Remembering my Father
Monday, June 8th, 2009
I think of my father daily. He passed away suddenly of a brain aneurysm in October 1994. He was only 51. I had been married almost 4 years and my only child was 2 years old. Our relationship had been strained, almost non-existent in the last few years before his death. Shortly before his death though, while I was fasting and praying for the very first time, the Lord told me to tell my father I was sorry for hurting him. I’m so glad I listened and obeyed. My Dad was stunned and really didn’t respond, but I had done what I could to help heal and restore our relationship. I’m so grateful that the Lord gave me that gift.
Though he often drank too much, I believe he loved me. There are sweet memories, like going out in the woods with my parents and my first dog, a beagle named Willie, and playing hide and hide and seek. I always knew I could call on my Dad for help. He was a good provider for our family. I couldn’t have gone to college if my parents hadn’t saved and been so generous to me. After graduation from college, they helped me get my first car and move into my first apartment.
My father was passionate about the poor and downtrodden. Having come from a poor family himself and losing his father when he was only 4, injustice made him angry. I think he passed on that compassion and sense of justice to me.
He had a very strong work ethic and was good at his job with AT& T. He was often called in after hours to make repairs. I’d like to think that I strive to do my very best, just as he did.
He loved to plant and grow vegetables and flowers. I have the sweetest picture of me watching him place a beautiful zinnia from his yard in my toddler daughter’s romper pocket.
He loved to hunt deer with his hunting dogs. I went with him on an actual hunt only once. We would often travel down to my grandmother’s home so he could go.
He’s often in my dreams as well as my waking thoughts. Sometimes in the dream, I’ll look at him and think “you’re dead, what are you doing here?” But mostly, I’m glad to remember.
