If You Were Here

Dear Dad,

I'm amazed that the heart knows anniversaries. Mine has been especially heavy for the past week as I think on last year at this time when I watched you take your last breath.

What a gift from the LORD that I was able to see you in time and that you were able to take your first look at Jedediah in person. I'm glad his little hand was able to touch your arm, that arm that used to hug us or throw a baseball or work on an airplane or make homemade pizzas.

Our relationship those last several years of your life wasn't at all what I hoped it would be. And even though you kept me at a distance, I don't think it's what you wanted, either. But that's what living often does to us. It makes us think we'll always have tomorrow even though we know tomorrow never comes.

To watch you nod when I asked if you were glad I was at your bedside was a priceless gift that I hold close in my heart. It's one I'll tell my children, as I remind them of God's grace and how He loves us like a Father, tending to every detail of our lives. It's a moment that I'll repeat, too, to remind them that we don't want to hang a lifetime of loving on a nod of the head, but rather we have to be mindful to love well and fully every day.

If you were here, I hope God would have mended our broken fences. If you were here, I hope you would have been able to say you love me. If you were here, I hope you would have known anew just how vast the ocean of God's grace is.

If you were here, you would know the wonderful news that we'll, God-willing, welcome another precious son into the family in September. (I can picture you shaking your head, wondering how we'll manage it all.) You would know that Ink is enjoying three weeks in Mexico with a godly family. You would know that God has faithfully provided through a miscarriage last year, Michele's death, broken appliances, leaky roofs, strange objects in ears, seizures, jury duty, and a whole host of other trials.

If you were here, Mama would tell you about the latest adventures from the desert, including Jedediah's saying, "Bang, bang!" when I mentioned he'd be getting shots, or Ella wondering why, after hearing us pray for a relative's "wife to be", anyone would name their wife "tobe." And even if you didn't say a word, I know you'd be smiling inside.

I remember talking with you once and asking if there were things in life you had always wanted to do and never got to. I remember the sadness that colored your face, and at that moment I realized you were human like everyone else, that you had unfulfilled dreams, that maybe there were many things you wished you could do over.

If you were here, I'd say "thank you" for all you did for us. I'd remind you that God chose you to be my Dad, warts and all, and how grateful I am that He's made me a mother, though He knows so well what a wretched sinner I am. I'd speak of His providence, and the truth that He works all things together for good.

If you were here, maybe I could tell you I better understand how broken people live broken lives and are capable of the grossest of sins, how we don't do what we want to do and do what we don't want to do. And I'd tell you how His grace is sufficient for all of our brokenness, and that when we've been forgiven much, we can only forgive others much. Maybe I'd even look you in the eyes, gently grab your shoulders, and ask you if you knew this, really knew it. Maybe you'd listen when I told you the great news of the Gospel is for every moment of every day, no matter how long we've known Jesus. Even the oldest of saints sometimes forget this.

But, Dad, as much as I often wish you were here, so I could hear you say, "I love you," or watch you strain hard to see the dim outlines of your grandchildren, I know Here is the last place you'd want to be.

You knew so well how disease ravages the body and how exhausting the daily battle against our flesh can be. I know you were weary and wanted to be delivered from it all. You now know better than any of us here how sufficient and amazing His grace is.

I move among the days without you here, but I take comfort in the truth that when we see each other again, it will be even better than my memories of your doing science projects with me, singing those hymns so boldly at church, giving me chocolate for Valentine's Day, or my watching you slap your knee as you laughed so heartily. There will be no hearts broken by hard words and stubborn ways or hasty choices. We'll know what it is to perfectly reflect our Savior's love. We'll be consumed by His glory, worshipping Him for all of eternity.

What a day that will be.

Loving you and missing you,

Trisha

***Tomorrow marks one year without my Dad here on this earth. If yours is still with you, I urge you to love better, forgive more, and treasure, in word and deed, the gift of a father, warts and all.