The Star Fell 16 Years Ago Today

 It started in my early years of life.  I don't even really know how old I was when my father, Edward Daniel Novick, was diagnosed with a form of cancer known as Hodgkin's Disease.  To consider that technology and pharmaceuticals had not made a lot of advancement in those days, to say that dad was "Superman" is an understatement in my book.  Radiation and chemotherapy were given and were able to get my dad into remission.  But that was not his only cancer instance, plus he had other health issues (including a heart attack and open heart surgery in my college days).  

After many years, I had been out of college, had a couple of jobs, went to seminary, got ordained in 2001, and seemed to be cruising right along in life.  In the summer of 2008, I became the pastor of a small parish about 8 miles south of my parents' home.  I also had gone on a vacation in August of that year before starting the new assignment.  While I was away on vacation, dad had had a doctor appointment with the oncologist.  He decided not to give me results while away.  But while my friend and I were driving home from the vacation, dad called to say that he had a cancer in a lung.  Unfortunately, dad quoted the doctor, stating "It's treatable; not curable."

The new assignment started and while trying to focus my attention on the work at hand, dad was failing before our eyes.  He and mom came to the rectory for Thanksgiving dinner, but it proved to be very difficult as he just was not eating a lot due to becoming nauseated.  A month later, I celebrated Christmas Mass for my family with dad's remaining siblings at our home.  Another day later, dad came to me asking for confession -- something he swore he would never do due to the uncomfortable feeling for both of us.  But it happened.  Two days later was the last day my dad's eyes saw daylight.  He slipped into a coma for a few days.  On January 6th -- 16 years ago today, my mom called before morning Mass stating that dad's hours were likely numbered.  She urged my to celebrate Mass then come home.

I missed his last breath by about 10 minutes.  

Not long after we prayed and listened to some of our church's late 1970s praise record, something happened that I don't think anyone would forget.  Poetically, the Christmas star decoration my mother had hung on her front window fell to the floor.  It made each of us in the house (about 8-10 people) pause to realize OUR star had fallen on the day THE Magi found the Light beneath a new star.

Hardly a day goes by that I don't think about dad since I am told by many just how much I look like him or sometimes even sound like him.  His picture remains in a frame in my sitting room by my computer whenever I need a little inspiration.  I am reminded of that smile that dad had that almost commanded attention when he walked into a room.  It was simply full of confidence.  It's an important thing for someone like myself who can only hope to have that same confidence someday.  Oh there are some people who may say I already have it, but I have a long way to go.

Never leave me, dad.  Miss you a lot.

Michael