Today my dad would have been 87 years old. I can barely wrap my head around that. Maybe all daughters do it, but I sort of “freeze-dried” my dad at around 40 years old. Prime of his life. Ministering; writing songs; raising three kids and loving life and my mom.
Why is it that I think of all the perfect questions to ask him after he’s gone? It doesn’t matter that I’m almost 60…I still have questions that only dad could answer. So now I ask my heavenly Father. Which is what my dad would have wanted.
If I can speak honestly, and from my heart, it’s just not quite the same. Please don’t take that wrong. I love God and talk to Him on a regular basis…sometimes continuously throughout my day. (Yes it is possible)
What I’m saying is that I just miss the actual conversations. The back and forth. The feedback; the input; the facial expressions; the laughter; tears; the working it out. The hug; the kiss on the forehead; the pat on the shoulder. Hand holding; eye contact. The call in the middle of the night to see how you’re doing; the post cards in the mail from his travels that reminded me how much I’m loved.
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish he were here to answer a question for me or to get encouragement from. I miss little things that were just about the two of us. One of those little things was the joy of buying him his ties. I know that sounds strange, but my dad’s “work uniform” was a suit and tie. He was a minister. He had beautiful suits. Mom was the master at picking out gorgeous suits and shirts for him. I, however, was the one who loved picking out his ties. When it came to men’s wardrobes, I was the tie-picker. So, on Sunday mornings, it was not unusual for me to stand in front of him and help him with his tie. The straightening and the choosing of the perfect tie-tack. It was just one of those things I loved doing and I think he appreciated.
I could go on and on, but I’m certain you get it by now. I just miss my dad. I know I’ll see him again someday. He won’t wear suits and ties; he probably won’t be sitting at the piano with me while we play and sing one of his songs, and there won’t be any Word Power Quizzes in the Readers Digest to work through after eating dinner. Bottom line? The next time I see him, it will be different, for sure. Our surroundings; the air we breathe, the ground we walk on…all of it, will be new and amazing. But when we see each other, the love between us will be recognized. Familiar and true.
I am so grateful to have had him as my dad here on earth for as long as I did, yet sad that it couldn’t have been much longer. The only thing I have to say about that is, “Father Knows Best.” (heavenly Father, that is).
Happy birthday dad.
Pam
Pam Torres | Author 