Father's Day Without Dad

This is the first.

When someone dies, the firsts are hard. and this is the first Father's Day without my Dad. He left us gently and mercifully on February 27th this year.

I think of him at odd times. Like when I went to fetch Mom for my birthday supper at our house, earlier this month. There was a small poster in the elevator for a fund raiser selling Pies for Father's Day. And I looked over all the different choices, wondering which one I would get for Dad. He loves pie! And then I remembered. Oh. Right.

Or when I'm looking at the loon, lonely and lingering long in our bay, just last night. And I think, I'll tell Dad about our loon. He'd loved to hear about our loon. He is fascinated by their elusive beauty. It' s something he really misses about being at his own cottage. And then I think, oh. Right.

It's good that he's gone. Eleven years in a stroke-broken body is more than enough for an active doer like Dad. And he did that so well, with dignity and love, being broken like that. Not everyone can. It's an excruciatingly hard thing to do. Abby is still convinced Great Grandad is playing hide and seek with Jesus, because now he could run to find all the good spaces, where before he just had to sit a lot. And if he does sit now, I imagine it's to eat pie and look out over the water to watch a loon be beautiful. So it's good he got to go Home.

But Father's Day this year.....a first.

Dad, I am so glad we got to finish well, you and I. There were so many things, so many times when I was growing up that went bad on us. I wasn't sure our story could have such a strong and noble final chapter. But it did.

And it's because you took something meant to destroy you, and you let it make you more of who God created you to be. Your body was crumpled but your spirit stood strong. As each year of those last eleven crawled us through them, you did not cave in to resentment or self pity. You refused to entertain grumblings or demandingness. Instead you kept smiling. You encouraged and blessed others endlessly. You lavished praise on me and prayed for me and my family and my ministry. You showed a fearless faith to anyone you came into contact with. No one could spend 10 minutes with you, without knowing you loved Jesus. Dad, you let that ending decade make you more and more the godly man your heart so wanted to be.

Thank you Dad.
You fulfilled your purpose and beyond.
I am humbled to be called your daughter. I am honoured to call you Dad.

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