Twenty Years (A tribute to my dad)

Today is twenty years...twenty years since my dad died. Twenty years is a long time, but not enough time to be past all of the emotions that come with losing a parent (I'm sure that never goes away). Every year it sneaks up on me because I don't prepare for it and then I see the date on a check or in my email and there it is, another year passed, and it makes me catch my breath. 

But that's how death is, isn't it? The memories sneak up when you least expect them and leak out of your eyes. Over the years there have been many moments (big and small) when this happens: my graduation, my sister's wedding, MY wedding, the start of the Olympics this year (of all things). 

(Pastor - Dad in his office)

As I remember my dad this year, let me tell you a story: 

(Important side note to start: Judah calls my biological dad "Papa Candy" because when we showed him pictures and talked about him that's what Judah thought we said instead of "Papa Andy" and it's so cute we didn't correct it.)

My dad's grave is in West Virginia. It's where he grew up and where his mom was when he died and since he was a pastor and we moved around it didn't make sense to bury him somewhere we weren't sure we'd be...so my dad's grave is in West Virginia. What this means is that I've been there three...maybe four times in 20 years. The last time was when grandma died in 2008.

We drove by St. Albans on our way to family vacation a few weeks ago and we decided to go by since it's so rare that we're in that area. On the way I told Brett and Judah some of my favorite stories about my dad and the things he would say and do. 

But how do you explain going to a grave site to a two year old? When we got there we there we decided it was best not to say "this is where Papa Candy is" because he might worry about that or want to see him. So instead we told him that it is a special place where we can go to remember Papa Candy.

As we were walking through looking for the gravestone Judah kept giggling and talking about Papa Candy. After a few minutes he began to get upset, and then he got distraught and started crying and saying "I see Papa Candy!" Even with our caution, he thought he was going to meet Papa Candy. We kept trying to explain to him that Papa Candy wasn't there, but it didn't help. It was heartbreaking for me. 

It's a hard enough thing to deal with my own emotions and loss about not having my dad around, but that day in the cemetery I understood (once again) that the impact of death is far reaching. My dad's death more than just impacts me and my siblings and my mom. 

My husband never got to meet him, and what a shame. How much trouble they would have caused together! How much fun they would have had! How many discussions (arguments) they would have had over politics! 

And my children will never meet him, or hear those stories about me as a kid, or learn guitar (or ukulele, or banjo or harmonica) from him. And at this age, Judah doesn't understand why he doesn't get to meet someone whose picture is up in our house.  

(The year I was born, with Dad and my older sister)

My history is a little less complete for not having his love, his stories, his advice, his wisdom. And while I am truly grateful for the men in my life; for my amazing step-dad, my wonderful father-in-law, for great uncles and siblings and other men who speak into my life...there is always a little missing piece, a dad-shaped hole. 

And so today, I remember my dad. Twenty years...it's a long time, but also it's not that long at all.