Father's Day

I wrote this in 2016. Time marches on, the number of grandchildren has increased, but the core of this message remains intact. I felt it worth bringing back in this forum.

It’s nearly here; Father’s Day.

This is the fifteenth that I will trudge through since my own father’s passing. It feels an eternity since we spoke, and yet, from time to time, my heart grows as heavy as the day I watched him step into eternity. It would appear this will be the case until our reunion.

My father and I had more than a few differences. I was the youngest of five sons. Some would say he was tired after the other four. Some would say I was a challenge because, well, I can be a challenge.

In his later years, my father mellowed, I mellowed, and God worked. We not only moved past the foolishness of my youth, but embraced a friendship and experienced a mutual respect and affection that resonates within me still.

Now I am not only a father, but I have entered the granddad stage of my life. Six AMAZING grandchildren, 3 boys, 3 girls. I’m waiting for the tie-breaker. It boggles my mind, since internally my aspirations don’t wane, but increase as I sense my own mortality becoming more real to me. I wonder, what will my grandchildren know of me? What will the stories my grandchildren; Bella, Nora, Vivian, Judah, Finn and Winston all share when I reside in their memories?

I have friends that have recently experienced this new existence, this post-parent reality I live in. They have been heavy on my heart today, and I remember the first Father’s Day I spent separated from my own father by mortality.

His absence is like an infirmity that becomes accepted. It’s like the loss of a limb, with moments of “phantom pain”, as if the limb is still there. Those seasons have become less frequent for me, but they still come, unexpected and raw as that hot August day my brothers and I carried his body to rest.

As for me, I would not be spared these seasons of separation anxiety. There are times I weep, wishing I could just HEAR his voice, even if it was telling me what I didn’t want to hear. In those times I become “dad-sick”, I just plain miss him. But those tears aren’t for him, they’re all mine, for me. This weekend promises to provide me one of those moments, I can feel it there, just under the surface, restless and pushing against my chest.

So, to you, my friends who may be reading this, and you have laid a loved one to rest. Whether it was yesterday, or seasons have passed, the phantom pain remains. To you, I send my sincere affection and encouragement. May God comfort, encourage and empower you to navigate the phantom pains, and may good memories fill the void their absence has given you.

And to my father, approaching this Father’s Day weekend; I miss you. I look forward to seeing that smile and the mischievous glint in your eyes. I’ll be along...and oh, the stories we have to share.

peace