Should I stay or should I go?

If we aren't killed as a result of a seemingly freak accident, how will we know when it's time to exit stage left?  For the saints of God I believe there will be a foreshadowing of the inevitable.  A brief time or a season when you get to have a presence in both realms.  One place was only ever your temporary home but it is the only home your flesh knows.  And the other home is the one your soul has been dreaming to return to but may feel a tad unsure about.
For almost a year, my Dad has been dropping me lots of hints that he knows this world is getting stale for him.  He's been talking to his deceased brother (Tootsie) quite often and calling for his Mom at night.  Just like a good dad would, he has been preparing us for his time to fly away home by saying things like, "it won't be long now" and, "do you think I'll get to see my brother on the other side?"   At first I felt sorrow when he would want to talk about the next phase.  I'd typically respond with something like, 'you're not going anywhere Dad!'.  I guess I was trying to convince him as much as myself that sticking around would be best for us all.  Now, when he brings it up, I sit quietly and allow him time to express his thoughts without encouragement or judgement.  And my flesh tries not to cry even as my soul rejoices.  He has been a stalwart soldier for the Lord this last third of his life making me prouder than I could have thought possible.  He has served faithfully on the deacon boards of both Woodland Park Baptist Church and New Jerusalem Missionary Baptist Church.  He has given countless hours as a volunteer in soup kitchens, food pantries and clothing distribution centers.  He has welcomed foreign nationals into his home and traveled to the Mother land to experience where we may have come from hundreds of years ago.  Many call him blessed.  One of his favorite sayings was, 'I'm too blessed to be stressed".  Lately, he'd taken to saying, " I may give out but I won't give up!"  Very recently though he's been asking to go "home".  At first, I would obliquely say, 'you ARE home Dad' thinking maybe he was confused; (I'll bet inside he was shaking his head!).  Then, I would ask if he was talking about going home to Montgomery, Alabama (duh).  Now, I'm pretty sure he was talking about his heavenly home (admittedly, I can be a bit obtuse. Lol). Sometimes I'll just sit in his room in the wee hours and eavesdrop on conversations frankly I'm not sure I should be listening to.  *Should I go? If I do, will they call her? Ma, Ma, Ma. Hey! Let me go.  You want me to take your hand?*.  There really is very little separation between his sleep and awake states now when he's at the house and that really really fascinates me. And not in a morbid way at all.  See, we who rest assured that to be absent in the body is to be present with the Lord feel blessed to be in the presence of a saint who is in the process of moving to their real and permanent home.  I picture my Dad packing his spiritual bags making sure each and every loved one he cares for will be OK as he carefully puts things away.  And once that last bag is packed?  Welp, he'll fly away home, "and no amount of weeping or crying is gonna keep me here" he told me recently.  I asked him once what he would say once he met Jesus.  Dad simply said, "I'll tell Him, 'Thank-you!".  Until then?  We'll enjoy life abundantly knowing that his request will be met in God's time.  And Holy Spirit will continually be by our side to comfort us as promised.