Dad…A Daughter’s Tribute

This Sunday will be the 2nd birthday my father has missed. Though he won’t be there for his party, I’m planning on having my brothers and my Mother over for dinner and dessert. I suppose that sounds odd, or sad, but to stop to remember such a sweet man, and great Father, seems fitting….and lovely.

I’ve posted pictures of Dad and I several times on Instagram and Facebook since he passed, and I wanted to write….to do or say MORE…but I couldn’t at the time.

The following story was written months ago, but I wasn’t ready to post it. Previous comments have always been kind, and I so appreciate your thoughtfulness.

I also hope you can catch a glimpse of the relationship we had/still have, from this short writing. Thank you in advance, for reading, and following along…

DAD

A little more than a year ago, I sat beside my Father’s bed in a hospital emergency room, waiting for him to be officially admitted as a patient.

He was hopeful, he was excited, anticipating that the sudden cause of an extreme weakness would be discovered, diagnosed, and his strength would be recovered and renewed.

“After all”, he told the Registration Nurse, “I’m ONLY 85!!”

I, also, was hopeful, and a bit desperate. Wanting answers for this man I loved so much, my first love, my Daddy. Wanting no one to take the sparkle out of his eyes, or the hope from his heart.

At the end of a long hallway, his room was quiet and grew dark. The minutes grew into hours, and still we waited. We didn’t care! We talked, we laughed, we cried a bit, and we remembered. At one point, in the early morning, I glanced over to see if he was sleeping, but instead, I found him grinning at me from ear to ear, as if waiting for me to say, “Dad, what is it?” He replied slowly, and deliberately,

You. Are. Loved.

I quickly swallowed a sob, so he couldn’t see it, then smiled back. I returned the same three words, and then it was his turn to smile at me…again. But I KNEW…he wants me to remember this. This is his gift to me.

He was admitted the following morning.

He did not get the news he wanted.

I held his hand as the “next steps,” were discussed.

Our hearts broke.

Like a brace, surrounding and supporting brokenness, are his words to me. I carry them with me through long days, and short nights. But still, I’m smiling. I live with the deep, and profound knowledge that my Father, wholly and truly loved me. The best gift ever…

Though he has passed, his words remain.

To my sweet, kind, and ever so loving Father:

You. Are. Loved.,

Beth Ann