Today is the tenth anniversary of the death of my dad.  It is always a hard day for me.  Last night, I started reliving moments of that day before his death.  I remember being in his hospital room (he had just had surgery), joking with him and his doctor.  His doctor was a fly fisherman, and we made plans to meet at a favorite spot on the river for evening fishing.  Dad joked that I would out-fish him…

I remember being on the stream when the doctor’s pager buzzed, requiring he call the hospital.  No big deal… nurses calling about my dad… moving him into intensive care for the night so they would worry less. 

I remember the call from the hospital that night.

The memories are so vivid… so clear in my mind.  This morning the memories showered me with an intense sense of sorrow and grief.  I felt like a stone was pushing my heart through my body to the ground below.  Tears flowed.  I decided to put on my shoes and go for a run “around the block”.  In the country, “around the block” means just over three miles on dirt road.

I set out this morning trying to run away from my sadness.  As I looked up, the sun had just started to push through some low-hanging clouds.  It looked like it might rain later, but for that moment, the colors of the sky were amazing.  I breathed, and allowed the light to brighten my mood.

As I ran, thoughts flooded my brain.  I remembered talking to my dad about his illness…cancer.  I remember his surgeries, radiation treatments, and chemotherapy.  Most of all, I remember his smile.  My dad was at peace.

I know Dad was a man of strong faith.  He loved God.  I remember feeling selfish… cheated, if you will, that I might lose my dad.  He, however, continued to smile, even when I told him such things.  I realized something today, more profoundly than ever.  Dad was not asking God to cure him, or to take his suffering away … he was asking God to use him.   My dad wanted to serve God even through his worst days.

Wow.

I know there are people who do not believe any of this.  I know there are people who believe all of this.  I am fine with who you are, either way.  It is not whether it is right or wrong.  Faith in God is a part of who I am. I accept all people for who they are and respect the path they choose to follow, and it does not have to be my path.

This is my blog, so today I am making it about what I believe.

On my run today I started to realize that I have been given everything I need.  Actually, I have been given much more than I need.  I know that each person in my life has been there for a reason.  Each person has touched me in some way, and I have grown from it.  I realize today that when I have quit trying to force things to happen, life becomes much less stressful.

While all of these thoughts floated in and out of my consciousness, I realized I was over two miles into my run.  I slowed down to walk the rest of the way. 

The sky was clearing and pockets of blue peeked through the clouds.  I heard the breeze pushing through the treetops, making the leaves rustle.  I listened to birds call to one another.  I felt the stone lifted off of the top of my heart.  I saw my dad’s smile.

Today I remember my dad.  My faith does not make it all flowers and sunshine… rainbows and unicorns.  My faith gives me hope.  Despite the sadness that comes with the loss of that amazing person in my life, my faith allows me to have hope I will see him again.  I am grateful for all he did for me when he was here.  I am grateful, too, for all he does for me even now.

I am so fortunate to have had such an amazing man in my world.  Perfect?  No… but who wants perfect?

Thanks Dad.  I love you.