Dear reader: this is raw and painful and tear-stained and in its original form from pen and paper
Dear Pops,
My confession is this: There are so many things I think about each day that I should have just picked up the phone and called you and thanked you for; or if I had just plucked up the courage to drive to Brookdale to see you…maybe I wouldn’t be crying as I write this. Usually if I was trying to come see you alone, I barely made it out of the neighborhood before the full weight of what I was about to do came crashing down on me and I just turned around and went home. I was only strong enough to make it when I knew someone else from the family would be there.
Your family was there for you right up until the very end [Matthew made it home from the islands in time to say his goodbyes to you.] I’m sure you were hanging on until you had said your final words to everyone- that’s the just the kind of man you were, steadfast until the very end.
God’s timing is simply remarkable.
I miss you- there are no words to describe the grief of my heart sometimes- I wish I could bottle it and store it on a shelf somewhere. Pain, grief, loss- they are truly humbling words- big words; words that take up a lot of heart, mind, and soul space. Words are normally a safe space for me: books of fantastical tales, romantic stories, autobiographies, the backs of cereal boxes for crying out loud! But tonight, the only solace I crave is the pen in my hand and my nose in your Bible (they let me keep it, can you believe that?). I’ve poured my soul into it hoping to find the answers why why why. We’re nearing month seven of you being gone and it feels like it was just yesterday that Mom was calling me on her day, Mother’s Day, to tell me the news…
You’ll be pleased to know that Mamaw still dutifully reads the paper every day and watches ‘The Wheel’. She’s very quiet now, almost as if an actual piece of her is missing. I’ve gone to church with her a few times since you’ve been gone, though you know that. Every time I’ve been, someone comes up to me and tells me how glad they are that I am there and how wonderful of a man you were and how much everyone misses you- etxarte- my home away from home, my safe place. The Tree of Life ceremony that Southern Hills had was just a small token of your congregation’s love for you, the Pumpkin Patch, your Elder-ship, leading Sunday school classes; all these things we associate with you. You were and still are so loved- your servant-leadership continues to set the example for how I want to live my life and be remembered.
I see your influence every. single. day. Like today, I went to Wednesday night youth group and we talked about prayer and read from Daniel 6- we talked about Daniel’s commitment to praying 3x a day to God and when he needed him the most, God provided for him and saved him from the lion’s den. We talked about the value of prayer, why we need it, why Jesus died on the cross for our ability and privilege to pray to God. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve taken up the post of praying over the meals and over the family when we gather together; it’s my way of honoring you.
You taught me to trust in the church, the process of growing up, the importance of my own interpretation, you took me to church camps, heard me preach in front of my home congregation my senior year of high school, and I will never forget the day that I was baptized.
Constantly and consistently, He reminds us that we are His children and that if we go to Him in prayer and supplication; if we lay our sorrows, fears, doubts, hopes, and dreams at His feet- He is our friend and our faithful leader- He will take it all for us, we need only trust in Him.
These things, I wrote down in an hour wishing I could SAY them to you instead. Maybe one day I’ll read them to you.
I love you,
e