My Dad

My dad passed away in 2006.  It is really hard to believe that he has been gone from us for nearly 8 years.  I've copied a "note" I wrote about my dad on Father's Day, 2009.  Because it was Father's Day this past Sunday, and because we are approaching July - the time of year that we first learned of my dad's cancer - his memory has been fresh in my mind lately.  The other night while worshiping at church, eyes closed and hands raised, I got a vision of my dad in heaven.  He was wearing a clean, white robe, and was near the throne of God, his hand raised in a mirror image of mine.  He sang and worshiped the Lord, and once turned to look over his shoulder at me, and smiled.  I rarely get pictures like this.  In fact, even as I recount it, it sounds like the kind of cheesy thing I would usually roll my eyes at - cynic that I am.  Sorry, but it's true.  However, this picture struck me at such a deep level, not only because I miss my Daddy, but because it was as if God was showing me that Wayne Land is alive and well, and worshiping Jesus, even as we worship Jesus here on earth. 

It is a sad reality that Tyler will never know Grandpa Wayne.  Many people tell me that Tyler looks like my dad, and there are things about his personality that remind me of my dad.  I think they would have adored each other.  My heart aches to think that Tyler won't get to experience that loving, playful, wise teacher that my dad was to his kids and grandkids.  I find solace, though, in the fact that they WILL meet one day.  They will meet, and probably embrace.  I think my dad will know Tyler and wrap him in a grandpa's hug.  And as Tyler grows up and hears stories about my dad, I think he will know his Grandpa Wayne too.  He will recognize his beautiful heart.

Here is the earlier post:

My dad

June 21, 2009 at 1:37pm

I miss my dad. I thought Father's Day would come and go, no big deal. No big plans to celebrate, as my husband is not yet a father, and my father has passed away. In a way I guess I assumed, and maybe on some level even hoped, that I would go through this day without an influx of memories about my dad, so that I didn't have to feel the pain and sadness of being without him. But the memories come, and though his death is a sad reality, the memories are sweet, and in them I think there is healing to be found. So I allow myself to remember - to cry tears of sadness, to chuckle to myself about the funny things he did, and to recall with joy the great man that he was.

My dad was a kidder. He was the king of cheesy jokes and pranks, and got simple joy out of being silly. He liked to play. He never seemed short on time or energy when it came to playing with his kids and grandkids. I remember playing softball in the back yard, taking bike rides to the park, playing "monster," or, in our case "scary jailer" (he would tie me - loosely - to the banister with old neckties, and when I escaped from jail he would chase me around the house, catch me, and tickle me until I laughed so hard I would nearly pee my pants). He was ALWAYS young at heart. He loved sports - watching and playing. And I loved tagging along to be the "bat girl" for his church softball games, taking a nap on the couch beside him while he watched football on a Sunday afternoon. I marvel as I remember him going to the YMCA and jumping in a basketball game with guys 40 or 50 years younger than him - and he gave them a run for their money, I tell ya. With his white, freckly legs in gym shorts and his white socks with color stripes pulled up tight around his calves. He never cared much about making any kind of fashion statement. :)

My dad loved music. There were few evenings that he didn't spend time in his "music room" playing guitar and singing, teaching himself to play the banjo, and, in more recent years, doing some sequence recording on his high-tech cassette recorder. He played and sang for no other reason than the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed it. He loved country music, and mostly bluegrass, and plucked that banjo till we were all ready to lose our minds. Wow, I miss that sound. He often wanted me to come in and sing with him, and I did, when I wasn't in my "I'm too cool for this" mode. I am a musician and I know a LOT of songs, but there are certain songs that I would never have known if my dad didn't teach them to me. Those songs will forever be some of my favorites - not because I particularly love Willy Nelson or Roger Miller, but because HE sang them, and HE loved them. Though I doubt I realized it growing up, his love for music gave me the freedom to love it too and in those times, singing and playing with him, we shared a bond with one another that is precious to me.

My dad had a heart full of love. You would be hard-pressed to find someone who cared and loved his family more than my dad. And he always seemed to look out for the under-dog. He never hesitated to reach out a helping hand to someone in need. He may not have had a lot of money or material things to give, but he gave unconditional love and accepted others as they were. Christ lived in him. He was a faithful follower of the Lord, and taught each of us kids exactly what that means and looks like on a daily basis. I don't remember many mornings that he wasn't up early, sitting in his chair and doing his Bible study. As my husband aptly pointed out, my dad did the right thing, simply because it was the right thing to do. He was steadfast in his devotion, to his wife, his kids, his job, and his Savior.

My dad was not perfect. I know that. Yet, even in his imperfection, even when he struggled, he taught us how to be resilient, how to keep on trusting, how to live a life pleasing to God, and ultimately, how to accept death with grace and dignity and unshakable faith. The things my dad left with us - his sense of humor, his faithfulness, his ability to take each day as it comes, his love - these things are a part of me, and I will take them with me and hope to live as beautiful a life as he did.

I realize not every person has the privilege and blessing of having a man like my dad as a father. I am grateful every day that he loved me and that he set an example for me. And I am grateful to those dads who attempt each day to live lives worthy of the calling they have received, as fathers and husbands and friends. I thank them for what they do for their kids - it matters.

I miss my dad. I pray that he is well and safe and peaceful in the arms of his Father. I will love him for always.

In Memory of George Wayne Land
1939-2006