When you were with me, did you have any idea that you were the perfect father? Did you know that, for me, you embodied the very essence of righteousness? That you were ever and always long-suffering? That you chose to teach me your truths through gentle persuasion without hypocrisy or guile? There's not a man living or dead that I can think of who comes closer than you to being the perfect example of a righteous patriarch.
On one of our rare family camp outs, you woke me just before sunrise. Without speaking to me, you motioned for me to follow you in the pre-dawn light. We walked deep into the forest. Whenever I would ask you where we were going, you shook your head and held your finger to your lips instructing me to be quiet.
Eventually, we came to a spot where there was a fallen tree and we sat there quietly, just the two of us. I had no idea what we were doing there but I had learned to trust you. You were always working hard for our family and so, when you took the time to be just with me, it was inevitably to teach me something you deemed important. And so we just sat there quietly, we two.
Eventually you nudged me and pointed. I looked and saw a fox in the forest rooting around, following a scent trail. I looked at your face and your grey eyes sparkled with joy and you winked at me, I began to understand. As we sat there, still and quiet, the forest opened itself up to us. I saw animals and birds and insects begin to move about...things I would never have noticed if I had been too noisy and had scared them away or had been too busy with other thoughts and actions to even take notice of them.
It took a few years for me to realize that you weren't really teaching me about animals in the forest. You were teaching me the most important aspect of worship. You were teaching me that the most important part of prayer isn't speaking but listening....that sometimes, it takes a long time to sit there in the still and quiet before an answer comes...but it always comes. I still recall the many times I would pass your room and see you on your knees, sometimes for hours. But you always arose with a smile on your face and tears in your eyes. I knew that God spoke to you and, more importantly, I knew that you listened to Him.
And, whenever I felt God speak to me, you were always the first person I sought out to share it with. You would smile at me with joy and pride. On my mission in Rome, I would take my half day off each week and seek out the art that you showed me in books and pictures when I was growing up. You taught me how a man's work is a reflection of his devotion to God but that was particularly visible in the works of the great artists. In the Sistine Chapel, I marveled at Michelangelo's work and ached for you to be with me so we could share the moment together.
All through my life, whenever I came to a crisis, I learned to think back on the lessons you taught me. There was always something there to get me through that hard time. I could always close my eyes and see you there imparting your wisdom to me. You were my rock.
Then you left. You went to be with my mother and I missed you so much that it hurt to remember you and think about you. That hurt has never really gone away. But, after so many years, I realize that I don't want it to go away. Because the pain is simply a reminder of how lucky I am to have had a man like you in my life and it isn't even pain anymore. It's a weird mixture of joy and pain. I guess it's what they call 'bittersweet'.
I'm on my own now. You're like an amputated limb that I can still feel. I'll always remember the wisdom you taught me but, I find that, even now, I have need of wisdom that you never imparted. And I'm glad that I remember that lesson so long ago in the forest dawn...to sit quietly and listen for my Father in Heaven's voice. When it comes, I no longer seek you out to share the truths He imparts to me. My wife and my children have taken that place in my life. My Father in Heaven is the rock that I lean upon and whose wisdom I now seek.
And yet, somewhere in my mind's eye, I know you're there watching...and smiling...because I know that this is exactly what you were preparing me for and exactly how you would want it to be.
Happy Father's Day Dad.
