Still Missing my Dad

My Dad died 3 years ago. I still miss him. There's an ache in my heart that comes whenever I stop and think about him. It hurts. I think about him anyway.
Somehow, the pain and sorrow I feel are comforting to me, but they do not replace the comfort I felt from him wrapping his big old arms around me and giving me a tight hug. I miss that. I really do.
Soon Daddy, we will be united in heaven -- loving Christ and loving one another.

In Honor of my Dad

Isn't this a sweet picture of my Daddy? He was trying to wear his mother's shoes.
This is the day my Dad died two years ago -- it truly broke my heart when I received the phone call that he was gone. It felt like something was severed inside and I was consumed with overwhelming grief. All I could do is wail and pound the bed with my fists. The sorrow was drowning me and I couldn't even breath after a short while. I cried and cried laying on my bedroom floor until my dear husband came up and wrapped his arms around me and calmed me down.
Most people don't want to experience this kind of sorrow because it hurts so much; and they really don't want to remember it over and over again. Well, I consider it a gift -- this grief, this pain, this sorrow. I am glad I can cry and my heart feels like it's going to burst from the agony and pain. I want to remember it. I want to remember how much I loved him and how much he will be missed.

We were once a family.....

I wish someone would have told me - warned me - that things would change and not for the better. Perhaps I could have coped with the change or the loss of a place I had in life, if only I had just known what lay ahead. People define themselves by their connections to others; where they are born and when; are they first, second, third, etc. in the birth order. Who is talented in music, who can sing, who can draw or paint, or who is very very smart in science. Which one has a sweetness to them, which one is kind and friendly, which one is sharp, which one is mean, who has a short temper, which one doesn't care. You get the picture. It takes a long time to get to know your siblings, your parents, and everyone else in one's world. It takes a long time to figure out who you are, what you like, or don't like; and just when you think you have a handle on it (I'm skipping decades of experience here), something terrible happens -- your father dies and you have a great big hole inside that never goes away. That is what happened to me on November 17, 2010.


The story of my family begins in 1956 when my mother ran away for parts unknown. I was 5 years old, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Anyway, I never saw her again. My dad left soon after to work in southern California and I was left in the care of my grand-parents along with my sister and baby brother. About a year later, he came back to get us and took us to southern California to live with him and his new wife, Jan. It was a complete surprise to me - I had no warning - but, it was a wonderful surprise. I knew Jan and her three children when we lived in Texas, and liked her very much. We remained a family for a long time and I didn't realize that it had all fallen apart until it was really too late to do anything about it. That realization came after my dad died.


I call my mom, Jan, at least once a week to visit and catch up on what we've been doing all week. At first I still felt the connection with her after dad passed away; a bonding of the heart you might say. Then, she progressively sounded more and more distracted on the phone to the point that there was really no deep personal bond going on between us. She became more and more forgetful and not wanting to talk about the past at all. She couldn't remember past shared experiences and would say "I don't know or I don't remember" a great deal.


Today was another one of those "forgetful days" that ended in tears and frustration for me. Then, I suddenly realized that I don't have a childhood family anymore. It all ended with the death of my father. My brothers and sisters don't write or call or stay connected with me even though I send them birthday cards and Christmas cards each year and make a point to see them when I visit down there.
It's heartbreaking, gut wrenching, sad.

A Dream of my Dad

Early this morning I had a lucid dream -- lucid dreams seem real at the time, as though you are really living in that particular space and time and nothing else exists. I had a dream about my father. He died in November of 2010 and not a day goes by that I don't grieve for him. I wonder when it will stop. But, God sent me a happy dream about him today and it filled me with so much joy I wanted to cry -- and I did weep in my dream (which woke me up). In the dream I was with my Mom in her bedroom that she and Dad shared for over 50 years. We were laying on the bed and talking like we so often do or at least we did before Dad died. Suddenly I was aware that my Dad was also laying on the bed and I reached over and took his hand and stroked his hand lovingly. I looked at Mom and said to her that Dad was right here and I was holding his hand -- and asked her to hold his hand too. She looked at my hand as if she were blind and I could tell that she couldn't see Dad's hand holding mine. As I stated earlier, I was so happy I was crying and woke up pretty quickly. I laid in bed thinking about why Mom could not see Dad and I suddenly thought "she doesn't have faith". I thought about that for a while and realized that Mom has struggled with the concept of faith for as long as I can remember. She asked me years ago if I thought heaven was real -- she genuinely wanted to know. I don't think I convinced her. I view my dream as a confirmation from God - a gift that my Dad's soul is eternal and that I will see him again. I miss him more than one can express.

My Dad

I have been blessed to know my Dad for 59 years -- that's all of my life so far. He was a good man, kindly to me, sincere in his affections, and always welcoming. We had our struggle when I was a teenager just like so many others, but fortunately, our mutual respect and affection for one another won out and we enjoyed a warm friendship until his death, November 17th, 2010. What I remember most about Dad is the peacefulness and calmness that would envelope a room when he appeared; his quickness to laugh over something funny someone would say; his alertness to every nuance of feeling and mood of others; his desire to be helpful in giving good advice and counsel; his faithfulness in working every single day, long, hard hours until his knees finally gave out and he had to have surgery. He loved music and enjoyed hearing all of sing. Dad was very inventive and creative too and would talk to us about things he thought up to make something work better; he invented a rivet spacer tool, a wheel that measured exact distance of each rivet to specifications for aircraft production. He invented it to save time in his assigned task. The company, Consolidated Aircraft, gave him a whopping $50.00 for the invention. The patent rights went to the company. (sigh-we could have been rich!). He would make lunch pails out of empty cereal boxes for our lunches - I'm sure all the kids at school were envious! He also enjoyed fishing -- Dad's first experience in catching a fish was at the Klamath River. There he was, shoulder to shoulder with like minded men, intent on only one thing - catching a fish! Dad was so excited when he finally hooked one, that as he was reeling in the fish, it charged him and in order not to lose the fish he started running backwards as quickly as he could, tromping through an open burning camp fire and finally beaching the fish - a 25+ lb salmon. Boy was he ever proud of that fish! Well, I'll write more about my Dad as I think of all the experiences I had with him.