Living the questions and trying to think theologically... and practically. Learning that these things are more synonymous than I once thought.

Location: Dallas, TX

Monday, September 27, 2004


Tuesday was the two year anniversary of my Father’s death. So much has happened this week, I feel as if I haven’t had much time to really think about it. Maybe I just haven’t wanted to.

It’s a funny thing losing a parent. There’s a quote from this book I read once called Life of Pi. It’s about this boy who loses his whole family in a tragic boating accident, and he gets stranded in a lifeboat with a most unlikely character. Anyway, he said, “When you lose your brother, you lose your best friend and playmate. When you lose your father, you lose your protector and source of wisdom, and when you lose your mother, you lose your sun.” I can relate to that middle part. It does seem a great source of wisdom and love escaped my life when my dad past.

I think I remember him just as clearly as ever. I can remember the way he smelled, the way he’d come home from work dusty with sheetrock, and the sound of his voice calling me baby. My dad was so tough and strong that guys were afraid of him, but really he was just a big teddy bear. He loved people, and he couldn’t tell them no. Sometimes I felt like we didn’t see him very much because he was so busy fixing every leaky sink of every widow woman in Alcorn County. He was good to the core, and you were hard pressed to find anyone who could say one ill word about him.

He had a deep voice that would bellow through our house when he’d answer the phone by saying what sounded like, “Yello.” God, I loved that. I never thought about how country he sounded. He was just Daddy- the best man you could ever hope to know.

My favorite singer/songwriter, Andrew Peterson, wrote a song about his dearly departed grandfather. I’ll never be a songwriter, but the people who’ve love me deeply and who I have loved encourage me to be poetic. My life has been forever impacted by two carpenters from the countryside who really had a lot in common when it comes to love and sacrifice. This poem is partly inspired from Andy’s song, “Tools” , from the life of my dad, and from that Jewish carpenter from Galilee.

I remember you just as strong as the big oak tree
That we passed walking to Maw’s house everyday
You’d put your big arms around me
You’d love and kiss and hug me
As I was running outside to laugh and play

Daddy, I know you loved me more than anything
And I hope I’ve made you proud
But Daddy Texas sure is big and I’m feeling all alone
I’d give anything just to talk to you now

You were never much for material things
There’s not a lot of “stuff” you left behind
But you’d spend your last dime to buy me pretty rings
And you gave me all the happiness and love that money never buys

So what do I have to remember you by but a shed of rusty tools
But like Andy says the faith and love and hope you gave
Are what I treasure most
They’re the best things about me and I know they came from you

Just like another carpenter I know
You showed the world what it meant to love unselfishly
Like the Savior you laid it all down for your friends
And that’s the best kind of person I could ever hope to be


Blogger pinay in netherlands said...

losing a parent is like losing your ship's anchor. it's difficult and it's easy to be set adrift...but as long as you know your stars and the course you have to take ..:)

11:55 AM  
Blogger Jonathan Blundell said...

C.S. Lewis wrote, you hate your friends after death. You hate the ones who bring it up and you hate the ones who don't.
I felt like that a lot after my sister died.

11:01 PM  

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