See Ya Later, Dad
/This was a tough letter to write. A letter to a wonderful man that is not yet gone…but is going. It is difficult because it can never fully capture all of who my dad is to me, and so many others. My hope is that it at least give you, the reader, a taste of who this man was, and why I am proud to call him my dad.
How do I start a written piece like this? A piece I hope conveys to the reader how great my dad was. Yet also a piece which is my goodbye to a wonderful man I am honored to call dad. These words have been swirling in my head in one form or another for the past few weeks. I have thought about how to tell you these things, but one thing I did not inherit was the skill of speech. What I did inherit from you is the ability to convey my thoughts by putting them on paper. That and horrible spelling...and boy do we have horrible spelling.
A few months ago, as the bad news seemed to pile up in regards to your condition, I tried to encourage you with the motto, “come back with your shield, or on it”. A motto said to Spartan warriors as they headed off to battle. The shield was everything to the Spartans. It was the tool in battle that not only protected themselves, but their brother to the left and right of them. The only way a Spartan would lay their shield down in battle is if they were slain. At which point their brothers would carry them back on their shield to their loved ones.
For the past few years you have entered into the arena, to do battle with cancer, with your shield firming grasped in your hand. As cancer continued to beat you down, you held firm to your shield. But the day is fast approaching where your shield will fall from your hand as cancer lands its death blow. And when that happens your family will be here to carry you on your shield. We will be here to carry your legacy forward for generations to come. And what a legacy you have created.
For as long as I can remember, you have been a man that has taken pride in his work. A pride that leads you to do any task, no matter how large or small, to the best of your ability. Whether cleaning the toilet, or mopping the floor, you did the smallest things to the best of your ability. You knew a person would not take pride in the larger things if they didn't first take pride in the smaller things.
We saw you take pride in being a grocery store manager, grocery store inspector, manager of a print shop, and finally a business owner yourself. You never viewed any of these jobs as a means to an end. You viewed them all as if you were the owner and took pride in your work. You never viewed any of them as a way to make you financially comfortable. You treated them as a way to provide for your loved ones, and later for your community.
As a child I didn’t understand this dedication to your work. In fact, at times it would upset me that you were gone as much as you were. But now as an adult I am able to look back and see how beautiful a thing it is to work as you worked. You weren’t gone because you were seeking riches, you were gone because of your love for your family. You weren’t gone because you were a workaholic, you were gone because you were building a foundation for our family. You wanted us to start our own families on a better foot than you did. Your work always had a purpose that was larger than your comfort.
Now as an adult I also see that there isn’t a playbook on how to raise a family well. Not only is there not a playbook, but for half of your childhood you didn’t have the example of your father to look to as an example. As a child I thought you should have all the answers and always be there. It would frustrate me that you didn’t live up to the little ideal world I had created in my head. But now as my children are becoming young adults I realize you were figuring it out alongside us. Your children were each uniquely different than you. All with different passions and personalities. And as a father you were trying to figure out how to raise and lead people that were different than you. Your goal was never to make us clones of who you were, but encourage us to grow into the strengths God gave us. To use our personalities in service to God and to others.
After 9/11 happened, and I told you I was joining the Marines in service to my country. You never once questioned it. You knew once I set my mind on something that it was difficult to change it, so you encouraged me instead. When I left for my first deployment you never expressed any fear for what might happen to me. You told me you would pray for me, and that you would see me when I returned. My boys are now a few short years off from being to the age they could make a similar decision as I did, and I am beginning to taste the fear I know you had to have had. The fear of knowing that as a father that you are no longer your child’s protector. The fear of submitting your children to God over and over.
The funny thing about raising kids in the way God has gifted them, is that many times they end up a lot like you anyway. I see you in all of us kids in some way, shape, or form.
I know for sure I have your stubbornness. A stubbornness that at times frustrates our spouses. Yet also a stubbornness to fight for what is right. A stubbornness to fight for a crumbling marriage...even if at times we don’t want to. A stubbornness to put our nose to the grindstone to accomplish what we set out to do. I am convinced the best way to get either of us to do something, is to tell us that we can’t do it. Nothing lights a fire under us more than someone telling us something can’t be done.
I see you in Eric and his love for hunting, as well as how he runs the business you started. He has a passion for work to not only provide for his family, but to serve anyone who walks through the door of the business with love, compassion, and dignity.
I see you in Mandi in the way she loves people. She loves people so deeply, at times at a great cost to herself. But you sacrificially loved all those you came in contact with no matter the cost to yourself.
I am beginning to see you in our kids in a magnitude of little ways.
You set out to raise us in the way God created us, but in the process you left your fingerprints all over us. You imprinted a legacy on each of our lives, and those you came in contact with.
Most importantly though, you raised us for hardships such as this. You raised us to know that this world is a broken and fatal place. It doesn’t matter how much good we do, how hard we work, or how much we love others, in the end we will stand before God and give an account for our lives. And in that moment the only decision that will matter is if we put our faith in the saving grace of Jesus Christ.
You are an amazing dad that did amazing things, but you know you were also a broken man leading a broken family. Because of this you knew the only important thing was to show us the beauty of Christ and pray that we would follow in your footsteps in submitting our lives to the work He did on the cross.
I know I fail daily to live a life that shows others the love of Jesus, but because of you I know that isn’t what saves me. It is Christ and Christ alone. It doesn’t matter how well I raise my family, how well I work, or how well I serve others. In fact, it is only by submitting my will to God’s that I can do any of those things well.
So as you prepare to stand before God, go knowing that you got the most important thing right. Go knowing you not only taught us how to live right, but you taught us the thing that will save our souls. None of your successes or failures in life matter more than that.
I am struggling to find the words to close this out, as I have struggled finding the right words above to express how great a dad you are. There is also a piece of me that doesn’t want to close this out because there is something so final about it. It is the final letter of a boy to his dad. How do you sum up something so final and important?
I know I can never fill your shoes. But you wouldn’t want me to anyway. You would want me to raise my family in my own unique way. You would want me to care for mom - and man did you care for her well - in a way that makes her feel uniquely loved. You would want me to find the ways to use the way God has gifted me to serve others well. The only thing you would not want me to do differently is in sharing the good news of the gospel with others. And it is in that hope that this isn’t a “goodbye”, but rather a “see you later”.
I couldn’t have asked for a better father. Never once have I felt unloved by you. I am honored and blessed to call you dad. Say hello to your dad for me. I love you, dad.