Today my dad stopped by. No occasion. He just happened to be in my part of town after a haircut. We sat on my sun-drenched patio, enjoying light conversation. He’s enjoying the DVD episodes of The Chosen. He has a breakfast meeting with a friend tomorrow morning. We talked about our visit to The Ark Encounter. He admired my pots of flowers. I showed him the latest photos of his great grandchildren. We had a nice time together.
I’m blessed. Not everyone can enjoy an ordinary day with his or her dad.
Like my own daughters.
This is their seventh Father’s Day without him. They mark the occasion with only their memories, memories of a dad who cared deeply for each one . . . and not just about what they were currently doing but about their hearts and what they were thinking and feeling and planning. He had a way of asking questions to help them think it through, work it out, and come to a satisfying conclusion. His insights brought clarity, truthful perspective, and often humor.
How we miss those conversations.
And yet, we carry him with us every day. How many times have we said, “Dad would have loved this.” OR “Now, what would Dad say about this decision?” OR “Dad would be so proud.” I see different parts of him in each one.
How does a family honor a man we can no longer see and hear and touch? How can we ease the ache of loss on Father’s Day? Perhaps, it helps to take time to remember all he gave us while he lived, all he stood for and taught and modeled . . . and to carry out his legacy, that of loving God and others with humility, of learning and growing in ways that span the gulf of time and eternity.
This month and beyond, let’s take time to honor our dads. A handwritten note, grilling his favorites, listening, making a call. Or taking time to remember . . .
No earthly father is perfect. Some memories may hold pain and regret, disappointment and frustration. If possible, focus on the positives. And let’s not forget: we have a heavenly Father who loves and cares for us in the greatest way possible. He will never leave us, no matter what happens.
“The memory of the just is a blessing . . .” (Proverbs 10:7).
“Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation” (Psalm 68:5).