Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

It’s been eight years since I’ve seen you, but I hear your voice all the time. Sometimes I replay some of our past conversations in my mind; conversations that, at the time, didn’t always hold a lot of value—conversations about waxing your car, who you ran into at the fishing hole or how the “big one” got away. Conversations about what book you were reading, what plants you want to buy at the next plant sale, or your dreams for your retirement years.

Dad, you talked a lot—and sprinkled into each of those conversation were words of hope, wisdom, friendship, love, and humility. I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to make conversations about seemingly little things feel big. Somehow, you could make me feel special and like the most beautiful person on the planet as you were telling a story about fishing. I seriously don’t know how you did it! I rarely left a conversation without contemplating something, without begging for answers to the deep questions of life, or without the desire to grow more as a woman in Christ. You made me want more; not more material things, but authenticity, hope, truth, wisdom. I wanted those things and I wanted to become those things—the very things I saw in you.

And although you talked a lot, Dad, you showed me how to love without any words at all. I saw what broke your heart when tears fell from your grey-blue eyes. I saw what lit them up and how you’d bite your lower lip in hopes to contain a squeal of delight. I saw you hold mom’s hand when you’d watch T.V. together and how you’d hold the door open for her wherever you went. I saw how you’d rush out the door to help fill sand bags when the dam broke in our town or to a friend’s house when he called in need. I saw you write letters to men in prison as well as to our politicians. I remember you even lent my date to prom your dress shoes, when he showed up, embarrassed, in tennis shoes! You gave the gift of time and love to everyone; friends and strangers alike.
I haven’t seen you in eight years, but I feel your presence every day; I still hear your voice, see your face. I still feel your hand in mine, smell the lingering waft of your aftershave. You are gone, but you are anything but absent. Forever, you live on in my heart, mind, and soul. And although days like today, the day you left this earth for heaven, pierce my heart, I find that I am grateful for the pain because it means I had a love so, so great. I’ve tucked it deep within my heart and hope that I leave little remnants of it wherever I go, just like you did.

I can hardly wait to hug you again. I have a feeling when I do—I won’t ever let go.

I love you