20 years of missing my Daddy

Dear Daddy,

As Father’s Day approaches, it dawned on me that you died in 2004, so it’s been 20 Father’s Days since I got to celebrate you. It’s hard to wrap my head around that number. I could never imagine living on this earth without you, and now it’s been two decades.

So, on this Father’s Day I want to thank you for everything you did for me, it still matters.

Thank you for every summer that you loaded us up in the car and drove us to Canada for summer vacations. That cabin in the woods and that pristine blue lake, and allowing me to bring a friend to play with, and taking us to touristy things that probably held no interest for you, like the castle the guy built on the heart shaped island for the wife who never lived to see it. That sad romantic tale always made me cry and it made you laugh that I cried every year like I’d never heard it before.

Thank you for teaching me how to fish and letting me invade your one space of solitude out in the boat sometimes and letting me jabber on when you preferred quiet.

Thank you for listening to WSLR and teaching me all the classic country songs, Every time I hear Johnny Cash or Loretta Lynn, I feel like I am in the car riding with you on our Saturday morning outings to Pop’s Truck Stop for blueberry pancakes.

Thank you for every boy I dated that you hated and for scaring off all the wrong ones. Thank you absolutely terrifying the kid who punched me on the school bus so much that he never came near me again. 

Thank you for slipping me a $20 every time I left the house, so I was never stuck and always had a way to get home. 

Thank you for the little orange kitten (Ariel) you brought home after my accident. You told mom you found it by the railroad tracks because she hated cats, but later we learned that was a lie! You knew I needed a furry friend to survive the tragedy I had lived through. That precious orange kitten laid beside me while I wept alone in my room for months. He was by my side for 15 years. 

Thank you for taking me to the train yard with you to pick up your paycheck – I still think trains are the most romantic and wonderful thing. Watching you leave for work in the morning with your pinstriped overalls and engineers’ hat and I always thought you were os handsome, like if they made a movie about railroad engineers the movie star would look like you.

Thank you for busting me out of school every year to go to the Cleveland Indians home opener and all the games we saw every summer. Now they are the Cleveland Guardians, I am still a fan and following them still brings me as much joy as it did when we were sitting in that giant old Municipal stadium together.

Thank you for your giant laugh, your sense of humor and for laughing so hard you couldn’t catch your breath sometimes. You taught me to value humor and when I see movies you loved and laughed at, it fills my heart with joy. Blazing Saddles nearly did you in, I have never seen anyone laugh so hard. I love how much you enjoyed comedy.

Thank you for the day you asked Jesus into your heart and stopped drinking. You were always such a sweet and loving Daddy to me, but even more so after you found your faith in God. Watching you go to school and become a pastor and become a chaplain for kids with substance abuse issues made me so proud of you. You lived a very hard life and you actively sought out kids who had also lived hard lives and worked to help them find their way out. Some of them are still in touch with me because you changed their lives forever.

Thank you for not believing in tough love. Thank you for making sure I knew I could always come home. “Tough love is no love at all,” you said. Thank you that even in the 80’s when I was my most wild and messed up, not once was I unwelcome when I showed up at your door. And we had some really big fights, and I made some really huge mistakes, but still, you never abandoned me.

Thank you for teaching me to love everyone. Thank you for not being a bigot. Thank you for modeling unconditional love to me, for having a home where everyone was welcome, black, white, gay, straight, any religion, any background, hookers, bikers, drug addicts, or any messed up people who asked for help, you opened the door, and you and mom led with warm hugs.

The people who knew you as a drunk could never believe you had become a pastor. The people who knew you as a pastor could never believe you had ever been a drunk. The change was night and day, and I am so thankful I got to witness it. Anytime I start doubting God, I remember what He did for you and how completely your life changed. That’s the only proof of God I will ever need.

It’s been twenty years since I’ve had your giant hand holding mine. I miss you still all the time. So many of life’s trials I wish I could ask you how to fix. After you died, I realized I had never made an adult decision without your input. I didn’t think I’d ever figure out how. 

You never had a father in your life to guide you, so it’s doubly miraculous that you figured out how to get it so right all on your own. And you got it very right. I’m the luckiest girl to have had you as my Daddy.