Today would have been my dad’s 92nd birthday, something I’m really struggling to wrap my mind around. He’s been dead for almost 11 years and I still miss him. Oh, don’t misunderstand. I know where he is and I am not unhappy for him because he is enjoying his well-deserved rest with the Lord as he awaits his new resurrection body. So no regrets there.
No, I just miss him. I miss being around him and enjoying his company. I miss his gentle humor and his great wisdom. I miss his big heart and him being the patriarch of our family.
God blessed me richly in giving me a father who loved me and served as a great role model for me and the community in which he lived. For that I am thankful. I’ll look forward to being reunited with him (and the rest of my family) someday. And when God ushers in his new creation, it will be more glorious than I dare imagine. In the meantime, I will try to live faithfully and conduct myself in ways that would make dad proud.
Happy birthday, dad. I love you. Thank you for giving me the greatest gift a son could ever want—you.