Thanksgiving 2007
It’s been two years.

It’s been two years. I finally mustered up the courage to go through Dad’s personal belongings. I knew it would be difficult, and it was. He did not have much. But, when I sorted through his clothes, I cried. I could see him in the shirts and pants. And, I remember when Mom bought him some of the clothing. It’s been two years, but I still remember. I kept some of his flannels for Lucas and me to help insulate us from the chill of the seasons. That was his outerwear of choice for the last 30 years. I am sure he would be pleased to know we will be wearing them now. I kept his last pair of shoes. They were brown ankle high boots that had a strap over. Brown, that was Dad’s color; he was an earth tone guy. I never saw him wear a black pair of shoes except rented ones for Bob’s wedding and mine. I’ll take those old shoes next spring and dig them in the ground and plant flowers in them. That would please Dad even more than wearing his flannels because he was a man of the soil.

Included in his personnel things were the last greeting cards he ever received. I looked at them all…birthday, Easter, Christmas, thinking of your, Father’s Day. People had such kind and compassionate words for Dad. In the fog of Alzheimer’s, I am sure he understood very little of what was written. But, of course, that is not the point. Expressions of love are just that, whether understood or not. During the card reading, I cried again.

It’s been two years but there are still tears. Spring and fall are the most difficult times. Spring because when the earth comes alive, Dad came out of his winter cocoon charging into cultivating and planting. In that way he participated with the Creator awakening the earth and His creatures to a new season of growth. When I spade and plant my own little garden, I remember Dad and I cry. Fall is equally nostalgic. Summer’s harvest is in with corn boils, tomatoes in all manner of preparation, apples and other fruits gathered, potatoes and carrots dug and all foods preserved for winter eating. Fall was synonymous with football, a sport Dad loved. And, then came deer season, Dad’s real passion…spotting deer, shooting in the rifle and going to camp. When the garden is gleaned, the leaves fall from the trees, when Squaw Winter appears and men start wearing blaze orange, I remember Dad and I cry.

Two years have passed since Dad went to be with his Maker and it is not becoming any easier. And, I suspect it will not. I continue to remember, which is good. I cry, which is not bad. I miss Dad, and Mom too. But, by remembering them I remember their impact on my life. Next to a godly wife a man can have no better earthly influence than godly parents. I remember that and seek to impact my biological and spiritual issue as they did me. And, I remember the day is coming when I will be with them again where there will be no past or tears. This Thanksgiving I remember Christian parents who made me memories but also introduced me to the God Who makes a permanent, joyful place for all those who put their trust in Him for their eternal home. I am thankful.

After Thanksgiving, Susan and I will make the trip to the Union Cemetery in Luthersburg. There we will place a wreath in front of the tombstone of Mom and Dad. It is the evergreen of the eternal Christ and the unbroken circle of His everlasting, eternal love for His. I’ll pray and then wipe away the tears of remembrance and thanksgiving…again.