As many of you may know by now, my Dad passed away on January 4th after a five month battle with cancer. In the days leading up to his death, and certainly in the days after, I’ve done a lot of reflecting on my Dad – who he is, what he stood for, and what he meant to me. When my Dad died, the world quietly lost a really good man.

Dad was big on family. He was always saying that what he wanted was for us all to be together, to get along, and he wasn’t just saying that. When Dad was a boy, he didn’t have a good family life. For example, when he was in the fifth grade, he was living in Shreveport, LA with has dad, who had divorced his Mom some time earlier. One morning, Dad awoke to find himself alone. His dad had left sometime in the night, so Dad wandered downstairs from the apartment they were living in to find help. The waitress in the diner downstairs had not seen my granddad, but, once they determined he wasn’t coming back, she helped Dad get a bus ticket back to Oklahoma City and his mom. Dad didn’t know the waitress’ name, but until the day he died, he was extremely grateful for her kindness.

My granddad’s departure from my Dad’s life was pretty typical for him, from what I’ve been able to gather. Because of his dad’s example, my Dad was determined that his children would have it better, and he worked hard every day to make sure that we did. We moved from a house we all loved to where he and my Mom live now (though it’s just my Mom now) to allow Mom to quit working so she could stay home with us. He did his best, especially as we got older, to avoid traveling for work as much as possible. I’m not sure if that cost him professionally, but it sure was nice having him home.

Dad was a big believer in being self-sufficient. I don’t recall ever getting a “speech” from him on the topic, but his life exuded it. He often talked about how he had to fix his own cars from the time he was (almost 😉 old enough to drive. He was constantly working on TVs, VCRs, microwave ovens, cars, air conditioners, etc. to fix them himself. While I don’t have the know-how to fix things like he did, I can see in myself that same determination to do what I can for me and my family.

He did, of course, recognize that sometimes you do need help, and wasn’t too proud to ask for it. Or give it. Every one of my siblings and I have needed and gotten help from Mom and Dad over the years, from automotive to housing help. One of my fondest memories of the generosity of my parents comes from a rough time in college. One semester I found myself quite short on funds to pay for my college expenses. Skipping meals wouldn’t even come close to covering my shortfall. One day, though, Mom and Dad showed up with a check for, if I recall correctly, $1,200, which I’m sure wasn’t easy for them, but they made the sacrifice so that I could stay in school. I’m not sure Dad understands how much of an impression that made on me.

During Dad’s funeral service, I was reminded of how important Dad’s faith was to him. This was highlighted very subtly by the fact that the speaker was not only the pastor of his church, but one of his best and closest friends. Since Tony and Regina came to that little country church, Mom and Dad spoke often of the times they’ve spent with them. During his eulogy, Tony shared how often Dad was helping him personally, and of how often Dad was at the church making sure things were working, that everything was being taken care of. When Dad was first admitted to the hospital in December, before things got really bad, he would repeatedly…complain about missing church, how he hadn’t missed a Sunday in so long. Up until the point he could no longer speak, he would speak openly of his faith. Despite his cancer and the complications it caused, he never wavered, nor did he question God, to my knowledge. He was a man of Faith, and lived by it until the day that faith was made sight.

During all of this reflection, it was interesting to see, consciously, the effects my Dad has had on me over the years. His attitudes, his beliefs, and, much to the chagrin of wife, even his sense of humor can be seen in me in one form or another. In that way, the old cliche that he lives on in us is, indeed, true.

Even more important, though, is that my Dad does live on, in every way more alive than he ever was. My Dad knew Jesus Christ, not just as some good man who lived long ago, but as his very real, very alive, and very personal savior. It’s that relationship with the Lord, I think, that really made him who he was, that gave him such and authenticity and fervor. I’m eternally grateful that that relationship drove him to raise us in a Christian home, to make sure we were in church, to make sure we had the opportunity to come to know the Lord ourselves. He loved us and the Lord enough to put up with countless youth over the years at summer camps, which are some of my favorite memories. Of all the things Dad leaves behind, that legacy of faith, I think, is the most significant.

After we said our good-byes, or, more accurately, “see you laters” to my Dad on that cold Thursday morning, I finally returned to my church a few days later, taking my place once again in the orchestra and praise band. While I still mourned and missed my Dad, I felt oddly rejuvenated in my faith and service, and somehow connected to my Dad, as I honored him in my continued service to my church and my Lord. As my Dad now perfectly worships the Lord in Heaven, seated at the feet of the One who died to make that possible, I can’t help but think that he’d approve, that he would be proud. I sure hope so, because I am who I am today largely because of my Dad. One of my life’s goals is that my legacy will honor his.