Missing My Dad

Next week we will pass a date on the calendar: January 19. It will mark 13 years since I lost my dad. Although I lost him long before that to brain damage and nursing homes, that's the day his body ceased to function. I processed his death a lot, new levels of grief find their way up into my heart, head and then my throat as the tears catch. I try not to memorialize his death date. I try my hardest to celebrate what was his life. There are questions that I have that will remain forever unresolved. Unless of course we do ultimately face a judgement day on which the gracious God I have spoken, written and preached about should again show grace and allow us to speak and then an answer.


I am car-less today and cleaning up around the dormpartment as I like to so affectionately call it. On my desk were a pile of pictures and one was of my dad when he was about 18. I teared up and thought about how I would like to talk to him about the picture. It is from Vietnam (he was drafted and serving his time) it's a part of his life he didn't talk much about until after he got sick. He is smiling in the picture and I know that part of his life was hell. His smile captured me.

I started thinking about all the things I would ask my dad if I could have a conversation with him while he was coherent and I was an adult. I wasn't able to have a coherent conversation with him after I was 7 years old. Ten years between his coma and his death. More questions with out answers. I often wonder what he would think of how my life is turning out. People tell me he would be proud of me. One has told me that he wouldn't agree with my serving the church and God. So who really knows?

I took a look at this one I am that little tiny baby in his arms just a few days old. I am struck with this thought ever breath is precious. I thought about how frustrating this weekend was with my own daughter as we try to help her stop using her pacifier. She will be two and a half soon. It makes me grateful for those hellish moments, at least in retrospect, because they are moments I get to be with her. One day there won't be moments for us anymore and she might be the one writing the blog about what would her mom think. I think I will leave it there kids, I have to plan my own funeral for a class next week and that is more than a enough contemplation of my own mortality.

I leave you with the gratitude for all the people with whom I have shared precious breaths with, even the most frustrating breaths. 

May you be blessed this day with sharing precious breath with those you love.