Wednesday, January 7, 2009

For Just A Day

Today is my dad’s birthday. He passed away 7 years ago, and while I miss him deeply, I take an abundant amount of comfort in knowing that he is experiencing something now that truly makes me envious. Yet, I would be lying to say that there aren’t certain days, or moments, which make me feel the ache of missing him a little more than others.

I would never wish upon him this broken world that he’s left behind, or the broken body that he’s free of now. But I do sometimes wish he could come hang out for a just day or two. I wish he would have had the chance to meet my nieces. I know that he would take absolute joy in them. I love to picture the delight in his eyes, and the childish grin he’d be unable to contain while doting on them.

I want him to meet the man I married, and spend a day watching football together with him. I want Caleb and Jacob to go fishing with him.

I wish he could see the grace with which Meghan has grown into her role of mother, and shake hands with the godly man that she’s committed herself to. I want him see how selfless Chad is in everything he does, and see what an honorable man, father, husband, and brother he is. I want to hear him laugh with Matt, and see how excited he gets for the things that he’s passionate about.

I want to draw with him. I want him to see the Jelly Bean Machine that Chad made for me for Christmas. I want him to watch Meghan with her girls, and to see her finish a triathlon. I want him to recognize his own sense of humor and sparkle mirrored in Matt’s eyes. I want him to see the ways that he’s woven into each of us, and I want to tell him how proud it makes me to know that I’m his daughter.

I know the value of dwelling in the joy of where he’s at, rather than hanging on the ache of where he no longer is. Still, it brings a smile to my face to wish for just a day or two, bittersweet as that wish may be. And if I’m really going to be honest with myself, a tinge of that bittersweet ache may be due more in part to my jealousy than to his absence; because as much as I long to invite him into my world for just a day, oh how much greater it would be to be invited into his world- to see that what he’s seeing- for just a day.


Lynn said...

Wow. This is an absolutely beautiful tribute to your father and his memory. You have been able to put words to the feelings of missing a loved one so poignantly. Thank you for posting this.

Erin K. said...

What a sweet post. Thanks for a reminder to appreciate the special people in my life. =)

Also, thanks for stopping by my blog yesterday. I'm glad you found the idea useful!

Kim said...

Molly Molly,Molly,
You don't know how much that meant to me to hear you say. You write so beautifully. I wish your Dad could still see what a special little girl he had when he had you and what a godly young woman you've become. Somehow I think he can. He would be so proud of you. I can still hear his laugh and I know of the childish grin and sparkle in his eyes you speak of. He was such a tease. My girls loved him intensely and still remember his sense of humor as if it were yesterday. Selfishly I wish he could meet my grandchildren and give them someone to love and remember too. To have known him is to love him.
I miss him too.
Aunt Kim

Amy said...

Molly, you have me in tears! I loved your Dad so much - his wonderful sense of humor, and playful ways!! I still love hearing stories told about him and remember the times we all spent together laughing and playing growing up. I can't tell you what a joy it's been to get in touch with you and your siblings after all these years - It's been a reminder of your dad as I see so much of your dad in just makes me smile. No doubt, he would be so proud of each one of you. He was a special man and I can't wait for the day we all meet again! Thank you for your words, you have touched my heart today! Love you!