As I begin this post, it is 5 minutes to 12 midnight on the 13th of January. So it is still 8 years to the day my dad passed away. And something weird happened a minute ago: as I read my baby sister's simple post on her blog, I began to comprehend a concept I may not have before: Denial.
Because I sat there staring at his picture, his suit coat, white shirt and tie (a common outfit for him), his happy grin, those slightly crooked teeth (thanks a lot, Dad!), that thick forest of hair (compared to me, anyway), that nose, those glasses--all of it--and I COULD NOT believe he was gone. It WAS NOT true. At that moment, I would not have been surprised to see him walk through the door. As he silently squinted back at me from my computer screen, I was convinced he could not be dead. I remember too much about him, and it is all too vivid, and present, and real, that for me to realize again he passed away took great effort.
My dad was great. That may have been said a billion times by a billion people, but it makes it no less true in my case. My dad was the greatest man I have known. An example to me of hard work, patience, kindness, diligence, politeness, forgiveness, perseverance, and selfless service.
Farewell, dear Father, shall we meet again?
Please know I hold you as the best of men,
Whose noble life I aim to imitate,
Though I may fail to mimic one so great.
3 comments:
i'm glad you wrote this.
Ah, Andrew. You are also the best of men. No denial of that, you hear?
what they said.
i love you, Andrew.
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