A Father's Love

I remember Daddy's hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.

I remember Daddy's hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back for something done right.
There are things that I've forgotten that I loved about the man,
But I'll always remember the love in Daddy's hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'.
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle
But I've come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy's hands.

I remember Daddy's hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I'd live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy's hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'.
Daddy's hands were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle
But I've come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy's hands.

~"Daddy's Hands" by Holly Dunn

Today should be a relatively easy one...for me anyways.  At least that's what I thought when I woke up this morning.  I mean, I always feel tremendous sadness and grief for every person who is hurting because of Chuck's death.  But today, Father's Day, I honestly felt more pain for his children than anyone.  Mother's and Father's Day, to us, were basically just another one of those Hallmark holidays.  We really didn't make a big deal out of them.  But it has always been nice to still be acknowledged on those days.  

It's bad enough that the kids, at least my two boys, have been inundated with countless ads and commercials for the last few weeks.  I honestly don't think they ever paid much attention to this kind of stuff in the past.  And maybe it's just me being hyper-sensitive to these things now, but it appeared to me that they would get quiet or even walk out of the room altogether at the mention of Father's Day on tv.  

 

Compared to our anniversary a mere 6 days ago, for sure this day would come and go as most other days do.  I bought him a card last week, as I do every year.  I visited my own Dad for awhile and decided I would stop by the cemetery to place Chuck's card on my way home.  I would stand there and reflect for a few minutes and then go about the rest of my day.  Simple enough, right?

I knew the cemetery would be quite a busy place today.  Pulling in there, I had this odd urge to scream out the window to anybody who would listen, "I'm not here visiting my Father!  I'm here to honor my kids' Father...my Husband!"  I love my Dad dearly but I couldn't help but think about how wrong it was that I lost my husband before either of my parents.  I should have had way more "practice" visiting other people at cemeteries before I started going to my husband's grave.

Of course I kept my mouth shut.  I didn't shout anything out the car window.  It sure felt good to acknowledge that I felt that way though.  And to accept my feelings for what they were.

Pulling up closer, I glanced towards the dying roses and heart balloon I placed there earlier this week.  And what I saw literally took my breath away for a moment.  Others had been there today!  There was a pretty decorative pot of flowers sitting on the marker and another small arrangement stuck in the ground right next to it.  It surprised me at first.  And then my heart just melted.  All I could think of was, "Look at how much this man was loved."  Another thing that came to my mind was the possibility that other people do, in fact, come out here from time to time.  Just because they don't always bring flowers doesn't mean they don't come out here.  Perhaps the only evidence of their visit, if it were possible to see, would be the tears that have been soaked up by the ground.  God knows I've left plenty of them there.  

The pretty flower pot was left by his Mother...along with a beautiful card.  How sweet and endearing that she made a trip to the cemetery on Father's Day.  It reminded me that she sees him as not only the loving son he was, but as the Father of her grandchildren.  That touched me in ways you can't even imagine. 

The other arrangement was left by his daughter Nichole.  I have to say that this came as a complete shock to me.  (Those that know Nichole and the chaos surrounding her might understand why I feel this way.)  

For a brief moment, my heart and my feelings towards her softened a little bit.  That doesn't mean I agree with or accept her behavior, but for the first time I can respect that she, too, is stumbling along the path of grief.  She also lost a part of her life that can never be replaced. 

He only wanted her and her daughters to have the best life possible and he would've gone to any length to give that to her.  He just couldn't accept that she needed to want and achieve that on her own.  Until the very end.  He finally accepted that he had done all he could for her.  While he may have been disappointed by many of her actions, I have no doubt that his love for her -- his only daughter -- never wavered.  It created a rift between us on many occasions.  But that was truly one of the reasons I admired and loved him from the very beginning.  Nothing could change the love he felt for his kids.

So I came home today looking at that whole situation with a different set of eyes.  For a little while, I saw some things in a different light.  It proved to me that there will always be new lessons to learn.  There is always another angle to look at a situation.  I'm learning that you have to be willing to open up your eyes and keep an open mind...but in the end you still have to be true to yourself and your beliefs.  Most of all, you have to remain true to what's inside your heart and give others the courtesy to do the same.

Perhaps Nichole stops out there as often as I do.  Honestly, I didn't think she would even be able to find his grave if she tried.  But maybe, just maybe, she sits out there for an hour on a nice day.  Maybe she talks to him.  Maybe she places her fingers on the letters of his name.  Maybe she looks up to the sky and questions why.  Maybe she kneels on the ground and kisses the only concrete proof of his existence goodbye.

 

I hope she does.  I hope she and her Dad still have that relationship.  The same kind of relationship I still have with him.  A changed relationship...but an enduring and everlasting one.  

I certainly am not ready to forgive her for so many things.  I'm only human and it's not that easy sometimes.  Her Dad probably never stayed angry with her long enough to need to forgive her.  But that's okay.  It's more than okay.  That's the way it should be between a parent and child.  At least a good parent. 

And he was a good Dad.  To all of his kids.  Sure, he lacked patience sometimes.  Other times he felt like he needed a break.  He yearned for some time for just himself or for us as a couple.  What parent hasn't felt that way?  But his kids were his heart.  No matter what went wrong in life, as long as his kids were safe and secure, all was right in the world.  He was like a big, strong papa bear.  He would fiercely protect his kids if needed.  But he was also the most gentle soul you could ever hope to meet.

And I'm proud of the Father that he was and of the legacy he left behind.

Thank you, Chuck, for giving me our sons and thank you for the impression you've left on all of our lives.  Through your children, grandchildren and future generations, your legacy lives on.

Happy Father's Day, Baby.  To one of the best.