Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.
Gloria Naylor
We don’t typically celebrate Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day. I realized a long time ago that if we can’t express our love for each other everyday then indulging the market for cards, flowers restaurant meals, etc. to appease our guilt would mean nothing.
But today I am thinking of my father, my daddy. He died in November 2004 but I have felt his absence more clearly this year than ever before. We had no start to speak of. My parents divorced by the time I was two and evidently things happened that complicated life to the point that I didn’t see him, he didn’t see me. Though we lived minutes apart, I only remember a few visits to his house, one last one at Easter when I was seven and no more until my senior year in high school. Even then, I initiated our reunion and subsequent visits. That was our start … two people who were strangers who shouldn’t have been. A history based on no history.
It was difficult to develop a relationship but I persevered and so did he. I moved away when I married Chris, making our progress challenging but he visited me in Memphis. Once we moved back to Greenville, Christmas celebrations became very important to him. The relationship was still not smooth and I thought the final chance had passed when he retired to Surfside Beach. Little did I know then that would be the beginning of the best years.
In 1997, I spent four days with my Daddy. The longest I had been with him under one roof in my memory. I was so nervous abou that trip. But we had all the kids … seven at that time, and the eighth due within weeks. They are a great distraction. It ended up being the most wonderful visit and the first of many. As we left, he stood in the driveway, waving and signing “I love you” with his hand … stayed there until he could no longer see our van driving away. The first of many traditions that would mark our times together.
A watermelon always sat by the stairs, awaiting our arrival
Sun-warmed pecan twirls passed out at the beach
Coming down the stairs in the early morning, I would see Daddy sitting in his chair. Most of the time, we would be the first ones awake. I would sit on the end of the couch nearest him, drinking a cup of coffee. Just content to be near him.
Little jokes that he told every visit to my kids … they tell them now to each other. For instance, he would always tease them and tell them that someone had pulled the plug on the ocean, the water was all gone and there could be no beach visit.
He included us in his plans. We visited their friends, went to their church, volunteered with him.
The first of our papa runs … pizza and Krispy Kreme donuts. A lot of our traditions revolved around food … Daddy loved food!
Much of our healing came after a particular Christmas. He was so adamant that year that we ALL be there and became anxious as people kept stepping out to smoke a cigarette. It was because he had something to say. That night, he asked for our forgiveness for not being there when we wre growing up, for the hurt it caused us. He called each of us up and placed his hands on our heads and prayed a blessing over our lives. That was the turning point.
I had the privilege of enjoying a beautiful relationship with him for the few years we had left together. My one regret is that after he was diagnosed with cancer, I didn’t deal with it well. I didn’t call as much as I should have or take advantage of seeing him more. I was in huge denial and just didn’t want to deal with the reality that he would be gone soon and therefore, I missed opportunities. But I was there when he died. When we walked into the hospital room, expecting him to be unconscious, he looked over at us and asked question he always asked first, “Did you make good time?” So funny that he would always figure out how long it took us to get there, congratulating us on making it in good time. I fed him the last bite of food he would ever take, I read to him and sang to him and was able to hear him say one last time, “Hey honey”. I was there when we took him home to die and I was by the bed when he took his final breath.
He and I were a testimony to reconciliation, redemption and love and grace. It’s a beautiful story and I don’t do it justice with these mere words typed through tears.
The day he was diagnose with pancreatic cancer, he called me. Once again, he had something to say. He wanted me to know how proud he was of Chris, that Chris is a good man, a wonderful husband and father. He was just so happy to know that I had this man in my life.
I am too.
So on this day, I think of him as well.
Chris, I looked over at you last night, as you were sleeping and I spoke grateful words. I am so thankful that you walked into that storeroom twenty-five years ago, that you fell in love with a pregnant woman and became the father to her and the many yet to come. You have lived out such a wonderful definition of love toward us. You are patient and kind and selfless. Thank you for your giving heart, for the experiences that you have given us. Thank you for being a man that made my Daddy proud. I love you.