Remembering My Dad

I lost my dad in November of 2019. In fact, it was exactly one year ago today that I found out that he passed away. I was away at a conference for the weekend. I still remember the disbelief that overtook me when I heard the news. I still remember the sudden burst of energy that came over me and allowed me to drive two and a half hours at 3:00 a.m. to be with my mom. (Well, the burst of energy and the angel that talked on the phone to me to keep me awake during the drive.)

Still in Shock

I still haven’t quite come to terms with losing my father. He wasn’t supposed to die before my mom. That’s not how I planned it in my head. Mom had been battling multiple myeloma for ten years and Dad had been her primary caregiver for all those years. He wasn’t in perfect health, but he surely wasn’t unhealthy enough to pass away after only complaining about not feeling well a few days prior. At least not in the story that I had written.

Dad’s passing was a harsh reminder for me that I’m not in control of my life. I’m also not in control of the lives of the people that I love. It was a reminder to me that no amount of planning that I do supersedes God’s plans.

Focus on the Memories, Not the Loss

Just like with the memories of my mom, I choose to focus on all of the good memories that I have of Dad. That’s what keeps me going. I sometimes think about what Dad would do or say about the current situations surrounding the pandemic, politics, and sports. He would definitely have something to say about all three and it would definitely be a combination of the things that he heard and seen on television throughout the week.

Here are other things that I remember and miss about my dad:

He loved my mom.
He loved me.
He loved my husband.
He loved my children.
He loved baseball. (I’ll always remember him taking me to Atlanta Braves’ games when I was little.)
He loved Alabama football. (I think I broke his heart when I decided to attend Auburn! No matter how hard I tried, or how much money he sent to Auburn, I could never get him to say War Eagle!)
He loved Steve Harvey (or “that fool” has he would affectionately call him because he couldn’t remember his name.)
He loved pretending that I disturbed his nap every single time I called the house.
He loved going to church.
He loved to sing.
He loved to cook. (But he didn’t like cleaning up behind himself when he finished cooking.)
He loved talking to people. Anybody. Didn’t matter who.
He loved being in charge (and letting you know that he was in charge).
He loved doing pop up visits to our house (especially early in the morning when he knew we were still asleep), only to sit for about five to ten minutes and then leaving.
He loved his family.
He loved his friends.

There Isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of my dad. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him.

I am thankful for the 40 years of memories that I have in my heart that will have to carry me through the rest of my life.