August 18, 2013
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Sunday Musings
I always thought that my Daddy would live a long, long time. I thought he would be one of these wizened old men, running around, working and gardening and visiting and traveling. I thought that he would continue to have things to say for our church and that he would be a wellspring of counsel and encouragement to people in general, his family in particular.
I don’t know why he had to die at 76. Maybe it was the exposure to the insecticides and pesticides that he used on the farm that turned his skin yellow in the summer breezes when he sprayed his fields. They didn’t have the restrictions and warnings and even the protection then that they do now. He didn’t like to farm. The work was hard and so often things were unpredictable in the un-irrigated acres that were Fair Hope Farm. I suspect that he welcomed the chemicals that seemed to make life easier. It’s hard to farm with a two bottom plow and a two row cultivator. It was far easier than the horses that his Papa used to work the same fields through the Great Depression and the decades following, but the work was non-stop and even with the “modern conveniences” it was a grind.
When Daddy went to work at the Country Rest Home in the early 70′s, he was still a young man in his early 40′s. As a family, we were uncertain as to how this would work out and we actually tried to talk him out of it. He said that he would follow our wishes, but we knew that he desperately wanted something different than the farm. In the end, Daddy did what he wanted to do. (As he usually did!) There were challenges there, and he wasn’t always happy, but he had a dream, and he held on and he expanded his life beyond the confines of his business and he did well. Not only with the vision that made the Country Rest Home what it is today, but in things that involved relationships, church planting, people business and especially his six children, their spouses and his 27 grandchildren. He lived to see eight of those grandchildren married, and to hold some of his great grandchildren.
Yesterday, as I was contemplating where my life is now, and the fact that I have a book that we are ready to market, that Daniel and I are ready to celebrate 40 years together, the offspringin’s are coming home, and I turn 60 in two short months — it seemed like my mind is unable to shake thoughts of my Daddy.
What would he think?
What would he say?
Would he be proud of his girl?
He was such an encourager, and he often gave me reason to think thoughts way bigger than myself. I think he would be pleased. He wouldn’t know quite what to think about some of the stories. He would be surprised to find himself in some.
I don’t know what he would say, or think or do.
But I wish I did.
I wish I did.
I just never thought that one of the by products of this dream come true would be fresh grief over a loss that is 2799 days old.
Can he really be so long gone?
It feels so new.
Comments (7)
It will be the same for our offspring after we’re gone. Some of the things they didn’t appreciate when they were young will become their fondest memories, I suspect. I am approaching 74 and my dad, 96. Already, I am hearing “favorite stories” about Dad and Mom (who’s been gone 3 years now) from my children.I hope you advise us on the publication and availability of your book.
I share the feelings that you express so well.
I think your Dad is looking down and smiling at the woman you have become and proud of the fact that it matters to you what he thinks after all this time !
I’m sure your dad is proud of you. My dad’s been gone 6 years now. He lived to be 92. I miss him, and wish our relationship had been closer. A divorce when I was 10, and a stepmom who really didn’t like us, plus living a long way away, meant we weren’t as close as we could have been. I know he loved Jesus though, and I’ll see him again some day.
Yes, I also miss my Dad! He passed on 12 years ago, age 86. Farming is hard work. It gave him spinal damage, carrying heavy feed buckets and hay bales. He was a very good man, a lot like your father.
Just happened on your blog and was drawn to your post about your father. My father also died at 76 a year and a half ago and it seemed that he died too early. We still miss him desperately, but our hope is in the Resurrection.
I have an ex-neighbor who was taken off life support today. His large family is gathered around him and the six children have been occasionally posting thoughts on Facebook. The first sentence of your post, along with your username caught my attention because of this. We’re in Ohio so the buckeye reference really stands out. No matter how long it’s been the loss is still there, and I think it’s a lovely testament to your father that you still think of him and his life with a sense of loss. I think the bigger the piece of our heart they take the longer it hurts.