When I Finally Make It Home

For several months now I 've comtemplated writing a blog about my father. Every time I began one, however, I deleted it. I just could never seem to put into words what I wanted to say about him, or his death. "We grieve, but not as those who have no hope." I Thess. 4:13

My dad was stern, but fair. He never wanted to say anything bad about anyone and if he ever did he would always end up regretting it and saying, "I really shouldn't talk about them like that, you never know what's going on with someone." My dad told alot of jokes, stories, and had a good sense of humor. He was loved and respected. He was a talented teacher and cared about everyone he ever met. He invested in people and wanted to believe that there was good in everyone. He worked hard and loved his family.

If my dad had been able to see into the future. If even a year ago he had glimpsed the morning that he would die, he would have sadly smiled.  He woke up, drank his coffee, started getting ready to go to work, and went home to be with the Lord. I don't think he'd have written a different ending to that story.

What you may not know is that my dad loved working. He never wanted to retire. He had no desire to fish, hunt, or do any extra reading. In fact, I can remember him telling me once years ago, he wanted to teach until the day he died because it was his passion.

Since his passing, people often wonder how I'm doing. I miss him. I miss him so much that sometimes I have a stomach ache all day. I cry a little less all the time. I don't cry because he's gone though. I don't cry because I wish he was still here. I cry because my little boys will never run into their grandpa's arms. I cry because Joshua will never say I love you grandpa, and because Jonas never had a chance to meet my dad here on earth.

I see my dad sometimes here and there. I see him in Joshua smirky smile, in Jonas's laugh. I even hear him sometimes in the advice I give, and something I treasure is knowing that he saw himself in me.

After the funeral was over and I was getting ready to head back home, I asked my mom what I could do to help her. I told her I'd come home whenever she needed me.  I'd do whatever she wanted. I asked if she needed help boxing things up, filing insurance papers, anything. She only told me one thing, "Whenever you miss your dad, and you start to cry and feel sad that he's gone, you go and get your boys, pull them in real close, hold them tight and tell them that their grandpa loved them very much. That's all you need to do for me."

I do that everyday. When I think of my dad and my eyes start to fill with tears, I go get Jonas and I take him over to Joshua, I pull them in real tight and tell them, " Your grandpa loved you so much." Then before one tear can spill over, I get up, wipe my eyes, and pull myself together. They may not see their grandpa here on earth again, but they'll know him. They'll know what a good man he was and how much he cared for everyone. They'll know, because I'll never stop telling them.

Not that long ago I heard a song on the radio by Mercy Me. I'd heard it a million times before but never felt a connection to it. Then just as it began, it hit me hard as the first line unfolded, "I'm gonna wrap my arms around my daddy's neck and tell him that I've missed him." Frozen in that moment a tear ran down my cheek and I thought that's exactly what I'm going to do when I finally make it home.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnTu0i9cj-I&feature=related