The words he couldn’t spell

Dad, where are you? I often ask my father that question even though he doesn’t reply. Heaven has no phones, but they should! If I make it up there, I’ll suggest that idea to the Boss.

Seriously, I can’t tell you how many times I want to know an answer only my father can provide. “Dad, do you recall, you know, what’s-her-name?” “Dad, how do I get out of this sand trap like you always did?” “Dad, do you have your mom’s recipe for those doughnuts?” “Dad, why didn’t I ask you more questions before you flew off to the no-phone zone?”

Fathers are irreplaceable. If we are blessed to have a good one, we are beyond blessed. Many of us don’t appreciate the value of someone until they are no longer there. It’s a shame that our human nature often prevents us from seeing things clearly until they can no longer be seen.

At times my father and I had a tumultuous relationship, because we were so similar. I didn’t fully appreciate my funny, smart, and delightful father until he was gone.

I recall when I was little, I wanted a father like Dr. Peery, the town pediatrician. I thought he was just the best daddy in the world and was loved by every kid in town. What did I know? I was only seven years old. What I didn’t realize then was that God picked the perfect father for me. My dad didn’t wear a white doctor’s coat, but he wore his heart on his sleeve, and that was exactly what I needed.

Voted the wittiest boy in high school, Ray Walker made folks joyful until the day he died. His sharp wit and rascal-ness endeared him to all he knew. He was a master storyteller whose memory never waned. He could recall the smallest details of a past experience and the listener would accompany him on a journey back in time.

His laughter filled a room, and he was curious enough to meet everyone who gathered there. He couldn’t spell “cat” but could read people like no other because he genuinely desired to know them. He understood human nature instinctively. Daddy loved all kinds of folks, and if there is one thing I learned from him that I treasure, it is that I do too. So, today I write the words he couldn’t spell and tell the stories he bequeathed to us.

There is one memory I recall about Daddy that clearly showed his soul. Dad managed a large lumber mill. He was always in the hardwood flooring industry, as were many in my family. He usually worked on Saturdays until noon. He would check on his employees, head home for lunch, and then go play a round of golf with friends.

One Saturday when I was a teenager,  when Dad arrived home, I noticed immediately that he had been crying. His face was red, and he was dabbing his eyes with the white handkerchief he always kept in his pocket.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” I quickly asked.

“I had to do something today I never wanted to do,” he replied, and then he told me the story.

“My old pal and employee, Charlie, showed up for work a little late today. When I went to greet him, I smelled alcohol on his breath. It wasn’t the first time, but one of many times. I have warned him repeatedly that the lumber mill is too dangerous a place to work when someone is impaired by alcohol or drugs.”

Dad knew too many folks who had been killed by the giant saws that plane the lumber. Safety wasn’t just a rule to him; it was a profound duty to the families of his men. Dad himself had a stack of lumber fall on him in 1947, suffering the aftereffects for years.

“So, after all these years and all those warnings, I had to fire Charlie today to save him from himself,” Dad said. “I am heartbroken.”

Caring for others was always on full display with Dad. It is the greatest asset one can possess, and if we use it and share it, we honor God.

As I recall my father, I am sure you are thinking of yours. If they are still alive, ask them questions. Sit with them, turn off your phones, and just listen. Remember their stories down to the smallest detail. Those memories are what we individually hold that no one else on earth can provide. Loving others is only one of many things my father taught me, but by far, it is the most important.

“Dad, wherever you are… thank you.”