Happy Father’s Day, Dad!
People keep saying you’re in a better place, and I believe them.
But that still doesn’t mean we don’t wish things were different.
It doesn’t mean we don’t think it absolutely sucks to lose a dad and an Opa to lung cancer, you who never smoked in your life, except for that one time, when you were a kid, with the rhubarb leaves. Even if you had smoked, it wouldn’t be okay to lose you at age 68. That will never be okay, on this side.
I wish I could tell you so many things, about my writing, about books I’ve read, and movies I’ve seen. (Recently, we watched “Red Army” with the boys, which is about the Soviet Red Army hockey team. I told the boys it was a connection to you, because you had known what it was like to be scared of the secret police in your Stalinist childhood. You had known what it was like to defect from the Reds. PS: I am always looking for ways to make you seem alive to your grandchildren. This was just one of the ways.)
Mostly, I wish I could tell you about my family, our joys and concerns.
One of greatest losses of you being gone is that seven wonderful kids don’t get to have you as their physically present Opa.
You’re not living in the apartment on Henderson HWY anymore, ready to dole out Loonies and treats and Slurpee money and hugs anymore.
You’re not here to come visit, and see your grandchildren do their thing, and light up this world with their graces and gifts. You’re not on the other end of the phone line, singing “Happy Birthday,” talking about the Jets or the Bombers. You’re not there to hear about the way your grandchildren are growing up, so fast, beautiful, accomplished, loving Jesus. You’re not there to hear the words “Happy Father’s Day, Dad! Happy Father’s Day, Opa.”
And that may be the worst thing of all.
It made me think: If we could get you back for one more day, for one more Father’s Day, what would we give you? What would make you happiest in the receiving of our gifts?
I think I know.
Gift #1: I would have Jonah play you a few songs on his guitar, his true love. And you would be so proud of his musical gifts (“Finally!” you might say, even out loud. “A musically inclined offspring!”)
Gift #2: I would commission Ezra to draw you a picture and write you a story. (In the mysterious alchemy of adoption, did he get his artistic bent from YOU? I’ve wondered this many times, because there is no striking artistic talent on either side of my birth family.)
And your granddaughter with the honey-colored skin and eyes like marquise gemstones?
Gift #3: She would show off her keeper skills, and keep a multitude of soccer balls out of the net–with her face, if she had to!
Gift #4: Doyle would tell you about being in the Gospel choir, and how they sing the Andre Crouch songs you adore. By the way, the choir IS singing this Sunday, so give a listen, wherever you are. You’ll be glad you did.
Gift #5: As for me, I’d tell you that I want to write about you and your story next, of courage, faith and hope in the face of atrocious war. Of a refugee and underdog who turned bookselling into a master craft. So many people will have seeds of faith planted deep within, because you lived out such a story on this earth.
Dad, you would be glad to receive such gifts, especially from the kids.
Maybe you have received these gifts already, in some celestial way we don’t understand, and won’t understand until we see you–and our claiming, rescuing Father–face to face.
Maybe you’ve heard the music of one grandchild, and bragged to Johnny Cash about him. Or nudged Rembrandt to look at another grandson’s charcoal drawings. (“Take a look at that detail! Well, his middle name is “Brandt” after all…”)
I don’t know who’s with you there in terms of soccer players, but I wonder if you’ve dragged these folk to some close-by but unseen spot beyond the veil to watch a little black haired goalie make some crazy saves.
I would give anything to even wave at you from across the field.
Regardless if you can see us or not, we have kept you in our hearts these nine years.
And even if we can’t give you our gifts face to face, somehow, just by doing what we have been put on this earth to do, we are honoring you. And that’s the best Father’s Day gift we can give, from us to you, from this life to the next.
Beautifully written, Lorilee. You SHOULD write about your dad next!
Sandy, Thanks so much! I want to write my dad’s story so badly! Here’s hoping I get the chance!
I also lost my father when he was only 68. That was unbelievably 25+ years ago. There are only two grandchildren he didn’t meet, and sadly my beautiful daughter is one of them. When he passed away, my husband told me that if we ever had children, my dad would pick them out. After our daughter was born, I am sure he did. She is beautiful, intelligent, faith filled, loving, compassionate, and talented. She is the only member of the family to have my dad’s mischievous smirk. She is a very good girl with just enough of a devilish streak to keep us on our toes. She is beyond talented as a musician and is especially gifted in jazz, his favorite kind of music.
If I could see him this Father’s Day I would thank him for teaching me how to love and how I should be loved. I would thank him for always making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, because even when we didn’t have much, I always had my wonderful daddy who adored me. I would thank him for choosing my wonderful daughter, my greatest accomplishment in life.
I would give anything to hold his hand again, to feel his safe warm hug, to see his goofy grin. I would love to know that he was proud of me and the woman, wife, and mother I am. I was barely grown up when he died, and I would like to know that he is proud of me. I hope he sees how I have been there for mom as we travel this horrible road of Alzheimer’s with her.
I would just love to hear him say, “I love you kid…you’ve done good.”
That was very touching. I remember going to the bookstore for kids church curriculum and your dad would let us take something out so we could peruse it and make sure it was what we needed. When we’d figured it out we’d bring back what we didn’t want and pay for what we wanted.
This post was in response to what Lorilee wrote not what Joan wrote. Sorry for the mixup.
#6..?
Visit their home country together with them especially when you have the unique opportunity of having a relative who would love to see you all who lives there!
Ha! Gordon, that IS a great idea! Visit their home country and visit your own bio relatives! 🙂
Well, i just loved this. Perfect. Get writing. He would want you to not lose those stories.