Missing Dad on His Birthday

This time of the year I get lost in missing Dad on his birthday. He would have been 94 on September 24. He’s been gone since 1979. It’s been so long. Even though I still celebrate in one fashion or another there’s a pain that never goes away.

What he’s missing

If Dad was still here, he’d have the privilege of celebrating his day with his children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. Even though he never liked anyone fussing over him, I’m certain there’d be cake for his day. I think he’d appreciate the gesture. Maybe he and I would make it together, just like we used to do. Yellow box cake with chocolate frosting. His favorite.

What we’re missing

Today, he would be a source of strength for the family as we suffer and work through other losses.  One of his sons died too soon, as did a grandchild. He would have known what to say. He would have known how to offer comfort.

He was good that way.

I miss our hours of conversation. About what makes me happy, what moves my heart. I’m certain the talks would get around to hunting. Of course, my earliest recollection of “hunting” included a thermos of warm milk, a slice of pie, and a pocket full of Brach’s Cinnamon candies. When my goodies were gone, I was finished hunting.

Hunting was such a large part of his life. My brothers and I would remind him that once we were old enough he’d take us out, allowing us to carry our own gun. He spent hours with us, his points of pride and joy, reviewing guns and safety rules. He taught all of us not to ever point a gun at anyone because terrible things could happen and there may be no going back. He was a stickler on gun safety.

After his stories and lectures,  I know he’d laugh and tell some of his favorite stories. He’d make sure we each played a starring role in these stories. Then, his voice would go soft. He’d tell us, again, that he didn’t hunt much anymore. It wasn’t the same now that his kids grew up and left home.

The irony of it all.

What’s left

That’s why today is so terribly sad. When Dad was at a low point in his life … when he felt there was no going forward … when he felt there was more bad than good … he ended his life. With a gun.

How could I believe life would be good after he did that?

How could I believe life would be good after he did that?

It took many years of making my own mistakes and trying to control all the bad around me to realize he was wrong. I believed him on so many topics, but this one thing—this last thing—I chose not to believe. Instead, I chose and still choose, to rely on my other father, my Heavenly Father. He tells me a different story. He says he’ll never leave me nor forsake me (Hebrews 13:5) … he has plans for me, plans for my future (Jeremiah 29:11)… that there will be troubles but he has overcome them all (John 16:33)… and the list goes on.

He says he’ll never leave me nor forsake me (Hebrews 13:5) …
He has plans for me, plans for my future
(Jeremiah 29:11)…
there will be troubles but He has overcome them
(John 16:33)

I’m in a good place now, but it took years of hard work. I needed to trust and then accept the baskets of grace God offered me.

What does this mean for you

Please, if you ever get so depressed that you think there’s no hope, remember my story. Today there is no cake for me. Instead, I have the memory of the day when I received the call telling me how I lost my dad. I carried heartache, confusion, and misdirected guilt for years. Thank God for my Savior. He helped me remember the good memories and put the others away for safekeeping.

Darkness visits many of us, but it will pass. Trust in that. If you’re in a dark place right now, hang in there. Love your families, love your friends, and give your situation one more day before you do something that can’t be undone.

Remember my story.