Tomorrow is Father’s Day as I write this. I have thought of my father all day long as I have seen people post pictures of their Dads on Facebook. It is a touching tribute and one I wish I could do. But, I have no pictures on my computer of him and did not think to scan one in before tonight.
My father was a second generation American. He was an Irishman. He had a great sense of humor, he loved a good story and he loved to drink. I loved spending time with him, at times. Sometimes he did not want to be around people. He wanted his space and his time alone. He could be an enigma at times.
What I have really thought of since his death is the person he was. He worked hard and had his share of trials at his workplace. He remained loyal to those he worked for until his retirement. He loved his city. Was proud of his city.
When I was young he would wake me up early and we would go for walks. We would talk about anything that came to mind. Those are some of my fondest memories. We would walk along the hills in town and see the wildflowers growing, we would watch the river flowing. During those times he would talk of his life as a young man.
He carried papers to earn money during the depression years. I have two pictures in my guest room that were my Grandmother’s. My dad saved the money he earned with his paper route to buy them for her. They are in the original frames and every time I look at them, my heart is filled with love.
He was beside my Mom while she battled pancreatic cancer. He was 41 when she lost her battle with cancer. I can only imagine what he was thinking and feeling at that point. He became the sole parent to three daughters, 15, 11, and 9. The fear and uncertainty he must have felt, must have been incredible. But, raise us, he did.
He died suddenly in 1993. His death happened so quickly, that I could not wrap my mind around his death. For years I would think of calling him to tell him about something I did or something my daughters had done or experienced.
A dear friend of mine who was beside me when I heard news of his passing told me, “As adults we think of our parents as our Mother and Father, but when they die, they once more become Mommy and Daddy.” That touched my heart as the news of my Daddy’s passing started to creep its way into my conscience.
It has been years since I have had a parent to talk with or visit with. One by one I have seen my friends lose their Fathers. I know the pain they are experiencing at that time, although words fail to bring comfort or security.
Psalm 68:4-6 (New Living Translation) states: ” 4 Sing praises to God and to his name! Sing loud praises to him who rides the clouds. His name is the Lord— rejoice in his presence!
5 Father to the fatherless, defender of widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy. 6 God places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy. But he makes the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.”
I read this psalm shortly after getting home after my Father’s memorial service. I had read it several times before, but it never touched my heart like it did that time. In the time of my grief, my Heavenly Father assured me that I was not alone.
So, on Father’s Day, I remember my Dad. He may have had his flaws, but he is the man chosen to raise me as best he could. I am grateful for the time I had with him. I cherish the memories of him.
On Father’s Day tomorrow, I will celebrate with my dear hubby. He blessed me with two beautiful daughters and as best he could, along with me, we raised them. I hope in years to come my daughters will think of their Dad with the love and understanding that I have for my Dad this day.
Thanks for stopping by. It means the world to me, DAF