Good Grief

My dad turned 83 last week… but we didn’t gather to celebrate his birthday. Instead, we gathered for his funeral.

I’m home now.

It’s quiet.

And I am becoming reacquainted with grief.

It’s an unpredictable companion – sometimes subdued, sometimes severe – but one I know is best to welcome rather than turn away.

My sorrow comes and goes, intermingled with bittersweet memories and quiet wonder as I try to imagine heaven. Sometimes grief feels like fear – gripping, haunting. Other times, like a long shadow. Sometimes it feels disorienting – like vertigo of the heart.

But mostly… sadly… it feels familiar.

And I remember again that along this grief-road, with its heartache and tears, there are scattered graces of God.

And I count those.

I had the kind of dad who made it easy to believe that God is a good Father. A protector, provider, counselor and comforter.

Dad’s care gave me a glimpse of God’s… and he deserves endless thanks for all he did in his 82 years. First, he married Louise. (She turned out to be the best mom ever. … good choice!) The two of them – with God’s help – shaped my brother and me to become the people we are. It’s true what they say: kids will do what you do, not necessarily what you say. Our parents were incredible role models. 

I’m grateful to have had a dad who worked hard, but never seemed to bring his office stress home. He was a dad who laughed and played with us, but also parented with purpose. He and mom taught us the big things: work hard, have a good attitude, make wise choices, enjoy the ride. (Realizing now how fast it goes.)

I’m grateful to my dad for teaching me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to do algebra… and more importantly, how to live a life of faith, how to set goals and accomplish them, how to share with others. For positive reinforcement, Dad would always treat us to dinner when we got good grades. (I once ordered the market price lobster at the fancy steakhouse in town. Understandably, Dad wasn’t thrilled.)

Dad brought home the bacon and sometimes fried it up too – with eggs or chicken livers (still can’t believe he convinced me to eat those). 

He took us on family vacations, drew maps so I didn’t get lost every time I left our driveway and made April Fools’ Day a major holiday! He mowed the grass, changed the lightbulbs, shoveled the snow, took out the trash. Again and again and again. Dad prayed for us and cheered us on in everything we did. And gave us painfully long, boring “corrective interviews” when we needed them. The “long and boring” were effective deterrents.

Our folks gave us sweet childhood memories:

Christmases in Connecticut, lively family dinners, Yahtzee and backgammon at the kitchen table, church potlucks, summer vacations, backyard baseball and snowball fights. (Notice all my memories revolve around travel, food, fun and games!)

A couple stand out:

We took a trip to Jamaica when Rick and I were teens. I got cornrow braids and thought I was so cool. I also got the sunburn of the century. Dad told me to level up on sunscreen… I declined. Poor decision. (Father knows best.)

And then there was the time I totaled the car one week after I turned 16. I missed a stop sign, hit another car and totaled both. I was so scared to call my father… I kept saying to the police officer: “my dad’s gonna kill me.” And then he showed up and hugged me and asked if I was ok. I’m sure the officer thought I was half crazy because Dad was so kind and comforting. You know what he said to me?

“Cars can be fixed; people can’t. I’m just thankful you’re ok.”

I’ll never forget that moment. Amazing grace.

Another vivid memory was my high school academic-honors-track freakout session. It was September and I was already a total stress case. And my dad taught me probably the most important lesson of my life thus far:

Worry is a waste of time and mental resources. Control the things you can (your attitude and effort) and leave the rest to God. And I took that to heart. It was a good beginner lesson in really trusting God. 

Dad was a good teacher and excellent problem-solver. He had a great goofball sense of humor, an incredible affinity for history/geography/sports trivia and a freakish ability to retain details and statistics. 

He was our family’s:

History buff

Birdwatcher

Human GPS

Sports fanatic

Life coach

Proud Pop

To his grandkids, he was an example in the most important way… to be like our Heavenly Father – the very best Storyteller, Gift Giver and Friend.

Dad really enjoyed sharing a good story. Often more than once… or 10 times.

Dad held his people close and invested in each one. He believed the best even when we didn’t deserve it, was fiercely devoted and always saw our potential – a lot like our Father God. 

He was extravagant in his generosity. He lived modestly and gave lavishly… And supported every ministry, mission and meaningful pursuit out there.

He was generous to a fault.

Faults… yes, in our family we try to keep it real. Dad had a few shortcomings, as we all do. 

He was stubborn – a unique brand (Swiss and sweet). Swiss means extra stubborn and sweet means he didn’t have a hurtful bone in his body. He’d just look up at you – the picture of congeniality – and say “I’m not doing that.”

(Got it.)

He had other faults too. He could be impatient, irritable, dismissive. 

Like my dear ol’ dad, we’re all made in God’s image… but we come up short sometimes. My mom used to have this bumper sticker on her car:

Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven.

She knew that if you’re a follower of Jesus, it’s inevitable you wind up looking like an awful hypocrite sometimes. By that I mean, we want to be like Christ and – hopefully over time – we reflect Him more brightly, but often, we get in our own way. Our selfishness and sin simmer to the surface and spill out… I know mine does… and sometimes Dad’s did too.

Knowing that, the best way I can continue his legacy is this: to share the path to forgiveness he found. Actually it’s not a path. It’s a person…

Jesus.

He loves you to death… and forever after.

I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”

And the one sitting on the throne said, “Look, I am making everything new!” And then he said to me, “Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.” ~ Revelation 21: 3-5 (NLT)

This isn’t goodbye, Daddy-O… it’s see you later.

I love you… and I’ll always be your little girl.

Wendy