For Daddy

My dad was the best man that I have ever known, the best father a child could ever have, and the best example of a generous man that anyone could ever look to. The memories that I have of my dad are simple: hitting a baseball in the back yard after school, taking long bike rides on Sunday afternoons (but only during the boring part of the Nascar races), and going to Sunday school every weekend…but they are the best memories. As I got older, the memories changed, but my dad’s dedication as a father didn’t, even when it meant supporting me in something that he didn’t necessarily agree with. Because that’s what kind of man my dad was: strongly opinionated, but ultimately committed to being the best father that he could be. The fact that he was such a good dad has meant that every day since he has been gone, my world has been a little darker, a lot scarier, and much less funny. And daddy would hate that.

He hated the idea of someone being sad, and if it meant cracking inappropriate jokes or teasing someone to make them smile, he would do it. Even in the worst of times, daddy could find a way to make someone smile…and that is exactly how he would want to be remembered.

There are no words to adequately describe the sense of loss felt by my family, my dad’s church family, and his friends today.

I have no idea how we’re supposed to move forward without him, how I’m supposed to explain to my son why he can’t call his papa 6 times a day just because he wants to, or how I’m ever going to be able to manage sitting in church without looking over and seeing him at the end of the pew. But starting tomorrow, I’m going to wake up every day and try, because that’s what daddy would want me to do, that’s what daddy would insist that I do, that’s what would make my dad proud. And if I can make him just a fraction of how proud he’s made me, I’ll be doing okay.