Dad's Day
A reminiscence
Today would have been my dad's 79th birthday.
He passed away on September 11, 2018 (an easy date to remember) after a 9 month battle with a rare type of Leukemia (and he did battle hard, and so did my mom).
When I think back on that season of life, the 9 months we had (which is exactly the life expectancy he was given at his diagnosis) it's with conflicted emotions and a lump in my throat.
My dad and I weren't close. His approach to conversation was more utilitarian than relational. He generally only initiated conversation if he thought something needed to be corrected or addressed. If there was nothing pressing, then no conversation was necessary. I've inherited some of that tendency and have to actively fight against it.
One of the things I've been mulling over recently is what love looks like. What communicates love best, a hug and kiss? Or might someone sacrificing and prioritizing activities for the benefit of someone else be just as loving (or perhaps even more loving) than a hug or a nice sentiment.
We are all different people, growing up in different circumstances, in different generations with various cultural and technological emphases. My dad and I grew up in very different times and circumstances. I don't think I gave my dad as much credit as I should have, and that's probably due to the pride of youth.
Not long before my dad passed, I wrote him an email that described some of my thoughts and reflections. How, as an adult, I had processed my teenage years, both the frustration I caused him and the minimal show of emotion that I had resented (he knew how I felt, as I had talked with him about it before he got sick.). In that email, I was able to express the new perspective I had achieved. How I had come to recognize his sacrifice for our family during those years, and mentioned a few specific instances that I recalled where I had reacted with ingratitude at the time, but had come to realize just how much effort he had put into the thing I tossed aside. It was cathartic for me to write this, and I hoped it would bring an opportunity for me to talk further and express this in person the next time I was there.
We never got to finish that conversation. The next time I visited, my dad passed 24 hours after I arrived.
There was lots to do after his passing and I'm administratively oriented, so I took a month from work and my family and I stayed with my mom during that time helping with funeral arrangements, new life orientation, sorting through the mounds of paperwork and emails to make sure we knew about all the accounts with funds, all the bills that needed to be paid, etc. This too was cathartic for me.
As I was working through this process, looking through my dad's emails, I noticed an unopened email, and the sender was me.
It was THE email. It had never been opened. My dad never read it, or got to hear how I had come to appreciate him and his sacrifice.
There's nothing I can do. An end is an end, and I can't communicate with the dead. But I can work hard to make sure that I hold on to that awareness and making sure that I engage in that sort of sacrifice and life orientation, not just for my family, but for the simple church family I'm a part of and for my neighbors and those in my sphere of relationships. I still have the opportunity to make that investment in them… and I will.