June Isn't Just my Aunt's Name

It's June and June isn't just my aunt's name.  My Daddy had a sister named June.  Which brings me to the topic of this post.  My Daddy.  I couldn't put that in the name of the post because I couldn't type it without crying.  Which is pretty much where I've been at for the last month.  I've had lots of good things happening and I've got several great blog entries in progress, but this one, this one had to be done.  
If you are new to reading my blog, my Dad died from complications of Alzheimer's in March of last year.  I am a self-proclaimed Daddy's Girl, though I believe most everyone else would proclaim it on my behalf as well.  When Daddy died, it. was. the. hardest. thing. ever.  I had no idea how hard it would be.  And I just kept saying that to anyone who would listen, "I had no idea it would be this hard!"  Well, you know what?  I'm still saying it, 'cuz it's still hard. 
This week, I was thinking about church on Sunday.  We always do special, nice things for Mother's Day and Father's Day - giveaways and special songs, sometimes the kids do something that is always really cute.  I've always enjoyed those days, both as a mother and as a daughter.  But, this week, I was thinking about all of the people, sitting in the pews, whose Daddy isn't beside them.  Perhaps, their Dad is estranged from them or has died.  There are so many different scenarios in both functional and dysfunctional families that I can't even begin to give each of them space here.  There are those who have no father at all.  Right now, you are thinking I'm crazy -- everybody has a father, right?  Not quite.  I don't.  Not in the way you might think.  I'll explain that in a minute.  So, we are all in church enjoying our songs and specials, our gifts and giveaways, honoring those Dads that ARE there with us.  I'm glad we do this.  Dads deserve that and SO MUCH MORE!  But, a part of my heart is hurting for those whose Dad isn't there.  Like mine.  Often, a pastor or church leader will address those folks and give them a moment in the service, acknowledging their pain, and I am glad that it doesn't go unmentioned.  But, the hurt doesn't stop when the moment passes.  You might think I am making a mountain out of a molehill with this, I mean, c'mon, everybody loses somebody to death sometime or another, right?  Can I let you in on something?  It doesn't matter that everybody loses somebody sometime, when you lose your somebody?  It hurts.  It hurts bad.  And it hurts long.  And my Daddy was my somebody.  Up until now, I'd experienced the death of aunts, uncles, grandparent, father-in-law and friends....even a tiny baby that had barely been given a chance to grow.  Now, that one, I didn't think I could endure.  It was only at the altar of Jesus' feet I was able to grieve that loss.  
And now, here I am, 15 months after I sat with my mother and sister and watched my Dad's last breath leave his body and I am crying like a baby, trying to hide my tears from my own children so they won't worry that Mommy's gone off the deep end...again.  And I've been leaving my tears at Jesus' feet for months and months and they are still coming.  I'm so glad that my Jesus is interceding for me -- where on Earth would I be if He weren't?
I don't know my biological father.  And that is totally ok with me.  Because the man who I call Daddy is my biological grandfather and to quote my own words from back in March of 2012, "he chose to be my father and I am ever so grateful."  There have been some who have suggested that he did not, in fact, choose me to be his daughter, but actions speak louder than words, friends, and Daddy showed me day after day that I was his and he was mine.  Surprisingly, it was later in my life as an adult when he made it most apparent.   As Alzheimer's began to ravage his mind, he continued to be affectionate to those he loved.  I've heard so many stories of loved ones' who became combative and hostile to their loved ones but we were so blessed in that Daddy's personality never left him, even the parts we sort of wished would have, like his penchant for flirting!  I don't mean for this blog entry to be a memorial to Dad or even a historical retelling, but all of these things have been rolling around in my head for weeks now!  One more thing and then I'll move on to the real reason for my post....what I miss the most every day is when Daddy would rise from a meal, any meal from split pea soup (which he hated) to a steak dinner (which he loved), he would give me a hug and tell me thank you for the meal, that it was good.  He thanked me and my husband, David, at least once a month for taking care of him and Mom the last four years of his life.  He thanked me when I brought him a sweater, when I brought him a cold drink after his walk.  He was gentle, kind, longsuffering, loving and patient.  He exemplified the gifts of the spirit in so many tangible ways.  Matthew 7 speaks of how men shall know a good tree by its fruit and I have to say that my Dad's life bore so much fruit not just in my life but in so, so many others.  
Earlier this week, I was in the drugstore shopping for a Father' Day card for my husband.  Without even thinking, after I'd selected the one I wanted, I began browsing the cards for "Dads from Daughters".  I was two or three cards in before I realized what I was doing, but by then I had found one that I wanted to give my Daddy!  It said this --

Remember when I was young
and you thought everything you said
went in one ear and out the other?
Well, it didn't.
I took those words with me
and they have guided me
through the ups and downs of life..
And although you may not always see yourself
when you look at me, you wouldn't believe how much of you
has become a part of me.
Thank you for inspiring me to be the person I am today.  
Happy Father's Day, I Love You

It occurred to me after I bought and paid for this card, which I realize was somewhat foolish given the rising cost of greeting cards, that my Dad may have given me the absolute greatest gift in the world, both in life and in death.  As I've been dealing with my health issues these last 18 months, one of the things that have rarely been a problem for me has been my feeling as though God was not with me.  I've had some desperate, painful times as well as some times that I felt as though God wasn't answering, but I never felt that God had left me.  Would I have felt that way had I not had a godly example of a father here on Earth, showing me that no matter what the emergency, he would be there?  Showing me that even when I messed up, he still loved me?  Showing me that even in his last breaths he had enough energy to put his arm around me and tell me he loved me?  I hid a lot of my pain from my Dad in his last months of life because it worried him so much.  He would sit and stew about it and ask what he could do to help and if I'd been to see a doctor so it was just easier on him if I didn't say anything about it at all.  But, he was always there even when we weren't talking about it, just like God has always been here these last 18 months, even when we weren't talking about it.  

I love my Daddy, but I love my Heavenly Father more and I am so glad that God ordains, allows, even commands fathers to love their children and to raise them in the fear and admonition of the Lord.  My Dad and I were baptized together when I was five years old.  My life was nowhere near picture perfect and my Dad was nowhere near perfect, but he loved Jesus Christ and he loved me, and I believe he did his very best job as our Heavenly Father's ambassador modeling Christ's love for his children.  

I know this may prick the hearts of those of you who may not have had this relationship with your fathers, but let it be an encouragement rather than sadden you -- you can change the course of the future either through your actions or by coming alongside your husband and helping him to be the very best ambassador for Christ that he can be.  I want other kids in this world to know what I know.  My kids will know, not just because of the legacy my Daddy left but because of the legacy their Daddy is instilling in them even now, right this minute as he prepares them for bed and reads their devotion and instills in them a love for the truths of the Word and a desire to honor and obey him so that they will honor and obey their Heavenly Father.  

When you go to church this Sunday, spend a little extra time with those who are grieving.  There may be one whose father died 30 years ago or more and he still gets a little emotional on Father's Day.  There may be a woman there whose Dad has been gone for several years but she still tears up when she sings a song about heaven.  Spend a moment with these folks   and let them know God's comfort.  It does make a difference.  It makes the day not just bearable, but perhaps even enjoyable and it helps those that are grieving to know they are not forgotten.  

I hesitate to publish this.  It is raw, not much editing and probably some errors as I've done nothing but cry through the whole thing, but one thing I have learned in my pain these last months is that it doesn't do a bit of good to hide your heart, God can see it and goodness knows if more of us shared our hearts with each other, the world would be a better place and there'd be a lot of psychologists out of a job!  

Do you have a special memory of your Dad or something you do each year to commemorate Father's Day in a special way?  Please share in the comments.  I'd like to hear them.