Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

Well, I knew this day would come sometime, but for you to be only 63, and for me to be only 42, it is too soon. Vicki & I had decided to go ahead with our Independence Day plans to spend the weekend in Willmar, MN. We had had a great day, and several of us had gathered to pray, just to say thanks. Along the way, one of us prayed for you. We asked that God would strengthen both you and mom. We knew that you had eaten on Thursday, so we thought things were looking up. And then Liahna said that she heard Vicki’s phone ringing. Vicki hurried over to answer the call.

Suddenly, I knew things weren’t right. She hung up and said to all of us that they had just called a code blue on you, and said something about CPR. I immediately said that we had to go. We needed to drive to Iowa. A few minutes later I was talking to Jeff, and asked him to explain what was happening. He gave us what he knew, and said that he did not think dad was going to make it. Suddenly the driving became all the more urgent. I wanted the car to grow wings so that we could get to the hospital. And then Jeff called with two words that I will never forget. He said, “He’s gone.” I was quiet for a moment and Jeff asked if I was still there. I said yes, and that we would be to Iowa as soon as we could.

At that moment, I knew that my life was forever changed. Dad, you were too young to have passed away. You were always so healthy, I never had a concern that I would lose you this early in my life. But I did know that things weren’t right over the last eight months. Still we thought that the decision to take part of your colon would provide some relief from your recent health issues.

Finally at around 3:30 in the morning, we arrived at the hospital. We hurried up to the floor where you were, I embraced mom, Jeff and Gloria, and then went into your room. I saw a sight that is forever drilled into my head. You were lying there dead. Finally the emotions I had held in so that I could drive safely came flooding out. I bent over to see your closed eyes, your still body. I wanted so much to look down and see your chest rising and falling as you if were in a deep sleep. I reached over and pulled Jeff close and said, “He was a good man.” And I checked again, just to make sure that I did not see you awakening out of your sleep. But no, dad, you were gone. And I had not been able to say goodbye. I had to be satisfied with being able to wish you a happy birthday on June 30.

But enough said about your having passed away. I want to take a moment to tell you what I remember about you over the years. I remember many good times as a child. You were a great dad, who worked hard to provide for his family. And you always took time to pay attention to your boys, and later on your daughter. I remember many camping trips and your joy when we would catch a big fish. I remember when we finally moved up from a tent to a fold down camper.

Along the way, you and mom decided to adopt Gloria. I am forever grateful that you did. She has been the joy of our family. And I remember when you and mom decided to provide for some of my cousins during a difficult time. It was hard for me, but I know that it was the right thing to do.

The years progressed. You walked with me through my teen years, and were there to support me when I made a decision to join the Marine Corps. You always allowed your children to make our decisions. You provided us with wise guidance, and helped us weigh out options, but stepped back and allowed us to make the decisions that we thought were right. And then I was gone from your home. I went off to spend several years serving the country that I know you loved so much.

One day late in my journey through the military, mom called me to tell me that her father had died. I did not know him very well. There were difficult circumstances that caused you and mom to keep us separated over the years. It was when I returned home for his funeral that mom pulled me aside and began to explain to me all that had happened during her childhood.

It was at that time, and in the coming years that I understood for the first time how important you had been to mom. You stepped into a vacuum in her life, in many ways, you rescued mom from the wounds of her past. And you stood by her. I know that you did not always understand what was going on, you did not understand why mom, her siblings and Grandma Naomi dealt with life the way they did. But in all the hard times, you were like a rock for mom. You loved her without reservation, and you took care of and protected her.

Your and my relationship changed over the years. I was the oldest, but I was also the last to get married. You welcomed me back into your home during my time of transition from the military into the next chapter of my life. When I decided to throw caution to the wind and move to Minneapolis, you supported me. You were always available to me when I called and needed your support. The early years in Minnesota were not easy. You encouraged me to continue seeking God’s will for my life, and encouraged me to not give up. Finally, I found the love of my life and you and mom were so happy for me. Not too long after that, Vicki and finally gave you grand daughter. You and mom were so happy with us. You were helpful as we tried to figure out how to be parents. And then you were there for us when David came along. You cried with us as he took a long journey toward recovery.

Then five years ago, you were downsized from a company to which you had devoted 40 years of your life. I was proud of you as I watched you process through that difficult time. You were able to enjoy some extended travel with mom. I never knew you to be bitter. And you decided to embark on a career in real estate, and learned that trade from the ground up.

Dad, you went too soon. I thought I would be in my 60s when you went home. I wanted you to see me continue my journey toward fulfilling God’s will for my life. And I wanted my children to have you in their life as they entered adulthood. I missed out on having a grandfather during my childhood, and I was glad that David and Liahna had both you and Vicki’s father to enjoy and to learn from. And so I am torn up by your going home. I trust in the Lord, but I am not ready for you to be absent from my life. I need your wisdom in my life. Dad, I am going to miss you. There is a hole in my heart. And I am sure that in the coming days, it is finally going to hit me that I am never going to see you again. I am never going to enjoy that smile, that glint in your eye; and I am never again going to see you enjoying your grandchildren.

There is one thing about you that does bring me comfort. I know that you loved Jesus. I think that your death was untimely. Yet I take comfort in the scriptures that remind us that God was not surprised by your death. Job 1:21 says, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” Psalm 139:16 says, “…your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” In these recent months you loved Jeremiah 29:11 which reminds says “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” God’s hope for your future was to bring you home. And now your body is not aching, your heart is not in distress, and you are not gasping for breath.

Dad, it is my prayer that as we consider your death, that all of us will be reminded of the briefness and uncertainty of life. We were all shocked by your death.We thought that the doctors had finally taken an important step in figuring out how to help you get healthy again.Your death reminds us of how fleeting life is. James 4:13-14 “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit’ -- yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.”

Dad, you know that today is my 42nd birthday. For the rest of my life, my birthday will not simply mean that I am one year older. It will always remind me of the day that we released our hold on you. And Dad, I will never again be able to invite you into my home, nor will I ever be able to enjoy your calming presence in my life again. However, I know that you are in the presence of the Lord that you loved so much. Peace to you dad, and may we always hold on to your legacy of love for your family.

Love,

Greg

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