A Tribute to my Dad

March 23, 1991, my dad went home to live with his Dad.

How I wish that it could have happened 30 days earlier, when he was working in his garden, with a chew of tobacco in his cheek. On that day, life was good. He had spent the day doing what he loved, tending to his home and garden. He had shared the day with the loves of his life, his wife of almost 50 years and his grandchildren.
God didn’t take him that day. Instead, I took him to the hospital where valiant efforts were made to make him well, but ultimately led to his death. It was not a death at home surrounded by family and friends. It was a death surrounded by machines and tubes and the heroic measures of a lot of people. We weren’t really sure he was aware of his surroundings until we realized he had held on to life through March 22nd. Fifty years earlier on that day, he married my mom. The pain, the medication, and the trauma of the ICU didn’t keep them from making that milestone. I believe he knew it was March 23rd, and he was free to go. I knew it was time as well. I stood outside his room that day and told the doctors to let him go.

His death, like his life, didn’t make the headlines in the newspaper that day. We spent the next few days surrounded by those who loved him and us. We were blessed and comforted.

What would dad think about us today?

He would not be surprised that my first marriage ended in divorce. He truly cared for my first wife, but he feared from the start that our core values were too different for us to last forever as a couple.
He would not be surprised that I learned from the experience. He would absolutely love his new daughter-in-law. He would love her honesty, her compassion, her commitment to her Lord and her family. Most of all; he would love her for the way she cared for his sweetheart when she needed it most.

He would be so proud of his grandchildren! Your job title or profession wouldn’t matter. The fact you were doing a good job is all he would need to know. Titles and prestige wouldn’t mean nearly as much as hearing someone say that you had made a positive difference in their lives. He has a grandson he never met, and they both missed a blessing.

I miss you dad. Thirty-two is much too young to lose your father, not that any age is an acceptable age. You tried to teach me so much in the years we had together. Our relationship was unique, partly because I was adopted. I didn’t have any of your genetic makeup. There were so many things that we didn’t understand about each other. Despite the risk, you took a little baby home as your own. If you ever doubted that decision, I never knew it. I was always secure in your love, and the love of the God you taught me to believe in. You did the best you knew to do, and you taught me more than you ever believed you could. I hope that you would be proud of me too. I followed a path you would have never chosen. I opted for the uncertainty of owning a business. You would have been terrified of that risk. I challenge authority when I believe that I am on the side of right. I am passionate about things you would have thought better left alone. You certainly would not have understood my need to write this and share it with others. You never wanted to be in the spotlight, but you always were, for me. I know people who spend their lives trying to win their father’s blessing, striving to be accepted for who they are. Despite our differences, I know I had your blessing.

Thank you daddy, for the life you gave me. The simple truths you taught me become more important every day. Rest in peace that because of you, I will spend eternity, praising our Heavenly Father with you.