One year ago, you went away.
Home to Heaven, and this we believe.
How have we made it? Has it only been a year?
How have we made it? Is it already a year?
Brave Mama, brave siblings, brave grands.
Friends so warm, so kind, so understanding.
And lots and lots of pain and hurt and grief belonging to others
To mix in with our own to remind us that-
We are not alone!
We have never been alone!
And the very Jesus who welcomed you home
Walks with us.
Knows our pain.
Knows how much we miss you!
Oh, Daddy. We remember!
Sometimes it seems like we should be able to look up to see you walk through the door.
We miss your prayers. Your birthday cards with the notes. The eyebrows that went down when you were displeased. The smiley lines around your eyes. We remember shoulder rides and ticklings and whiskerings. We remember playing on the living room floor when the safe area was the hardwood bordering our area rug when we would dash from one side to the other and you, on your hands and knees would growl and chase and catch us as we tried to sneak by. We remember riding in the back of the truck to the Butler Feed Mill in Andrewsville, and the suckers that were given away free to wiggly farm children. We remember how you taught us to ride bikes and always made sure that our bikes were in good repair. We remember the swing in the maple tree and ice cold watermelon on hot summer days. We remember your strong arms and your tanned skin. We remember Family Worship around that grey formica kitchen table and kneeling on that hard linoleum floor while you prayed and prayed and prayed. We remember how you prayed for our community, for our ministers, for your parents, for each one of us, for the wayward and for the faithful, for rain in long dry summers, for the less fortunate, for the strength to be faithful, for forgiveness where you had failed and that God would bring us all safely home without the loss of one. We remember how much you loved our Mama, and how much you loved us. We remember the way you would cradle our babies to you shoulder and murmur Grandpa talk into their ears. We remember the interest you had in our relationships, our marriages and the love affairs of your grandchildren. We remember how you never lost faith in “True Love” and how thankful you were that you had been blessed with it.
Some days it seems like this old world really did need you a whole lot longer. Not that we question our Heavenly Father’s timing. It’s just that you had so much to offer, so much of what so many have so little of when it comes to compassion, and a listening ear and an understanding heart. We feel so much the poorer without you.
But we’ve learned just how blessed we really were, too. We had it incredibly good in almost every way. And because of that, these days are harder in some ways, but sweeter in others. And I know that from where you are tonight, it doesn’t really matter, but we will always love you!
(Note to my readers: Over the last year, I have chronicled alot of emotions in another web-log, at www.xanga.com/letterstomydaddy. There are things there that are very private, very personal. But I think I am pretty much done writing there for now. And if you love me, and if you loved my Daddy, you are welcome to read my journey there. It isn’t all sanctified, I am sure, but it is honest. And it is written as what I was feeling and thinking when it was happening.)