June 20, 2010

It's Father's Day

Written on Sunday, June 20.



Today, I am spending time with B and his daughter. It is lovely.

I am also allowing myself, for the first time in YEARS, to really think about my dad. I finally feel like I have the backup needed (B) to let my guard down and miss him. Might be because I desperately want to introduce him to my dad. My dad would absolutely love B. Not just because they have hunting and fishing and dozens of other things in common, but because I know that B meets and exceeds what my dad's expectations were for a man in my life. No man has ever truly hit that mark.

Oh how I miss him.







My boys never met him. They never got to fish with him. And Mabel... my father would have been flat out smitten with her. Especially her spunk. Instead they will have to wait until Heaven to meet.

Last night I laid in bed and struggled to remember a Father's Day with my dad. Not because we didn't make memories, but because its been so long ... my father has been gone for 13 years. The memories I have include some fantastic ones from my childhood... fishing, cleaning squirrel (oh yes I did), telling bedtime stories. Him singing Elvira to me as a baby.

My dad and I were pals when I was a kid. But as I grew up and got snotty (as teens are want to do) we weren't close for a while. My parents divorced and I missed him. I am grateful daily that we reached back out to one another before he died.

My dad grew close to Jesus toward the end. He spent days on the banks of the Ohio river in prayer about his life. There is no doubt in my mind that my daddy will be waiting for me on the inside of those pearly gates. And that makes me smile.

So, go kiss your dad. Indulge yourself in his memory if he is gone.

I'm so glad I had the dad I did. He made me who I am. My Heavenly Father has taken over for him since calling him home and that's just fine... but I miss him.








And Dear B: Thank you for being the father that you are. It is absolutely one of my favorite things about you. All four of our children are blessed beyond measure to have you in their lives. Thank you for wanting to pass on the good that your father gave to you. Thank you for holding me as the sobs came, remembering my father's voice. You are right; Larry and Richard are both watching over us right now, pleased. Probably fishing together.

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