A Birthday Letter to Dad

Happy birthday, Dad!

How you loved birthdays and all celebrations!

This will forever be a favorite picture of mine.

You have been physically gone from my life since Dec. 15 of 2020, just 5 short months ago. After Mom passed in Jan. 2020, you were never the same. The cruelty of Covid then arrived and kept us apart for 6 months. I know these were the loneliest months of your life. I’m so sorry your final year was so painful. Even though I know you are at peace now, it still hurts my heart that during your final year, you were isolated and heartbroken, and all we could do was just wait it out. Apart.

I know that being with Jesus now, you have all wisdom and see the plan in full view, and that brings me peace. You are so lucky to now have no veil blurring God’s perfect plan for all of us. You are so blessed to now be with Mom and Greg and all your loved ones who have gone before you.

But, I have to say…I miss your light in my life.

You were such an energetic, enthusiastic life force. We always found things to discuss and laugh about. You always had some adventure rattling around your brain; you talked me into things I never would have thought of on my own. You had the spirit of a five-year-old…in all the good ways. My life is so quiet now.

I feel you with me strongly, especially at night when I’m drifting off and you pop in to check on my day, see what’s on my mind. I ask you almost nightly to coordinate with Jesus about concerns I have regarding your many grandchildren. You see everything so clearly now, and I am still in the dark.

You’ve already moved in many ways, guiding Terri and Joe through a house sale, and providing funds to all of your children so we can ease some of life’s financial burdens. You were the most generous soul I ever knew, and you continue to be so from your heavenly perch.

Even in missing you, I am so happy that you are free, Dad!

Free from that trembling, weakened body that you grew to resent. In your final years, it was such a deterrent to all you wanted to do. You never did learn to “age gracefully”; it just wasn’t something you were going to submit to. Your caregivers and docs alike stated it was the “fight” in you that kept you around for nearly 98 years. That strong constitution was what earned you membership in what Tom Brokaw called “the greatest generation.”

I’ve been thinking of you a lot this past month in particular because I had hip replacement surgery. As I’ve hobbled around with a walker, then a cane, then weeks of PT, I certainly relate to your complaints of being disabled and clawing your way to recovery. UGH. How soon I have followed in your wobbly footsteps! Words of yours echo in my mind: “Don’t get old” and “I can do it.” I grin just thinking about them.

As you were declining, your primary concern was that your kids would be OK after you passed. We’re all in our 60’s with grandkids, so this always made me smile. Your father-heart was so apparent and so constant. So encompassing. With you as my dad, I always, always felt safe. What a gift you gave me.

Well, I’m here to write, your kids are OK.

We are aging ourselves, but stable and solid and as thriving as 60+ year-olds can be. You prepared us for life well, Dad, and if we’ve screwed up along the way, we have only ourselves to blame.

I am so glad God gave you to me instead of some other daughter down the street. I know this is a nonsensical statement, but it fits my heart, and I’ll think it always.  I love you dearly, and I look forward to the day when we laugh and dance together again. You are my dearest angel.

Love, Mare