My Dad

(I wrote this on November 22^nd – the anniversary of the day he died – but I didn’t post it  because I got too sad thinking about him…)

Seventeen years ago today my dad was murdered.  I think about him nearly everyday.  The man that killed him is still in prison, and the woman that was an accomplice was out of jail after three years but now back in for killing someone.

I so wish he could have been a grandfather to Kaleb.  Kaleb’s not much into hunting and fishing, like my dad was, but he appreciates a well-told story, and boy, could my dad tell a story!  Whether it was true or not wasn’t the point, he was just a captivating storyteller and could keep me entertained for hours.  He was also a very smart man and would probably have many answers to Kaleb’s non-stop and persistent questions.  And I know, as proud as my dad was of me, he’d be busting his buttons over Kaleb’s accomplishments.  Kaleb has already exceeded any and all of my academic pursuits and he’s not even a teenager yet.  This past weekend he competed in a speech tournament with a bunch of high school kids, and did pretty well.  He came in first place among the novice competitors and 9^th place overall.  Just this week he completed a six-month Honors Algebra course with Johns Hopkins in three months and got an A-.  He’s one of the top students in his high school English class as well as his Physics class, and he’s by far the youngest one in both of those classes.  I often wonder how in the world he can excel so much, and then I remember my Dad.  One of my dad’s friends told me once that “He’s so smart it scares me.”  I’ve thought that a few times about Kaleb, as well.

It’s kinda cool thinking that even though my Dad is gone, some of his DNA lives on in Kaleb.  And I trust that God has broken any generational issues around the things that plagued my Dad and kept him from being as successful as he could have been.  He was bi-polar and self medicated with alcohol, so his light didn’t shine as bright as it could have, had he chose a different path.  I still miss him like crazy.  He loved me unconditionally and would have done anything for me.  I think he’s one of the reasons I feel so close to God – because I think of how much it pleased my dad to do stuff for me and I realize that God feels the same way toward us.  I grieve for those who had bad fathers because I do believe it hinders their impressions of our Heavenly Father. 

I feel blessed having known my real dad.  I wasn’t raised with him because my parents were divorced, but time does not diminish a person’s love, and it’s evident how much my dad loved me all the years we were apart, by how much he welcomed me into his life once I found him when I was 19.  It was one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life.  I am my father’s daughter and I’m so thankful I am made up of his parts.