5 years

I'm here again in my undisclosed Wifi location on a Saturday night, hanging out and trying to stay awake while G-man boogies with his not-quite-a-girlfriend-but-more-than-a-friend.  I remember thinking of something marvelous to write about earlier this week, but the thought has escaped.  I'm reading some wonderful books right now - Philip Gulley's latest, The Evolution of Faith, Richard Rohr's Things Hidden, and a new memoir, Unquenchable Thirst by Mary Johnson.  Despite their wonderfulness, I don't have any new insights or synthesis to share with you.  I would love to say that I have something to say about Occupy Together... but honestly despite my sympathies with those groups, I just don't know what I think just yet.  So I'm getting personal tonight.

This last week marked the 5 year anniversary of my dad's death.  It was unexpected, although he had not been in good health for a few years.  I remember thinking that my grandchildren would not know him, that perhaps we would even lose him before my children were out of high school.  That they would be 9, 4, and 9 months at his death never crossed my mind.

Dad was a gentle man, a warm and quiet father.  Here are a couple of my favorite memories.

Dad's mother passed away when I was a freshman in high school.  She and I were very close.  Dad was an only child and she had longed for a daughter.  After she died, on special occasions, Dad would report that she had called him by telephone in a dream.  She called when I got married, when Galen was born, when Dennis and Katie graduated from high school.  In these dreams, Dad would be sitting in his recliner in the family room (probably 'resting his eyes'); the phone would ring.  He would know that she was gone, that she was calling from heaven or wherever.  She would offer congratulations or best wishes or whatever suited the occasion and share her love.  She missed us.  These dream calls were immense consolation for my brother and sister and me.  I wonder if he made them all up.  I'm glad I never had the opportunity to ask.

Dad was so proud of all of us.  Hardly a week ever went by that he didn't report our achievements and milestones to whoever would listen.  There are scores of people in the Piedmont of North Carolina that heard about our exploits... most of them Cadillac drivers.  When my boys were small, Dad shared a story of a young woman coming into the service department with a young baby.  While she waited for her car repairs, the baby began to fuss and the young mother nursed him in the waiting area.  She was embarrassed and apologized to Dad.  He reassured her, letting her know that his own daughter was a breastfeeding mom and he was both supportive and used to it.  It was nothing new that Dad was proud of us, but I was thankful for this moment when he was proud of himself.

Dad wasn't a high flyer.  He didn't invent anything, or write anything, or rise to the top of any field.  He was a hardworking family man who did his very best for all of us.  I am so thankful.

Comments

[Pastor Jim martin]

Thanks for sharing. Jim

[Donna Stepp]

Okay, you made me cry. That was a beautiful tribute to your dad and he would have appreciated it. I too think of how he would have loved watching the grandchildren grow up. He would have enjoyed every minute of it. Wish he could have seen David in the Halloween store this weekend. The two of them would have wanted to buy out the store. He loved his children and he was very proud of all three of you. I miss him every day.