his arm, making way for my knees that would be soon bent over on his lap. Then he'd wrap his arm around my legs, then I would lay my head on his shoulder, with my arms wrapped around his arm.

I love him so much, and I miss him. I wanted to give you a hint of his spirit before I tell you his extraordinary story. He was a promise keeper, and a man of integrity, giving everything his best. Including his death.









My dad took the picture of the car, (click and see what the plate says)