Pops~ as Christmas quickly! approaches again, I wanted to take the time to sit and write to you again. As I write this, I can see a stack of your books that you had from your teaching days, that were in the study on your bookshelves surrounded by your massive desk and that blue leather office chair that I can still smell. It’s relatively easy this time of year because there are so many memories and things to talk about. I know I’ve written about the church a lot the last couple of years because to me, being a Disciple and getting to share that with my immediate family and you and Mamaw has always been important to me so it tends to bleed through when I write to you.
This past Sunday was the Christmas Cantata- one of my favorite days of the year. I don’t know if it’s a Disciples tradition or if other denominations do it as well, but to me, the Cantata means Christmas is here and what a miracle that is! I remember inviting you and Mamaw and the rest of the family to come to this service, anxiously awaiting your email back- I loved the way you always signed your emails ‘Pops’. Makes me smile thinking about the constant, consistent support you provided to each of us over the years. You certainly had an innate ability to make everyone feel special in their own way.
I’ve taken a little bit of a break from being so involved in the church; after having served as deacon and an Elder, I was ready to take a step away from leadership and just be able to go and worship. I find that I miss it, being involved. I’m not sure if I get that from mom or you, or both. I told mom, after the cantata, that it’s hard to stay away for too long; too many good people and it’s just home. I’m sure it always will be. I was an Elder during the last couple years of your life. I think, in a sobering way, that it really helped me to appreciate, earlier than I anticipated that I would need it, the power of prayer and the importance of having a strong faith and church family to rely upon. [Being an Elder is a big job, even for a relatively small church- essentially, you are responsible for the spiritual well being and leadership of the church. Lots of home visits with flowers and communion, lots of prayers at hospital beds and at the communion table, and at church functions. But the biggest parts of being an Elder are the parts that no one sees on Sunday mornings. The mornings spent praying, the afternoon and evenings spent hammering out church business and going to visit church members at home or the hospital.] And while I think I didn’t do a very good job of coming to see you the last 6 months of your life; I think, as an Elder I learned the importance of being there for someone going through something that may be alone or sick or out of touch with whoever may be taking care of them. I still struggle with the knowledge, internally, because I know there are many things in my heart I want to ask you, to talk to you about, ask your advice about, hug you, see your face; and I won’t have that opportunity again for a very long time. I don’t feel guilty anymore; I honestly think that writing has helped with those feelings of loss and incompleteness.
I know I’ve said this before, but I really wish I was reading/ telling you these things to your face. I miss the way you used to pinch my cheeks when I walked in your front door, I miss walking with you to the kitchen pantry to pick out a bowl of mixed nuts to snack on before dinner was ready, I miss eating grapefruit with you in the mornings, I miss you driving me to church camp, I miss watching the Wheel, playing cards and dominoes in the living room with you and Mamaw, I miss watching you command a room, I miss hearing you pray over a meal with the family all holding hands gathered around the kitchen island, I miss bringing my friends over after soccer practice so we could grab a caffeine free Diet Coke and a snack before heading home. So many things that could make that list, but mostly I just miss you.
There are memories and tears that can be felt when turning a page of a book. I’m hoping one day, I’ll have the courage to turn all these ‘letters’ into something people can physically hold in their hands. You were nothing if not authentic, so I’m doing my best to make sure my writing reflects love, truth, and wisdom. When I first started doing this, it was because I felt the need to let people know what a great man you were, if they knew you or not. Now, I realize it was, and always has been a fiery catharsis, a way for the pain to fall away, and the memories remain.
We love you and miss you, always~
Merry Christmas, Pops
Hugs