"Homesick" by Mercy Me

Throughout the past 3 months, the way that I have "survived" and dealt with my grief of Dad's passing has been to force myself to remember the good things, to be thankful for the times I did have with Dad and to always tell myself, "Even though I can't see him, he's still here in some form, listening, agreeing, laughing along with us."

I also admit that sometimes I have even forced myself to STOP thinking about things simply because I know that if I continue, I will be a mess and not much use to anyone. Of course I have my moments of sadness, and of course I miss my Dad and of course it hurts, physically hurts in my heart, at times, but I guess as they say, to each his own.

So anyway, in light of all that, I wanted to share this song I heard on the radio a few days ago, not to pour salt on anyone's wounds, but just because I think my Dad deserves to have the words to this song posted on his site. It's a song that I have known for a long time but only recently heard again and that time, it took on a whole different meaning.

"Homesick" by Mercy Me

You're in a better place, I've heard a thousand times,
And at least a thousand times I've rejoiced for you.
But the reason why I'm broken, the reason why I cry
Is how long must I wait to be with you?

I close my eyes and I see your face,
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place.
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow.
I've never been more homesick than now.

Help me Lord cause I don't understand your ways,
The reason why I wonder if I'll ever know.
But, even if you showed me, the hurt would be the same,
Cause I'm still here so far away from home.

I close my eyes and I see your face,
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place.
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow.
I've never been more homesick than now.

In Christ, there are no goodbyes,
And in Christ, there is no end.
So I'll hold onto Jesus with all that I have,
To see you again,
To see you again.

And I close my eyes and I see your face,
If home's where my heart is then I'm out of place.
Lord, won't you give me strength to make it through somehow,
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow,
Won't you give me strength to make it through somehow,
I've never been more homesick than now.

Missing you Daddy. Can't wait to see you again one day, I really can't.
-Alisa

Sweet Home Pennsylvania

Tee and I just got back from a trip to Niagara Falls, Canada. About a week before we left I started getting a little nervous about having to drive through Pennsylvania since that's where dad's from. So I did what I do best: I thought and worried....and worried and thought. I decided to ask Tee if we could get there (from Virginia) without having to go through PA. I knew the answer, but it was worth a try. Let me take that back...not worth the try.

Well, the time came and finally we piled our bags and ourselves into the car. Tee and his brother wanted to leave around 12am so to get ahead of DC morning traffic. "OK, maybe we'll get through most of PA while it's still dark?? At least that way I won't be able to see much of anything" I hoped. By the way, one thing I can say that I definitely got from dad is his luck. And as luck would have it, the PA sunrise is around 5:30am. Which gave us juuuuust enough time to be a good hour into the freaking heart of Pennsylvania.

So I woke up to find myself surrounded by the endless, green, tree-covered mountains of dad's home state. I was sad. I missed him. The "actual-hurting-in-your-heart" kind of missing him. I remembered all those trips that dad, mom, Alisa, and myself used to take to Uncle Pete's house. "Pete's Farm"..that's what dad used to call it. "I wanna take a trip up to Pete's farm soon" he'd say to my mom. "We can just drive up 17. I wonder how that damn dunkey's doing". I could hear his voice. I remembered my mom passing out snacks to the three of us, then resting her arm on dad's shoulder and gently rubbing his earlobe with her thumb while enjoying the views, no snacks for her. This would be every snack time, every trip. I remembered when we got close dad would turn on his CB radio, give the handset to Alisa and I, and tell us to say "Hey, Uncle Pete! Ya gotch-yer ears on?!". And I remembered never needing any music on because listening to dad's childhood stories was a better kind of entertainment.

On the way back down through PA from Canada, I realized I was feeling safe in the familiarity of what was outside my window. For the first time, I felt at home there. I wish I would have been able to say that while dad was still here. I wish I could have let him know that I appreciate Pennsylvania. That it's somewhat sacred to me now. And that one day, I'd like to call it home too.

Thanks for the memories, daddy. Love you.
-Diane

A Different Kind of Phone

This Father’s Day will be a different experience for me. For most of my life, I’ve been able to either wish in person or on the phone a Happy Father’s Day to my dad. This year, I won’t have to look for his number on a contact list or make sure I have good cell signal. I’ll be using a new model of communication. This one is lightning fast, lightweight, highly reliable and always has a good signal. This year, I get to use a very dependable courier to deliver my message. I’ll pray. Granted the transmission of my signal will be much faster, stronger and more efficient than my reception of Dad’s response. But, the response will be there. I’ll just have to listen a little closer and feel the response with my heart instead of hearing it with my ears. I do long for the old way because it was something I had grown accustomed to over the years. But as time and life march ever onward, I am forced to give up the old technology for the new. It’s going to be very hard to get used to, but I have faith and confidence and that makes the new change just a little bit easier. I love my dad, he is forever with me not only as my namesake but woven into every part of who I am today. I know my sisters and brothers as well as many others will have to make this adjustment as well to this new communication method. It will be easier for some than for others, but it will work just as effectively. As a father myself, I am immensely honored that God has blessed me with that privilege and honor to be a father. My hope, my goal and my dream is to be able to pass on to my children that which my father has passed on to me which is in the words of George Strait, “Love Without End, Amen”.

I Love You Dad. - Mike

Thoughts of Grandpa

I get on face book and I look at my profile picture, grandpa and me on the day I graduated high school, I want to change it. I want to move on from this, it doesn't feel right yet. I didn’t get to spend as much time with him as I wanted to, I didn’t get to talk to him as often as I wanted too. Probably because for a long time I just assumed I had time. I didn’t have enough time, I need more time.

It hurts too much to read the memories that are on the website. I struggle with it because I wish I had more time, for as much as I loved him I should have gone to him and created more memories. I guess this is what death is, the should have’s and the could have’s. I don’t talk to anyone about it because the last thing I want to hear is people telling me that I should be happy with the memories I have, he loved me, everything I don’t want to hear right now. I’m living in should have and could have moments and I can’t change them.

I always played pool to impress Grandpa, I loved it. I loved making him proud with my shots and form. The thing I loved more than playing was watching him play. Grandpa would play with grace and confidence. He was never overly confident, but I think deep down he knew how good he was. The way he would glide the stick along his fingers amazed me, it has been the only thing that ever looked natural to me. There are times in your life where something just makes sense, this was my moment. Grandpa and his pool stick just made sense. He’d never hit the ball to hard, he’d never hit it to soft. Grandpa and pool go together like ping and pong, it was poetic the way he played. I remember looking at his face in games, his eyes focused deeply on the cue ball, but his overall facial expression just looked content. I’ve watched professional players and they never have the look Grandpa had. I never realized how much I focused on him playing until recently, I don’t know that I’ve ever given this much attention to anything else in my life.


I have yet to pick up a pool stick, I have yet to meet my friends at the pool hall. I don’t know that I will again…I guess pool right now just doesn’t make sense to me.


I love you Grandpa,
Dawn

Well Said

Something dad used to say that came to me today and made me laugh:

"When I die, I want to be buried face-down, so the world can kiss my ass."

Miss you, daddy..
-Diane

"Cry Out To Jesus" - by Third Day

To everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
when you said goodbye

And to all of the people with burdens and pains
Keeping you back from your life
You believe that there's nothing and there is no one
Who can make it right

There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart
There is grace and forgiveness
Mercy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus, Cry out to Jesus

When your lonely (when you're lonely)
And it feels like the whole world is falling on you
You just reach out, you just cry out to Jesus
Cry to Jesus

To the widow who suffers from being alone
Wiping the tears from her eyes
For the children around the world without a home
Say a prayer tonight

There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart
There is grace and forgiveness
Mercy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus, Cry out to Jesus

Miss you, daddy..
-Diane

"Looky!!"

(The first paragraph might be a little hard to read or a little disturbing. It talks just a little about how difficult dialysis was for dad so if you'd rather not know, you might want to skip to the second paragraph.)

Dad really hated dialysis. I mean hated it. When I would pick him up on Saturdays from his dialysis, he'd always say (in an exhausted tone) "...aaaahhh! Now I don't have to do dialysis for two whole days. I'm so glad I don't have to go back until Tuesday." This, of course, broke my heart. Every time he'd get in the car and say this, it would just make me so sad for him. His right arm where his fistula (dialysis port) was would be completely bandaged up. Sometimes with dried blood smears down his wrist and hand or between his fingers. I'd open and close the door for him because his arm would either be sore (from where they would insert the needles for access), numb (when he would remember to use his salve so he couldn't feel the access), or just plain weak (from having to leave his arm in the same position for 4 straight hours).

Needless to say, I hated seeing him like this. I mean hated it. For some reason, about a week ago, I started remembering this part of dad's treatment and how much I hated the fact that this huge fistula was in his precious arm. His once strong, healthy, perfect arm. Now also covered with bruises from his being on blood thinners.

But the other night I had a dream about him. Mom, Alisa, and I were sitting on my couch just chatting. Dad walked into the room, pulled his right sleeve up to his elbow, and said in the most playful voice "Looky!!" and held his arm straight out in front of him. No fistula, no bruises. Just like new. Then the three of us started clapping and cheering as loud as we could "Yaaaaay!!! No more dialysis, no more bruises!! YAAAY!!!" And he was sooo happy and was smiling and laughing soooo much. And that made me happy too.

Yay, Daddy! Your arms are as good as new. I love you.

-Diane