Tribute from a Daddy's Girl

I have always been a Daddy's girl. During one of our conversations last week, Dad reminded me of his ritual of lying down on the floor next to the heat register for a nap after work and how, as a toddler, I'd lie down right next to him and go to sleep.

1972

Though I can't remember this, I'm told that I loved him so much that he never needed to spank me when I was naughty. All he had to do was frown at me and I would burst into tears. 

There was so much to love about Dad. 

Sense of Humor

The first thing that comes to mind is his silly sense of humor. He'd let my sisters and me style his combover in crazy ways, and he'd entertain us by contorting his face into bizarre grimaces. I suspect that he enjoyed embarrassing us, doing things like putting in a brief appearance in his tighty-whities whenever we had friends overnight. 

Amy Was the Stylist This Time

He Never Got Tired of Silly Faces

He kept that sense of humor all the way to his last day, when he astonished me by announcing in all seriousness, “I'm bored.” We proceeded to reminisce about many things that made us both chuckle. 

“Remember how every time we traveled, we had to leave at about 5 o'clock, before it was even light? And you never wanted to stop for the bathroom. You always said we had to 'make time.'

“Remember the time you spilled hot coffee on Mom when you were driving in the middle of the night, and she got so mad? You know so many different ways to make Mom mad. It's almost a gift.” 

Dad laughed out loud when I said that.

“Mom gets mad,” I continued, “but she loves you. She definitely loves you.” 

Work Ethic

Another thing I love about Dad is that he was a hard worker. He believed in being dependable and doing a job right. A gifted carpenter, he took great pride in his craft, building everything from doll furniture to spiral staircases. Both he and Mom instilled an excellent work ethic in all of their children.

For Dad, getting there early was on time, and on time was late. When I got my first job at the mall, Dad helped me get there early by driving me across town. Though his old work truck smelled like stale, musty farts, I have to say I enjoyed all of that time with him.  

Love of Family

Dad was devoted to his family. As our family grew, his loyal, unconditional love extended to our mates. Dad always wanted more sons, but Mom kept bearing daughters—six of them in all! Each son-in-law became another son to him, and not even divorce could sever those bonds. 

Spending time with all his children and grandchildren was his greatest joy, and he would do anything to help us. For example, when the country convenience store that my first husband Byron and I bought was struggling, he and Mom drove three hours each week to help us run it. 

One of Dad's jobs there was manning the grill. In a blog entry I wrote about the store, my late niece Mindy commented, “Oh man do I remember those burgers, they were to die for!”

Whenever I had to work the late shift, Dad did all of the closing duties, sweeping and mopping and stocking the cooler so I could get in bed an hour or two earlier. He also watched over me as I locked up and walked out to my car.

Mom and Dad lived with us during the weekdays, crammed into a single-wide mobile home dating back to the sixties. We literally stumbled over each other, but somehow those were happy times.

One time Byron bought a dozen baby chicks at the 4H fair, and Dad happily took on the responsibility of caring for them, often with our son Ethan toddling along behind him and giggling. The three chicks that survived followed Dad all around, and he was one proud chicken mama. The last two hens lived a long time, and he loved serving their rich, golden-yolked eggs. 

Quiet Strength

Dad was always quiet. It wasn't easy to talk to him because he was so hard of hearing, but words weren't really necessary. I've always been a talker like my mama, but with him, I learned the virtue of silence. 

In his later years, he was hospitalized many times, and I found joy in holding his warm, arthritic hand.

During a hospitalization in 2008, I said, “Dad, we should hold hands more often. This is nice!”

“I always like holding hands with a pretty girl,” he replied.

Deep Faith

I didn't discover the depth of Dad's faith until I lived with him and Mom briefly during a severe flare-up of my autoimmune disease. Due to surges of thyroid hormone, I had near total insomnia, and the endless night hours were a torment for me.

Every morning between 4 and 5 o'clock, I'd hear Dad moving in the kitchen, and I'd stumble out to join him. He'd brew some coffee, fry an egg, and sit down at the kitchen table, where he'd read five chapters in the Bible. Next, he'd pray silently for many minutes. 

His morning stillness quieted me. I could just sit and breathe while he prayed. 

When I asked what he prayed about, he told me he prayed for various needs in the family. The one constant in his daily prayers was asking God to help certain loved ones find the love of Jesus. Dad's deepest longing was for all the people he loved to find faith. He never grew weary of bringing this request to God, and I believe that God is answering that prayer in His own time.

In one of our last conversations at the hospital, I thanked Dad for taking me in when I most needed his and Mom's support. “I know it wasn't easy,” I said.

He squeezed my hand. “But we got by, didn't we?” 

Those words beautifully characterize our family's story. We never had a lot of money, but we got by. Dad did his best to provide for us and trusted God for the rest. We learned to value the things that matter most rather than worrying about what we didn't have. I never felt deprived. 

One Last Journey

We were all shocked at how quickly Dad passed once he'd made up his mind that he was ready to go. The reason came to me yesterday morning when I inexplicably awakened around 5:30: Dad was anxious to start his journey. He wanted to “make time” just like he always did when he traveled. 

I'll close with the last words I spoke to my father, just after his heart stopped beating. “I'll see you soon, Daddy. I'll see you soon.” 

Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his saints. 
Psalm 116:15