Today my dad has been enjoying heaven for three years. Time does fly and then again, I can close my eyes and remember that day and those preceding it so vividly. As I read this again today, I asked myself are these words still me. Did I still feel as if they honored my dad and our relationship. I think they do. The original title was “It’s Complicated” and written on June 17, 2012, just a few months after dad passed away. It was an honest title – it still is.
Box and boxes of pictures later, I found a few to share with you today. He loved to dance. I’m so glad someone (even if they did cut off his head a few times) captured us slow dancing at Christmas. In the last years before his death, a picture of me carrying a filled Styrofoam cup with coffee would have been a true visual of our life. I never entered his room anywhere that he didn’t ask me to bring him a fresh cup of coffee. Oh, and a Three Musketeer bar.
In loving memory of my dad, Lonnie Vincent Trichell – December 23, 1938 – April 1, 2012
Last year on this day, I wrote my first blog. It was father’s day, my dear husband was under the weather, I had some time on my hands so I decided to give it a whirl. I’ve enjoyed the opportunity and still feel humbled at the kindness of my dear friends and a few strangers that stop by. Thanks for listening.
Father’s Day. Just a couple of months ago, my dad packed up his bags and went to live with Jesus. He is having an amazing Father’s Day this year! I, on the other hand, am flooded with memories, questions and those kind of feelings that say, “I wish this could have been different”. Does that make sense? Have you ever felt that way?
If you have ever seen a Facebook relationship status that read, “it’s complicated” that would describe my relationship with my dad. We lived together for the first 8 years of my life and then it seemed he traveled in and out. It was never traditional. Matter of fact, there have been years when we never saw each other and we lived only five miles apart. It wasn’t because I didn’t try. It just never seemed to work out for long. He lived life in his own way and he lived it to the fullest. It wasn’t until later years that I really got to know him. He was scheduled for triple bypass surgery (an emergency), the hospital called me as his next of kin and that is when I really got to know my dad.
Over the past 10 years or so we became daddy and daughter. We had some great fun times and we have had some low, sad times. He shared his memories of his earlier years, fun times he had with my uncle, places he traveled, memories of his time in the military, thoughts and remembrance he had of my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. Most of his side of our family I never really got to know. He just didn’t have time for all of that when his kids were younger. We went for ice cream, to the grocery store, Walmart and ate at Piccadilly.
The other side of our relationship was difficult. My dad had an addiction that ruled his life at times. He was in and out of the hospital so many times. Too many to count. I begged, pleaded, fused and nagged. Finally I accepted him for who he was. I did not accept the addiction, I accepted him. Some one asked once did I think that my dad couldn’t change or wouldn’t change. I don’t know. I do know that he hated his life the way it was. One of the many times we sat in an emergency room somewhere, a hospital chaplain had stopped by before I arrived. As dad and I sat there waiting, dad said “Do you know that song about grace? The one that talks about how I was once lost but now I’m found?” I said, “Amazing Grace”? He said , “Yes. I really like that song.” I knew that he was telling me that he had made his life right with God. Dad’s life was up and down. He never really understood how to live. In the last few weeks of his life he assured me, his sister and my pastor that he was ready to meet God. That’s good enough for me.
His last years were spent in pain. Macular degeneration took most of his eyesight and the death of almost every joint had left him disabled and unable to do what he wanted to do. He was a fighter though. I NEVER saw any one fight so hard to live. Dad pushed himself to walk with broken bones. He refused to lay in bed even when I thought he needed to rest. Dad went to physical therapy when he could hardly hold his head up. For every drink he took that was destroying his body, dad would then fight to live. Amazing. I told him once, “Dad I hope I inherited your will to live, your survival instinct.” He said, “you did. I can’t give up. I’m still alive“. I’m not sure what he was taught when he was in the Marine Corp but whatever it was, he was a survivor. He often said, “once a Marine, always a Marine”. When dad left this world, his doctor said, “One thing I can say about your dad, he was a fighter.”
At dad’s graveside service, our sweet Pastor based his message on the verses of “Amazing ‘Grace”. It was so uplifting, so fitting. My cousin sang it a capella. Beautiful, like an angel. Today, as I dressed for church, David Jeremiah spoke on the song “Amazing Grace”. He told of the writer’s life and how he came to pen those now famous verses. Father’s day – “Amazing Grace”. I felt in my spirit that God was telling me, “your dad is here and he is doing great”.
Dad is finally free! Grace, well, it’s amazing!
Linking with Holley Gerth today – Coffee for Your Heart