Farewell, Dad

I won’t lie to y’all — me and my dad’s relationship was not perfect. It’s the effect of the Fall. Things were broken, especially after my onset of FA. It doesn’t diminish my love for him or his love for me, though.

Here’s the cause of most of our arguments: I have trouble speaking up due to FA, and his hearing was less than amazing. A lot of times I’d get frustrated because of how many times I had to repeat myself to him or how much effort it took to get his attention, but in the end I know it wasn’t either of our faults. We just live in an imperfect world, and communication issues are a thing, unfortunately.

But the other day, it hit me. Not only will we be reunited one day in Heaven, but all the brokenness in our relationship will be fixed. FA won’t have any claim on me, his hearing won’t be an issue, and sin and tension in relationships will not exist. That is such an amazing thought to me! Not only will we have the joy of seeing each other again, but it will be better than it’s ever been before. Thank you, God!

One of my biggest regrets is a mini argument that we had the morning of the day that he passed. We ate breakfast together in our hotel. Being the amazing dad that he was, he was helping me fix my plate at the buffet. It was early, and neither of us are morning people. When I was telling him what food I wanted, he asked me several times to repeat myself even though I was standing right beside him and felt like I was speaking clearly. After that, I told him something and he nodded but did the opposite of what I told him. It was silly, but I got frustrated, and we didn’t talk much at breakfast. Thankfully, once we woke up later in the day, we let it go, as always, but that is an example of our broken relationship.

Now, this is not to say we didn’t have good times together. We absolutely did, but we had our off days like any dad and son do. In fact, I’m not going to let this post be a total bummer. Let me tell you a good story about us.

In the summer of 2020, when we were dead in the middle of the COVID lockdown, I took Dad fishing at Uncle Harry and Aunt Sherry’s pond. Now, I had been fishing almost every evening that summer, and usually I caught multiple fish each time. Dad wasn’t a big fisherman, but this one time I invited him to go with me.

I was not having much luck that day. The fish weren’t biting, and I believe I got hung on a few tree stumps and had to cut my line. The one time I got a bite, I lost it. Meanwhile, Dad also got hung and had to cut his line, but he kept the broken line and tied on a frog. Instead of using a fishing pole, he drug it along the top of the water with his hands. I assured him it would never work. “Even if you get a bite, you’ll never get a good hook set with your hands.”

Five minutes later, “Got him!” I look over, and he was indeed pulling a bass to the shore WITH HIS BARE HANDS! He unhooked the fish and brought it over to me to be sure to show me that I had been wrong. “What’s that pole in your hands for? Doesn’t seem to be doing the trick,” he said with a laugh.

I got skunked that night, and he caught more than I did without even using a fishing pole. Let me remind you, he hadn’t been fishing in, I don’t know, years. Dads always have to win, I guess. I think he had a good time.

On that glorious day when I see him again, all things will be made new. We will be able to understand each other perfectly, and who knows, maybe the fish won’t be so picky.