Something in me couldn't hold this one back. Too much has gone on. So, here it is...
Dear Dad;
I write you now for so many reasons. Some I understand and some I don’t, regardless I write everything because I love you. Not only do I love you as much as any son could love his dad, I admire you so much. In many ways it may be because I am learning, albeit slowly, what it means to be a dad myself. The closer my own son comes to arriving the more and more I feel of what I can only imagine you have felt for years.
Years you spent as my Dad. Oh, how I loved those years. I know I didn’t always show it well, as a matter of fact, often I showed it poorly, but I really did love having you as my Dad. All those times you played basketball with me in the yard. Not on a basketball court, mind you, but that rocky desert terrain of dirt we called a court. The place I received my first and only bloody nose – from my Dad. The place I learned to dribble a basketball and shoot free throws. The place I learned that a basketball is not that hard to dribble when you have a flat surface. I cherish al those hours, the nights you would come home from work and I would time my basketball time just as you got home. “How about a game, Dad?” You would be so tired sometimes, but you’d still play. I can’t thank you enough; it meant the world to me.
All those times you helped me out, and let me pay you back by doing projects with you around the house and yard. I thought you were exploiting me sometimes; I came to learn you were spending time with me. Teaching me. Loving me. I learned to shingle a roof, re-roof a garage, change a transmission, change a clutch, change the oil, change a tire, frame a spare room, drywall, drive a tractor, among many, many other things. I learned the value of sacrificing and serving those you love. I learned so much.
Oh, and the cars. How I love the car stories. The Chevy? The Sprint? The Nova? The Pathfinder? The Metro? The other Nova? Sorry, Dad. I learned a lot though. Yes, I learned them the hard way, but I sure was glad you were always there for me. I can only pray to have a tenth of the patience and grace you gave me with my own son. I do have to say though; I like sharing the projects with you way more then the repairs. I look forward to finishing that Nova; I wish I were closer, so we had more time to do it together. I am glad we share that though.
I remember the sleep-overs when I was younger and how you would wrestle with me and my friends. How you would set up the tents outside. I remember how much fun I had wrestling with you in the living room. Sometimes I got out of control, what a little temper I had, but you had more patience than a monk. Good thing for me.
I used to have so much fun going to the mountains with you to get fire-wood. Learning to run the chainsaw, or how to chop up the wood. Betting double-or-nothing on whether or not you could chop the log in one swing. You could, about 95% of the time. Good thing you never held me to the rules, I’d still be paying you off. I had so much fun and learned so much. How I admired my Dad.
As of recent memories I can think of all the four-wheeler trips and geocaching. The crazy stuff we would find. I love your stories. Stories of growing up. Stories of when times were simpler, easier… harder and more complex. Stories of Alaska, stories of family. Stories of Moab and stories of mining. You have great stories, I hope I tell stories as well as you do. I won’t have as good of stories so I hope you don’t mind if I borrow a few of yours to tell my son. I will tell him about you all the time because I can only wish to have just a little bit of you in me. I hope with every breath I can be more like my Dad
I’ll never forget some advice you once gave me, simple advice, but good advice: “Don’t do anything stupid.” You told me as I got into my car off to party with some friends. I don’t know if you realized the impact of those words, but every time I forget to think and jump into some idiotic decision those words scroll through my brain. You have kept me from a lot of mistakes. You never stopped me from being able to choose, you never locked me down from making mistakes, but you taught me to learn from them. You let me grow; you let me become a man on the terms that they needed to happen. You gave me the advice I needed when I needed it – without controlling me.
I want you to know how much I love you, how much I look up to you and how grateful and blessed I am, that you are my Dad. It is because of you that I am able to be who I am today. The things you taught me, the strength you gave me, the love you showed me, the life you lived – all of it – is part of who I am, and I cannot thank you enough for everything. Words cannot express how much I love you and what an amazing Dad you have been to me. I love you Dad.
But I want you to know one more thing. Even more important than knowing how much I love you and look up to you, I want you to know how much God loves you, even more so than I love you or, as hard as it is to believe, you have loved me. I believe this with everything in me. My life exists to share this with everyone else, how much more importantly my own Dad. One thing you taught me above all these stories and lessons, is that who you are, who God created you to be (especially in my own life) has shown me more than any other single person or thing what God’s love is like and how much he loves me, and you. Why he would give his son to die for us, simply so that he could be with us.
I know this is where my letter bridges into the far-fetched, possibly the unbelievable, but I want you to know this more than anything else, Dad. This life, the one we live today, is the beginning, not the end. There is more – I sincerely believe that with everything in me. Its not far-fetched, its not unbelievable, I spend my days, my career, teaching these truths to junior high and high school students for a reason: because it is real and it does matter… more than anything in this world. I have seen God change my life, change these kids’ lives; I want you to know that in your life.
I want you to know my God, Dad. To know how much he loves you, to know that his son died on a cross for you. I want you to know that with everything in me I believe this. I can only pray that I live it out too, more than just telling you. That I live it out for my son, the way you, likely unknowingly, lived it out in so many ways for me for me. A Father’s love was such a wonderful example of how God loves us.
Dad, you showed me through your own life a glimpse of God’s love; through you, God revealed himself to me, in my life. You have been an inspiring example of love, patience, tenderness, grace, mercy, strength, sacrifice and friendship. I don’t know what you think, nor what you believe, so that’s why I say these things, because they mean so much to me – more importantly, because you mean so much to me.
Thank you Dad, for being such and amazing father and friend. For teaching me so much, for being such a great example, for loving me when I know I was so difficult to love sometimes… for believing in me. For playing with me, wrestling with me, and laughing with me, for being patient with me and for forgiving me even when I least deserved it. Thank you for loving my Mom, she means the world to me too, and I know you mean more than the world to her.
I hope, I pray that I have just an ounce of you in me. If I can just share that much of you with my son, he’ll turn out ok. I pray I can be as close to as good of a father to Noah as you are to me; to be so understanding, to be so patient, to be so loving, so sacrificing, so… good.
I admire you more than anyone Dad, I look up to you as a standard of something to I strive to be, but most of all – I love you Dad – don’t ever forget that.
Thank you,
Your Son
