Missing my Dad

After I got home from the bank this afternoon, I continued my work from yesterday cutting boards for an entertainment center and a bookshelf unit for my new house. As I measured the boards with a tape measure inscribed with the word, "Honeybrook" etched onto the face by my Dad when he still had his cabinet shop, I couldn't help remembering the day he gave me that tape measure. I marked a straight line for my cuts with a square marked bold, "DES" in my Dad's thick handwriting. Then I cut each board to length with a circular saw he had gifted me when the cheap one I had finally died. And then after I sanded the rough edges to be more user friendly in a living room setting, I taught my future bride how to stain with the same technique my Dad had taught me at five years old. To say my Dad was on my mind all day wouldn't be scratching the surface of the emotions flooding my brain.

My Dad was my teacher, my mentor, my guide..... and now he's gone. He never knew I got my job in North Carolina and he never saw my new house. He won't be there when I marry the woman of my dreams, and he will never again pray for me or tell me he loves me when I leave. He won't get to enjoy the beauty of my new car or listen to my stories about how beautiful the mountains are that surround my home. Never again will I hear his voice unless I play that last voicemail he left me that I've saved on my cellphone. My Dad is gone and it hurts like nothing I've ever experienced before.

I'm so very glad he got to meet Alli and wonderfully encouraged by the fact that he saw in her a perfect match for me. I'm so very glad I broke my foot which forced me off the trail because it gave me the chance to say goodbye to him. And I'm so very glad that my Dad got to experience my book named in his honor and so grateful that we shared it together as I read it to him over multiple visits.

Unfortunately, at least for tonight, the bad is outweighing the good. I miss him, so so so very much. Tears still fall when I hear a hymn he used to sing or think about his stories or remember his laugh. What I wouldn't give to hear just one more parable of wisdom or one more chorus of his voice or one more belly laugh that made everyone smile.

I miss you Dad. I wish you were here to help me work on my house. I wish you were here to give me a hug. I just wish you were here.