Not a Trubute, but a Tribute

For the last several days my heart has wanted to compose a tribute to my dad.  My mind, however, stands in a state of paralysis, with no logical place to start.  Where does one begin to write about a parent?  One of the greatest influencers on an individual's life?

So I have put it off and chosen to simply wait.  As I have waited, as we have worked on details of this upcoming week, as we have heard from people who knew Dad and were touched by him, the words are starting to come but are still not ready.

While I have heard (and believed) that illness is a mercy (giving us the gift of time to say goodbye, to prepare ourselves for this loss), illness has also colored and clouded our memories.  Dad changed.  He lost his vitality, his laughter, his mannerisms, his way with words.  And so I started to forget.  Initially, his passing was a mercy, a relief that he was no longer suffering.  I felt a bit narcotized against the grief of our loss.

But through the gift of community and family, our memories of Dad are returning to those former times. As word of his passing has spread, we are receiving texts, e-mails, and instant messages from around the world and reminders of lives he touched.  Browsing old photographs and reading those messages are rebuilding the image of him in our minds of who he used to be, and the numbness is starting to fade.

In spite of that initial 'relief' that Dad's suffering was over and the sense that he had really left us much earlier, I could not escape the striking awareness of his physical absence once his body was taken away on Sunday. Though the person of Dad who has been occupying this home was just a shadow of the man we all remembered, when that shadow left two days ago, its absence was still inescapable.

Ellie commented yesterday, "I miss hearing the sounds of Gjysh's shuffling feet," as she proceeded to rub her hands on the tablecloth, imitating the rough, rhythmic scratchings of his familiar tread.  We all laughed and I was grateful for her shared memory.

Meanwhile, staying here at Mom and Dad's house, I am reminded of him at every turn, surrounded by his special spaces and belongings. 

While an empty bed, a pair of sunglasses on the dashboard, a basket of ball caps are all reminders of Dad, he was so much more than a collection his 'things.'

He was a grandpa (called Gjysh) who read stories and strove to create memories for his grandchildren.
He was a loyal son and grandson who valued family history and honored his elders.
He was an avid student and reader, collecting books and absorbing truth until near the very end.
He was a Dad who signed off all his letters and e-mails to his daughters with RYB, BYT, & SYP (read your Bible, brush your teeth, and say your prayers).  His scripts also included, "Be a peacemaker" and "God always keeps His promises."
He was a friend who teased and joked and remembered your interests.
He was a farmer who shared his equipment with a neighbor and strove to have the cleanest, straightest rows of crops.
He was a husband who loved his wife shamelessly, faithfully, and bought her special gifts.
He was a missionary who fell in love with a people and a culture quite different yet complementary to his own, coming as the 'expert farmer', leaving as a student and a friend.
Most importantly, he was a child of God who lived every day thinking in terms of its impact on eternity.

That is what I want to remember, record, and express.

So I will continue to wait for the words to come to honor the man who I was blessed to call Dad, who gave me my nose, my sentimental heart and a love for ketchup --from whom I see mirrored my inescapable need to work hard, not waste time, and win the approval of others, but who also shaped my view of life and love and my heavenly Father in all the best ways.  He was a man who supported and affirmed me in ways I can't begin to describe, gently pointing out my faults and encouraging me in the ways I should go.

I've been so blessed to call him Dad.

Psalm 16:5-11
GOD’S WORD Translation (GW)

⁵ The Lord is my inheritance and my cup.
    You are the one who determines my destiny.
⁶     Your boundary lines mark out pleasant places
  for me.

  Indeed, my inheritance is something beautiful.

⁷ I will praise the Lord, who advises me.
    My conscience warns me at night.
⁸ I always keep the Lord in front of me.
    When he is by my side, I cannot be moved.
⁹  That is why my heart is glad and my soul
   rejoices.
            My body rests securely
¹⁰  because you do not abandon my soul to the grave or allow your holy one to decay.
¹¹ You make the path of life known to me.
    Complete joy is in your presence.
        Pleasures are by your side forever.