Happy Father’s Day

My dad died August 1, 2000. I just got off the phone with my brother…the brother that has braved the storms of father-child relationships and loss with me. We spent the conversation sharing memories, positive and real, hard and funny of our father. When we hung up, I went and pulled a letter out of my red journal. I wrote this letter two years ago…July 17, 2006. Thought I’d share, for transparency sake, for healing, for camaraderie, for honoring the memory of a not-perfect father…

Dear Dad,

I realize being human means we have lots of layers and I didn’t always get to see all of yours. Part of that is probably normal for a father-daughter relationship. Part of that was circumstance. And probably part of that was choice…yours and mine. But I really wanted you to know that I do remember good times with you…I remember that layer. I remember my childhood being a happy one. And I wanted you to know that you were instrumental and influential in those memories. I remember waiting up at night, fighting to stay awake just to see you when you came home from a business trip or from work. I remember being really hugged by you. I remember sitting on your lap or leaning over and steering that old brown truck. I remember making our weekly pilgrimage to the flea market and I got (heaven forbid) scrunchies and gloves. I remember how hard I laughed, so hard I could barely breathe when you counted mine and Tyler’s ribs. I remember you dedicating that George Strait song to me one time when we were riding in the car. I remember you pulling Tyler and I on sleds. I remember planting a garden in Indiana…the carrots are what I remember, though I’m sure there was probably more to it than just carrots. I remember going to the park and collecting colorful leaves and pressing them so we could make a leaf notebook. I remember playing the Alphabet game in the car on trips. I remember riding in the Z with the T-tops out and thinking that was so cool. I remember building sand volcanoes and playing at the beach in Florida. I remember playing shuffleboard at our condo. I remember you teaching me the only song you knew on the piano (and for the record it’s the only one I know now). I remember how you fixed up a special peach room for me in Brooksville. I have good memories. And I wanted you to know those weigh in the balance. They’re not forgotten. I want you to know that I commit to honoring you as my father. That doesn’t mean I’m not honest…actually it means I am…completely. Not just one sided…not just my side. It means I start acting like the best daughter I can be and actually consider you. And I’m sorry it’s taken this long for me to come to a point where I can be really honest and committed to this. Dad, I’m praying that this letter will really solidify this commitment; that it will make it very real and relevant in my life. I’m praying that I will see the fruit of obedience and the fruit of honoring your position and role in my life. But I’m also ultimately praying that this letter will represent a healing between us…you and me and God and me. And I know that would please and honor you.

~Kara

~ by Kara Belcher on June 15, 2008.