Reflections on Dad

My dad died three years ago today on a rainy day much like today. While it has only been three years, it seems like he has been gone forever. And while the pain I felt over his death is mostly gone, I still miss him terribly. I know he is alive and with Jesus but I miss hearing his voice and seeing his face. Having said that, my dad is very much a part of me and I often catch myself doing things he would have done, thinking about things the way he would have thought, or saying things he would have said.

Funny how that works.

I do not want my sadness to have the last say, however; to do so would be to give up my Christian hope. God blessed me with the two greatest parents a kid could ever want. They loved me, disciplined me, instilled solid values in me, protected me, and provided for me. They let me be a kid when I was young and stuck with me as an adult, even when I did things I know brought them hurt and disappointment or that they disapproved of. Humanly, it is the closest thing to the love of God that I can imagine—not approving of my bad behavior but loving me throughout and inviting me back to relationship when I chose to separate myself from them—and which I still enjoy from my wife and dearest friends. Moreover, I am thankful for my mom’s presence and find joy and peace in knowing that dad is alive and well, freed from his bodily prison that held him captive in his last years; that was very hard to watch.

Yet I often wonder about how we are encouraged to love and forge relationships only to have them ultimately severed by death. But on this day, sad as I am about my loss (not dad’s new life in Christ), I am thankful for this abundant generosity of God in the blessings of my family. Thank you, Lord, for providing me with a wonderful family, both now and for those who have gone before me. Their passing reminds me that only in You can I find real life and continuity. Because You are constant and eternal, only in You can I place my ultimate hope, trust, and dependence. I can live with that. I hope those of you who might be reading this can too.

Enjoy your new life in Christ, dad; I love you and I look forward to seeing you again. It’s a long, cold, lonely winter but Easter is coming.