Name: Dewey “Joey” McDonald Jr., 56
Died: Monday, September 19, 2011, in Beaumont
Dewey Joe “Joey” McDonald, Jr., 56, of Beaumont, Texas passed away September 19, 2011 at St. Elizabeth Hospital in Beaumont. He was born September 11, 1955 in Port Arthur to the late Dewey Joe Sr. and Geraldine O’Quinn McDonald Wade. He was a sales manager for Drago Supply.
Funeral services will be held at 1:00 p.m. Friday, September 23, 2011 at Melancon’s Funeral Home, 1605 Avenue H in Nederland, Pastor Deamon Scapin officiating. Interment will follow at Greenlawn Memorial Park in Groves. A gathering of family and friends will be held on Thursday, September 22nd from 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. at the funeral home.
Joey is survived by his daughter, Jenai Hamilton and husband Tyler of Houston; son, Dewey Joe McDonald, III of Nederland; grandson, Quinn Hamilton; brother, Dwain McDonald of Beaumont; and sister, Laura Bonin of Beaumont. He is preceded in death by his parents.
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We buried my dad on the 23rd of this month. The past two weeks or so have been the hardest of my (nearly) 24 years. I think the roughest thing I have to come to grips with is that as life goes on, I’m going to have to meet death more and more. But God is still good.
You know, most of us, the lucky ones, typically rely on our parents during a great part of our lives. You grow up, your parents are the providers, caregivers, protectors. I remember my dad picking up heavy things, taking care of some business, doing things without anyone else’s help. Growing up, I watched him, the strong guy, capable of doing anything he set his mind to. Two weeks ago, I watched him go from struggling to walk to completely immobile. From struggling to speak to completely silent. He struggled to breathe for a long time and, eventually, he couldn’t even do that anymore.
James 5:11 says, “Behold, we consider those blessed who remained steadfast. You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful.” After I read that the other day, I didn’t understand. Why are people who remain steadfast considered blessed? Why do people who endure trials considered blessed? After more reading, digging, and questioning, it made sense to me. The answer was in the last part of that scripture. We undergo trials and sufferings so that God can show us his compassion, mercy, and grace. The ESVSB says “steadfastness ultimately leads to perfection.” No trials, no steadfastness, no perfection. I’m not sure that’s entirely sound logic, but it makes sense in my head. For me to come out of the other side of Dad’s death and still be able to say that God is good is a testament of God’s faithfulness, not mine. God is always there; he graciously let me feel him the entire time I was enduring all this with Dad.
I watched my Grandpa Mac, my dad’s dad, die of lung cancer when I was in 4th grade. Now I’ve watched my dad die of the same thing. You’ve got to be some type of crazy to think I’ll allow my husband and child (and future children) to even be around smoke. You might think that I’m being overprotective, and if you do think that, then you probably absolutely cannot understand what I’ve recently witnessed.
I could blame smoking for causing the lung cancer and killing Dad in the end, and believe me I do. But this didn’t happen apart from God’s sovereignty. God’s timing is perfect, even in death. He still deserves glory in all things, including this. I’m just thankful he gave me the friends and the faith to endure it all. Now, I’m praying the same for the rest of my family.
Love you and miss you, Dad.
~~~ Minor update ~~~
Eight days before Dad died, he spoke with me briefly about a song he wanted at his funeral, Rock of Ages. It’s the last thing he wrote on a piece of paper for me to have. I kept that paper, and I honored his wish. Rock of Ages was the last song played at his funeral.
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Save from wrath and make me pure.
Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyes shall close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold Thee on Thy throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
