One of my favorite pictures shows my dad in a hospital gown, holding newly-born me in his arms. I asked him about it once, and he said that he was telling me, “I’m your daddy.”

My Dad loved a lot of things: cameras, bikes (with or without motors), guitars, telling jokes and stories, family, and Jesus. Although usually the quietest person in the room, if you got him onto one of those topics it was hard to get him to stop talking. I can remember carefully crafting the perfect question just so that I could sit next to him and enjoy his full attention as he answered.

I remember when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. That was hard. That was when I abruptly understood like a rock in my heart that my daddy was not omnipotent or invulnerable. But my faith grew as he constantly pointed to the Father above who was. He lived his whole life pointing to God.

It was also really hard when my dad was diagnosed with dementia. Mostly because it hurt seeing things become so difficult for him, but also because of the fear of what was still coming. My biggest fear was of the day that he would look at me and not know who I was. That he would forget he was my daddy. But he never did. He couldn’t always put a finger on my name, but he always knew me.

He began to struggle with finding the right words and remembering how to do simple tasks that he’d done all his life, but he never forgot the important stuff. He couldn’t ride his bikes or play his mandolin, but he always kept praying. He prayed for me, for our family, for the bible students he’d worked with in Africa. He told me once that it was the only thing he could still do.

He wasn’t the perfect dad, but he was my daddy and I’m going to miss him tremendously – listening to his stories, hiking with him in the woods, going to him with my life’s tragedies and listening to his gentle advice, telling him about the crazies of my day and asking him to pray for my students. He will be so missed.

But he’s healthy now. And he never forgot me.

If Dad were here today, he wouldn’t want all of the attention. He wouldn’t want this to be all about him. He would want it to be a time of swapping stories about the good times and of thanking God for them. Of reminiscing over the tough spots and of thanking God for them. Of telling fun stories about the people we’ve loved and sharing our favorite glimpses of Heaven - and of thanking God for them.

So…

Thank You, Abba, for my Daddy –
For the life he lived for you.
For the hope we have in the midst of pain
Because Your promises are true.

My dad is gone, but not forgotten.
You have fully set him free.
He’s In the arms of One Who loves us –
And he still remembers me.

The sharp pains of this world
And the bumps along the way
Only brought him closer to You, Father,
As he plodded through each day.

I stand here on the darker side.
And, Abba, my heart hurts.
But I’ll follow where he led me
Staying faithfully alert.

He was the good and faithful servant,
And he praised You through it all.
He heard Your still small whisper
And was loyal to Your call.

Now it’s my turn to point the way,
To trust when life grows stark,
To dance with joy on the sunny days,
To be light in the dark.

The journey isn’t easy,
And we’ve one companion less;
But I’ll march on with a smile
and my daddy’s faithfulness.

Thank You, Abba, for my Daddy.
For the life he lived for you.
For the hope we have in the midst of pain -
Because Your promises are true.