Zacki Murphy
A Tribute to My Daddy
A Tribute to My Father, Dr. Bob Murphy; The Last of the Country Doctors
By Zacki Murphy, April 17, 1994
It is that time of evening, when the last tinge of pink sky begins to pale. A lawn mower engine still hums, and a profusion of bird chatter fills the night air. Our North Carolina dogwoods seem like white patches that float on fragile branches. Daddy’s camellia bushes are in full bloom as if just for him.
At the nursing home today I pressed a pink blossom against Mom’s cheek. “Soft,” she said. “They don’t smell. Baba (Daddy) grows them.” When I asked where her female roommate was, she remarked, “In the other bed. Baba is sleeping next to me.” My mother did not know that Easter Sunday would be the last visit from Daddy. They were married for 52 years. We brought her home Thanksgiving for a brief visit. There was a moment when she held his hand and said; “Now, Baba, you wait for me and I’ll wait for you.” He can’t. The long journey is almost over. After 10 years of fight, his body is as an old ship limping into the harbor.
Daddy and I shared one very special journey 14 years ago. It began in San Francisco and we drove down the Big Sur coast. I surprised him with lodging at the Camaldolese Hermitage, set on a mountain top. Dinner was not ready, and Father Bernard suggested that we take a walk around the monastery path. The Pacific Ocean was our view. Daddy often spoke of a ring phenomenon, which occurs mostly in the tropics just as the sun sets. He always wanted to see one. Well, there it was as if God had perfectly cued it! A huge ring appeared around the sun as it slipped away. We set in awesome silence.
The next day we awakened to a misty shroud of clouds beneath our orange grove setting, and drove in the beautiful sunlight to Pasadena. There we visited the gravesite of his parents and brother in a peaceful setting of eucalyptus trees. We spent 3 days together; no phone or place to hide and confronted each other with questions we both always wanted to ask. That time alone rejoined us by the hip and heart. I knew that if we should part, that trip bonded us forever.
During his many stays at Duke Hospital, Daddy told me a story, which has given me much comfort. He was worried about all the unfinished business, Mom, my not being married again, as if the latter were the cure all. At these times he often read the New Testament or the Book of Common Prayer. On two occasions his eyes focused on a small spiral of light which eventually filled the entire room with a magnificent illumination, and he was given a sense of peace.
Daddy is all right with his soul. His life has been devoted to helping others, healing the ill and long nights of bedside care. He was the epitome of the country doctor, counselor, friend, and gentleman.
Today, April 17, was absolutely the most beautiful, vibrant spring morning I have ever experienced. It seemed almost surrealistic. There were birds’ songs that sounded as if a chorus of hundreds. I told my sister, Karen, I felt in my spirit this was the day Daddy would pass and she sensed the same. With his two staff members, Dr. Sara Dent and Edna, our small family (Son in law; Bob and grandson; Jonathan) gathered. We trudged through the hours of Dad’s struggle to hang on to this world. His arms raised for breath and I thought of Christ on the cross. His handsome face, with the perfect Roman nose and high cheek bones, looked like alabaster marble; so pale and smooth. Pastor Brooks led us through communion. Then at 10:30 p.m., Daddy finally let go. It was finished. His work was done.
.. Yet, death is not an end. It is a passing over; a continuation, an exciting new journey. This night as I walked down the same road we often traveled, I noticed how incredibly bright the stars seemed. “Look, there is the Big Dipper,” I could hear him say. Suddenly I could feel him everywhere. I lifted my arms and thanked God for the release of death, the incredible legacy I’ve inherited from this wonderful man and the gift of life he gave me. Dr. Bob Murphy: beloved physician and father.
Zacki Anne Frazier Murphy; daughter
By Zacki Murphy, April 17, 1994
It is that time of evening, when the last tinge of pink sky begins to pale. A lawn mower engine still hums, and a profusion of bird chatter fills the night air. Our North Carolina dogwoods seem like white patches that float on fragile branches. Daddy’s camellia bushes are in full bloom as if just for him.
At the nursing home today I pressed a pink blossom against Mom’s cheek. “Soft,” she said. “They don’t smell. Baba (Daddy) grows them.” When I asked where her female roommate was, she remarked, “In the other bed. Baba is sleeping next to me.” My mother did not know that Easter Sunday would be the last visit from Daddy. They were married for 52 years. We brought her home Thanksgiving for a brief visit. There was a moment when she held his hand and said; “Now, Baba, you wait for me and I’ll wait for you.” He can’t. The long journey is almost over. After 10 years of fight, his body is as an old ship limping into the harbor.
Daddy and I shared one very special journey 14 years ago. It began in San Francisco and we drove down the Big Sur coast. I surprised him with lodging at the Camaldolese Hermitage, set on a mountain top. Dinner was not ready, and Father Bernard suggested that we take a walk around the monastery path. The Pacific Ocean was our view. Daddy often spoke of a ring phenomenon, which occurs mostly in the tropics just as the sun sets. He always wanted to see one. Well, there it was as if God had perfectly cued it! A huge ring appeared around the sun as it slipped away. We set in awesome silence.
The next day we awakened to a misty shroud of clouds beneath our orange grove setting, and drove in the beautiful sunlight to Pasadena. There we visited the gravesite of his parents and brother in a peaceful setting of eucalyptus trees. We spent 3 days together; no phone or place to hide and confronted each other with questions we both always wanted to ask. That time alone rejoined us by the hip and heart. I knew that if we should part, that trip bonded us forever.
During his many stays at Duke Hospital, Daddy told me a story, which has given me much comfort. He was worried about all the unfinished business, Mom, my not being married again, as if the latter were the cure all. At these times he often read the New Testament or the Book of Common Prayer. On two occasions his eyes focused on a small spiral of light which eventually filled the entire room with a magnificent illumination, and he was given a sense of peace.
Daddy is all right with his soul. His life has been devoted to helping others, healing the ill and long nights of bedside care. He was the epitome of the country doctor, counselor, friend, and gentleman.
Today, April 17, was absolutely the most beautiful, vibrant spring morning I have ever experienced. It seemed almost surrealistic. There were birds’ songs that sounded as if a chorus of hundreds. I told my sister, Karen, I felt in my spirit this was the day Daddy would pass and she sensed the same. With his two staff members, Dr. Sara Dent and Edna, our small family (Son in law; Bob and grandson; Jonathan) gathered. We trudged through the hours of Dad’s struggle to hang on to this world. His arms raised for breath and I thought of Christ on the cross. His handsome face, with the perfect Roman nose and high cheek bones, looked like alabaster marble; so pale and smooth. Pastor Brooks led us through communion. Then at 10:30 p.m., Daddy finally let go. It was finished. His work was done.
.. Yet, death is not an end. It is a passing over; a continuation, an exciting new journey. This night as I walked down the same road we often traveled, I noticed how incredibly bright the stars seemed. “Look, there is the Big Dipper,” I could hear him say. Suddenly I could feel him everywhere. I lifted my arms and thanked God for the release of death, the incredible legacy I’ve inherited from this wonderful man and the gift of life he gave me. Dr. Bob Murphy: beloved physician and father.
Zacki Anne Frazier Murphy; daughter
