My dad was a great guy. I know, all the children say this, but I’m not the only one to know this fact.
Yesterday my mom and I were on the Hidden Kalamazoo tour, and we ran into a great many friends and acquaintances. One such acquaintance, we haven’t seen in years. When my mom approached him, he said that he absolutely remembered her and my dad. He went on and on about how great my dad was. When we met his son in another area of the building later, he said the same thing. My dad was easy to talk to, fair in his pricing, and always ready with assistance no matter the situation.
Other people have come up to us over the years with the most kind words about my dad. They appreciated him, respected him, and enjoyed talking with him. No matter the relationship, he left a positive impression.
One that touches my more than others this year is Bob Medema. He stopped by a few months after my dad had passed on. He would occasionally stop in now and again to visit, and this was one such time. Unfortunately, he’d missed the news, and my mom had to tell him. He did not take it well. He cried on the spot. A few days later, he dropped off cookies.
That was Bob, just the kind of man my dad was (except that my dad pretended he could not cook with my mother, while telling me how to make dishes the way he liked them). My dad would have brought a card or had my mom and I make something to take. At the lose of Bob Medema, my dad would have been stricken to sadness as well and furious at the greed of society for the way in which this community lost Bob.
The blessing today, when I miss my dad, is that he had a long, loving, and good life. His life was filled with hard work and hard times, but he filled the world with the Lord’s kind of love and humility.
Morale of the Story: One of my many, constant prayers is that all children could have a dad like my dad.