He's Arrived!

On October 5, 2006, one of my best friends and dad “arrived”. In my struggle these past few weeks to make sense and deal with the death of my father, I have found a book that is helping me with the process. One short story in the first few chapters talked about a village in Africa and how they perceive death. In that small community, when talking about someone’s death, they do not refer to them as deceased or departed. In a more joyful discussion, they refer to them as arrived.

My dad too has arrived! Although I still say this with many tears and much pain. There is a tiny giggle inside me I soon hope consumes my whole being. The image I see is of him arriving just a he did in many places here on earth. Fast on that yellow Harley, unannounced with a plan. For some reason, that was his “M.O”; he always arrived in something bright and shinny. Whether it be his new motorcycle, corvette or a sparkling clean truck (He did not believe in any type of vehicle being dirty at any moment.) it was a fast arrival. In some aspects, he never grew up. His sense of adventure and fast driving always drove us crazy; but we got joy from the look on his face at how much fun he was having.

As for being unannounced, I can’t quiet decide what that was about; he definitely like to be in control (and I think he liked people to do things on his timing). Maybe it was part of his adventurous spirit. When he got an idea, he was ready to do it no matter what time of day or night. My girl’s favorite story is of a time we were in Abilene visiting. We were staying at my mom’s house. The girls had already taken a bath and had their pajamas on. It was late and we were watching a movie. My cell phone rang and it was dad. He wanted to go get a root beer float and was coming to get the girls. Now, it was about 11:30pm and the mother in me said no; but as usually happened, I said yes to my daddy, and we were off to meet pawpaw. As a child I loved dad’s last minute, unreasonable, adventurous ideas. Those were what made the forever fun memories. I am so glad I said yes that night. We enjoyed big, fun, messy, root beer floats at Long John Silver’s on Buffalo Gap Road with wet-headed kids in their pajamas.

And as I said, in all his arrivals, he had a plan, to surprise someone. For some reason, he liked to just show up and surprise you. As much of a planner as I am, it would drive me crazy to think about it; but I know he (and I) got a kick out of the smile on my face when my dad just showed up on my doorstep. Thinking back, it was his philosophy in life, stop planning it and just enjoy it. For those of you who know me really well, knows he is the ONLY person I would do that for. I have to know what the plan is. Funny enough, this almost backfired for him this past September. My mother was in Lubbock w/ the girls and I to do some back to school shopping. Well, as is his normal routing, he called from his cell phone to tell Gary he was on the highway heading to Lubbock for the weekend. Needless to say, he had to turn around and go back to Abilene when he found out his ex-wife was here for the weekend. (I guess he got the surprise that day.) But he made the most of the ride, he called some motorcycle friends and they met for dinner and enjoyed a ride together.

So, as I think about his arrival with Christ, he went out on his shinny motorcycle, riding fast with no announcement of his trip; but a plan to reach the hope of painless, eternal peace with Christ.

He was in such pain here in the last two years. The pain of his last wreck was so obvious. His vivacious spirit was tame as it was so evident on his face through every physical activity. Ever job, every reach to hold the grandkids, every motorcycle ride. He battled that pain with every ounce of energy he had, putting into practice each moment his steps of sobriety. Eventually that too was not enough to battle the physical and emotional pain. I know in my heart from words he spoke not too long ago, he was ready to go to his Father. He needed the refuge of God he had learned to trust in. In God’s great mercy the moment he arrived, that promise was his.

No, this doesn’t make this moment any easier. The human in me misses my daddy more than I could ever begin to express in words. There is no call on the way to work every morning for him to tell me he was “smokin’ and drinkin’”. (That was him making a confirmation to me every morning he was still choosing that day to be sober as he got up to smoke his cigarette and drink his coffee.” There are no more of “those laughs” that Gary says only my daddy could encourage. No more unreasonable, unplanned surprises. But, there is a heart full of honestly crazy memories no one could imagine or believe if I ever told. Three daughters and four granddaughters that thought he could do no wrong; and, a legacy to work hard; but play harder.

As I make my way back to the promises of God’s eternity for us. I hope they overwhelm my “moments” of my humanity as I look for joy in my pain. But along my journey, I am finding it amazing to hear the stories of a man I didn’t know. Yes, he is still my daddy; but everyday in others encouragement to me, I get to hear of things he said or did throughout his life that did not necessarily fit into my image of him. My image was of a strong, rebellious, pride-full, hardworking, privately spiritual man. But I am learning about the generous, humble, boldly spiritual side of him. Maybe he thought those things to us would have seemed weak. Actually, I see him stronger than ever before. And I am so proud that he was my daddy!

(P.S. Randy, thanks for your encouragement to write. It hurt; but helped.)