Monday, October 5, 2009

Happy Birthday, Daddy


Today is my dad's birthday, and I miss him.

I am thankful for the many wonderful years we had with him.  I am thankful for the things he taught me, the life he provided for our family, the way he loved his children (and their spouses and children), and especially the way he loved my mom.  But I miss him.

I miss being able to call to ask him what it means when a car makes this noise, what tool we need to fix this plumbing problem, or which road to take to shave time off a trip.  He was a natural mechanic, the World's Greatest Plumber, and he knew practically every road in the country.  And I miss him.

He's in a better place.  He is holding the 3 babies Dale and I have never held and telling everyone who walks through the gate the best way to navigate the streets of gold.  I'm pretty sure he's a greeter there, making certain people feel at ease, telling them the secret to getting the hot water turned on in the shower, and looking for my mom to join him.  Still, I miss him.

He didn't have much of a childhood.  He made certain we did.  He valued education for his children and put actions to his words when he earned his GED later in life.  He never met a stranger and was a favorite among the little old ladies of his church.  He had a million Okie-isms that we still repeat on an almost daily basis.  He had a twinkle in his eye which meant he was about to say something funny (and possibly inappropriate) or do something inappropriate (and most assuredly hilarious).  And he laughed the most contagious laugh.  I miss that, too.

I miss him when I smell coffee, eat barbeque, buy peanut butter in bulk, and drink ice cold milk.  I burn a ceremonial batch of cookies because he liked them crispy.  I see his eyes twinkle in my boys, I see his hands on my brother, I hear his laughter in us all.  And I miss him. 

I am thankful to have had the kind of dad that I get to miss.  I am thankful to have been able to embrace the process of grief without unfinished business.  No railing at God.  No bitterness about things past.  No lack of love on my part or his.  I got to just lean in and grieve.  I am so thankful for that.  But I miss him.

I'm not certain how birthdays work in Heaven, but I have a feeling today is an all-you-can-eat barbeque buffet. My dad, 3 babies in tow, is telling stories until people are snort-laughing and their sides are hurting.  At the end of the meal, those he just met are thinking that they are so glad he is there and how they would miss him if he wasn't.

I am familiar with that feeling.  I miss my dad.

8 comments:

Someday Suzy said...

Wow, you definitely made me cry with that one!

Elaine said...

Megan, I forgot that our dads shared a birthday. My dad would have been 82 today. So much of what you wrote about your dad described my dad, too. I knew your dad Lee, and he was all you have described. I thank him for the gift of his daughter and his laughter in her.

I miss my dad today, and know that he is in that barbeque line with Lee. Love you.

Sheri said...

You are so talented Megan. I know that since you are reflection of Dad and had I known him, I would have thought he hung the moon.

Sheri said...

See, you are gifted and I am not. There are a few errors in such a short note.... hope you catch the drift.

Crystal said...

You made me cry again. It's so hard not to be with our loved ones on their birthdays and all those other special days. I think you did a wonderful job of keeping his memory alive. Sometimes reading things like this have ways of comforting us on days like this and make the whole thing a little easier. I'll say a little prayer for you today. :)

Anonymous said...

I miss your Dad too! I loved the way he made me feel that I was his favorite of all your friends. I'm sure everyone felt that. (but we knew the truth!) It was one of his many gifts. I would have loved to have see our Dads together, they would have been great friends, just like us! Love you, Cathie

Tex said...

We all miss him Mama, i'm jus glad someone in this familiy can do him justice with words
Thank you mom

Spencer said...

too bad that your sons didnt get your writin genes...or spellin ones either huh TEX?
He was a good guy, but that doesnt justify you makin me cry with your blog mommy, we are gonna have to work on that.
and also, would it be considered a sin to be lookin forward to heaven most to see him again, and lettin jesus come a close second?
we all love and miss doo dad, but i like how we could still joke about him tonight while we were watchin tv, i wont say what was said but you remember...i think it goes to show what kinda life someone has had and what kinda impact they have made on lives when even after they are gone and have been for a while we can still laugh until we cry about something he said or the way he laughed, or even wardrobe malfunctions...still love me some vanilla coke from sonic too, and we all know who we have to thank for that.
love you mom...keep writin

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