"Any man can be a father, but it takes a special person to be a dad"
http://youtu.be/4BrTFH9jmmo
Yesterday I had the opportunity to attend a Youth Conference for the youth of my church. Throughout the course of the day I was able to reconnect with some friends that I had not seen in quite a while. One such friend and I took a short walk and talked a bit about our childhood. She happened to grow up in the same town that my Father was born and raised in. As a child and youth I spent quite a bit of time there, as it that was my Father's favorite vacation spot. We talked about some of the familiar sites in the town and what it was like there many years ago when both of us were young. We decided that we were probably there at many of the same holidays and times and didn't even know it! We both expressed the desire to return there someday and observe how much it had changed over the years we have been away.
Our discussion brought to my memory the special times I was able to spend with my father there in our family's 100+ year old cabin located up the canyon from the town where he was raised. It was the one place on earth when I saw my father genuinely relaxed and content. It was home to him, I could tell. When we visited there it brought to his mind many happy memories from his childhood. He would talk about his family and the summers he would spend living up on the ranch tending the cattle and sheep, and working with his family there.
My father's father passed away from an electrical accident when he was just shy of 10 years old. My father happened to be present when the accident took place and his mother was left a widow for the rest of her life. It was near the end of the Great Depression and it changed their lives forever. My father's oldest brother took on the father figure role in his life because my grandfather passed away when my father was so young,. As a result, they became very close and remained so throughout his life. When my uncle passed away it was like my father losing his father all over again.
My father and his siblings took care of his mother until she died many years later. I was a small child then and barely new her. All I really know of her was how highly my mother and aunts spoke of her and her pleasing disposition. She was a strong woman and well-loved by her children. I have one picture of her standing on the front porch of our house next to my mother, who was holding me as an infant . It was probably on the day I was given a name and a blessing at church. I also have a few letters that she wrote to my father when he served his LDS Mission (coincidentally he served in the same Mission area as my husband did, only many years earlier).
Today I have been thinking about what it was that made my father so special. He was a gentle, tender-hearted and loving man. Generous to a fault at times. He took special care of his mother and my mother, both of whom had some serious physical challenges that they dealt with over their lifetimes. He loved them and showed that love by how he served them faithfully and unconditionally. I am blessed to have a son who seems to carry some of the same personality traits that my father had, and because of this he frequently reminds me of my dad when we are together. It is a special blessing to me.
I have been twice blessed. There is another father with whom I have been blessed to associate in my life. He is my husband, the father of my three children. He too carries many of the great traits of my father, as well as a few that are unique to him alone. He blesses our lives as he faithfully fulfills his role as a husband and father in our home. One of the ways I knew that we were to be eternal companions was by observing the way he interacted with my father when we would visit. There was a mutual respect and love for each other that was obvious when they were together.
I wasn't there the day my father passed away; and that has been one of the difficult parts of his passing. However, I do believe he knew how I felt about him and our relationship. I have since reflected on the last time we were together, it was at my son's high school graduation. I was helping him pack his suitcase to return home from that trip, and I slipped a note into his suitcase for him to open when he returned home. I indicated in that note how much I loved and cared for him, and always would. I am so glad that I made the choice to write those words and put them in his suitcase that day.
The last picture I have of us together - me, my son and my father - was taken by a kind man who worked at the airport. My father was preparing to go through security to board his plane home and we paused to take a picture of the three of us. That man, the anonymous photographer, will never know the significance of that simple act of kindness that he did for us that day, but I will never forget it. It has meant the world to me every day since my father's passing. It seems fitting that it was a simple act of kindness that someone did for us that is the last memory I have of my father here, as that is part of the legacy that he left for me. A combination of the many small and simple acts of kindness and service that my father extended to me, and to many others whose path he crossed over his lifetime. I hope I can continue his legacy in a like manner. Only then will I feel I have paid an adequate tribute to him, and to The One he tried to follow during his lifetime.... "My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man, I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band".
"And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." (The Book of Mormon, Mosiah 2:17)
The Leader of the Band (Dan Fogelberg)
http://youtu.be/NzpiwKNecHc
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