My Daddy

My dad passed away Saturday morning. I was in the remote wilderness of Yellowstone with my sister, with limited, spotty cell service. The text made it through that he had died. We could not easily leave the wilderness till our allotted snowcoach could take us out Sunday. We cross-country skied in the magnificent beauty of Yellowstone knowing Dad would have wanted us to do this crazy adventure. 

Dad was the most unusual man I know. He was a genius and valued learning, inquisitive minds, creative problem solving, and his family. 

I was an animal lover and desperately wanted a cat when I was little. Dad got me the cat and then suffered years of asthma as a result. He never told me nor urged us to get rid of Frisky. It was a living example of sacrificial love.

He bought me a bicycle instead of the horse I wanted. However, the love of biking became as ardent a passion for me as animals. My bike became my best friend. 

He also loved biking himself. In 1976, he sent me on a bicycle trip across Virginia, one of the most exciting times of my young life. It was not a cheap trip but he knew how much I would love it.He always tried to nurture our passions, especially unusual quirky ones.

Around that same time, despite being a very heavy man, he wanted to do a century ride – 100 miles on his bike and asked me to accompany him. In one day we covered 100 miles. We tiredly pedaled across the finish line in the dark, but we had made it. The course officials had already all packed up and gone home. We were the last of the finishers to complete the course, but we completed it and my dad and I both knew that is what mattered.           

Every Sunday, Dad took the family on a drive. He always found new, free adventures, like little league baseball games and ice cream. Dad had a gorgeous booming voice and shared a love of musicals with me. We would sing together as loud as we could as our family drove through the countryside. I loved those rides. 

It’s funny how sometimes the things that mortify us as children become our fondest memories. My loud, opinionated, always right, quirky dad had a gift closet. Whoever came to visit never left without a gift. The gifts were as nutty as he was but his love language was giving. And he gave abundantly. I would often cringe at the gifts he would pull out. I didn’t realize then the generosity of spirit those gifts represented. 

I do now. 

Whenever my world fell apart, Dad was there for me. Always. I love him so much and deeply miss him. 

In the last few months, he seemed to be thinking more and more about God. We’d catch him watching religious shows. When I shared the Gospel(again) as I often do and did, he told me if he had known all he knew now about the evidence for God, he may have arrived at a different conclusion. I told him it was not too late. He could still come to the conclusion that God exists and sent Jesus to bear the penalty for sin that we deserved. 

Near the very end, he told my cousin that he would rather be in heaven than here on earth. For Dad, that was a major concession and I cling to the hope that Jesus had finally become his truth as He is mine. 

There is never enough time or energy or understanding to write a full tribute to such a complex men who lived such a long life. These are just snippets of a father I deeply loved and I am praying that when I leave this world, I will see him again. 

Further, I urge that whoever is reading this would carefully analyze the scripture that speaks of our heavenly Father’s deep love for us and how He longs for all of us to return to Him and submit our hearts and our souls and our lives to His will. 

May this verse be true for you:

2 Timothy 4:7-8 

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.