Like a brick to the head

It hits me out of nowhere. Like a truck. Nothing subtle about it.

It can be triggered by any number of things -- a song ("I Can Only Imagine"), a sound (a passing motorcycle), a look (Tanner's baby blue eyes), a question (Is Heaven way, way up high?), a photo.

You're thinking I'm talking about my crazy temper, right? My feelings of total instability at times?

No, that's not it at all. I'm talking about the overwhelming feeling of sadness ... how much I miss my dad. (Yes, mom, stop reading now.)

Most of you know that I lost my dad 3 years, 2 months, and 19 days ago. It was very sudden, in a DUI accident on 575. The man (well, he was more of a boy) who killed him tried to pass and cut him off too soon, sending his pickup off the road. My dad was killed instantly, and instantly, he was ripped from our lives.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was 5 days out of teaching my 4th year. Kendall and I were enjoying a day together on my summer vacation. Mom was out of town, Tim was at work, the day was normal. Until I got a call from my brother. Strange? Yes. He was in North Carolina, serving his first year of service in the Army. So I answered the phone, interested to see what stories Josh had to tell. All he said was, "Have you talked to Mom?" "No, why?" "Dad's dead."

Hunh? Yeah, just like that. It hit me. I couldn't do anything but scream and collapse. Kendall just started crying along with me, I think because I scared her. My body was taken over by something bigger than me. I couldn't control myself. I called Lynn, my MIL, to see if she could come over. I knew I couldn't take care of Kendall at that moment. She was already on her way. Then I talked to Tim and he was on his way. The cavalry was arriving, and I was a mess.

That was, by far, the worst day of my life. The worst moment. The worst feeling.

But these are not the things I find myself thinking about when I start to have the overwhelming feeling of missing him. There are a multitude of things about my dad that made him wonderful; I wish I had known that when he was alive. He knew how much I loved him; I just wish I had told him every day. Here's a list of the things I think about the most:

1) His beard. I find myself thinking all the time that I'll never feel that beard on my cheek again. It was scratchy, and grey, but it was him; it was "PawPaw." All the times he shaved it off, he just wasn't right.

2) Dancing with him at my wedding. I knew, before Tim and I planned the wedding, that Daddy and I were going to dance to "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle. It was never a question. And as the day approached, I was so excited to dance with him in front of all of my family and friends. We were never particularly affectionate (not that I can remember), but I always thought of myself as a Daddy's Girl. So when he took my hand on that dance floor, I knew this was the perfect song. He held me close, we swayed to the music, lost in our world. I wiped my eyes with tissue, and in the verse that says, "Walk me down the aisle, Daddy," he sobbed. I mean, broke down. I had to hold him up. I knew then what love truly was between a father and daughter. I can only hope that one day Kendall will understand the same love with Tim.

3) His camouflage cargo pants. The ones he cut grass in, rode his bike in, sat around the house in ... he loved those pants! And it drove Mom crazy when he wanted to wear them to family functions (this was after the overall stage), but everyone expected it, so they weren't surprised. They suited him perfectly. They were worn, dependable, cozy.

4) The way he loved. And I don't mean the way he loved me ... I mean the way he loved everything. He knew that he was "fearfully and wonderfully made." As a recovered addict, he knew every day was precious. And he loved that way. He loved my mom. He brought her flowers. He rubbed her feet every night. He loved my brothers and me. He supported us in everything we did, regardless of how good or bad it was for us. He loved his grandbabies. He was the best grandpa; I feel blessed that Kendall had the chance to meet him and know him, if only for 1 year. He loved his friends. He had these crazy friends that he rode bikes with. They had long hair and wore lots of leather. And, above all else, he loved God. And he never afraid to share his faith. Even when it wasn't cool to be Christian, he was.

5) He called me "punkin." He wrote me a letter every year on my birthday, addressed to "Punkin". At first they were in my birthday cards, just small notes telling me how proud he was of me and how much he loved me. Then when I went to college, he began writing longer letters. He would tell me about the things he had learned since becoming a grown up. He was still proud, but it made him sad to watch me grow up, he said. I actually stumbled upon a letter he wrote to me when I graduated from college in a book called God's Little Devotional Book for Teachers. (Perhaps, that is what has provoked this extremely long blog!)

6) He was proud. He was proud of being a husband, proud of being a father, proud of being a grandpa. He was proud of being an American, proud of being a veteran, proud of being a Christian. He was proud of being a friend, proud of being a pastor, proud of being a shepherd to the Lord!

So, I've reread this and I see that I still have not even come close to covering all the wonderful things about my dad. I wish that I could explain all the things about him that made him great. I wish that I could explain how much I miss him and how sad it makes me that Tanner will never know him. I wish I had spent more time with him when he was on this Earth. I wish I had told him how proud I was to have him as a dad.

You can put your Kleenex away now. I'm finished with this topic for now ... but I'm bound to revisit again one day. I'll give warnings ...

Tell your loved ones how much they mean to you today ... and every day ...