Today marks 19 years since Dad went home. From this day forth, each day I live will be more than the days I had with him. This milestone bears some reflections.
I had some reflections a few years ago, and they all still ring true. What do those 19 years mean? It means my Dad did not see the fruit of his labor on this side of Heaven. I know he would have preferred us to serve as officers but Brother and I both served as enlisted soldiers in the Army. He did not get to be the proud father to see his sons return from war. The kind of pride a Father has not for the merits of the mission but for the sense of service and duty it proved. The faithfulness to our family ethos carried on from his generation to mine.
He did not get to see his son serve in his church in his own right. I grew up as an usher about as young as I could. It certainly felt a bit off being one of the few students in a suit from the earlier service, but I got to be one of the ushers. The time spent in the count room after offering was invaluable for this young impressionable pre-teen to listen to righteous men chatting about life, faith, and their adventures. Most of whom were older than Dad. It is invaluable to surround our young men with the presence of older men who have endured the challenges of life and remained faithful to their families and faith. I got to serve in our church’s youth ministry for the better part of a decade. I got to pour into students as the men who poured into me.
He did not get to see his son graduate from college. There was a nagging uncertainty. My accomplishments in high school granted me guaranteed admission to a SoCal UC. I never applied to go anywhere. Between my Dad’s health and the state of the home, it was not time for me to leave yet. There certainly were ups and downs, as I would expect every household to have as a boy is trying to figure out what it means to be a man while living at home… like many from my high school and station in life, I went to the local community college. Why? Because that is what one is supposed to do after high school, right? That aimless direction contributed to my notably declined success during my high school days. Knowing how my Dad was always so surprised by my academic achievements from my public school days, those grades would not have been significant to him. It would have only mattered that I was achieving more than he did. Little would either of us have known it would take me more than a decade to finish my Bachelor’s degree. I brushed off my graduation, almost forgetting to attend commencement. Graduating from college separated me from many of my generation. Between our childhood socioeconomic status, the single-parent upbringing, and military service, I was already on a road traveled by few. Who would have thought that road would continue to be “less traveled” as I move from my upbringing to this career in academia? He will not get to see me hooded as I graduate with my Ph.D. this Winter. He will not see the family I will one day have, the generations of students I will get to teach. If my current course evaluations are any indicator, I think I’m on the right track.
He will not get to see the man I have grown to be. For all the bumps and bruises this thing called adulthood has been, Dad left off when the journey barely began. He set out to make us men. It has not been a metric of romantic conquests, the amplitude of gaseous expressions, or the number of houses/cars I have accumulated. No, it has been faithfulness to the upbringing that he committed to that we love God and serve others.
