dad

Two years ago I scooped up the family pictures I had taped to my father's care center room walls and arranged them on a bulletin board. I trimmed it in blue and presented it to him for Father's Day. Little did I know a month later he would not be with us, and that he was already gravely ill with the sickness that would spiral him to death.

But that day the light in my father's eyes let me know his appreciation. With his fading, husky voice he would tell me names of those pictured, even though I know he would rather not speak at all––he was just humoring me. What a gift to us that, even as Alzheimer's robbed him of his fully functioning mind, Daddy never stopped recognizing his loved ones.

The bulletin board now hangs inside a utility room door in my mom's apartment. Not a bad place, really, for when she opens the door (which is often) she sees all of us greeting her at once. A full display of smiles, ready for showing off.

I miss my dad today. I miss his handsome smile, his wit and humor, his godly wisdom, and his refinement and gentleman-ly-ness. I miss the way he cared for my mom and always looked out for her. I miss him coming into my house and saying, "There's my book." He always found his childhood book, Little Men, on our bookcase, and would pull it out and read a page or two. My dad was able to pick up a book, read from the middle somewhere and always enjoy it!

Today the men in our church became a great choir of voices as they sang three great hymns together. What a magnificent sound. I can't help but think of my dad today, in heaven with his father and brothers, and his Heavenly Father. Maybe they also had a Father's Day Choir.


First posted on Father's Day 2007. Connecting to Chari's Sunday Reposts.