It has been 47 years since the foundation of my life was rocked by the death of my father on January 26, 1973. It was sudden, unexpected, and we were totally unprepared for all the ways our carefully planned life would change. (I give my mother total credit for holding it all together, because it was HARD, and surely wasn't in her life plan, and I don't think I was very helpful.)
In those 47 years, I have grown up, I have graduated three times (only to not use any of the education I received for anything I now do!) I have gotten married twice, I have two children, I have two grandchildren, I have moved more times than I care to remember, I have made friendships that have endured all of life's traumas, and I have built a life that could have used a father's input, but which has had the benefit of a strong and independent mother. You have been sorely missed, but it has been good anyway. Perspective is everything, and my glass is three quarters full.
There is a saying, if your glass is half empty, get a smaller glass. I have made that my truth, especially in the last ten years. No matter who you are, life could always be improved in some way. I have seen quite wealthy people live a life of hidden misery, and I have observed people with nothing find the joy in the smallest of blessings. Life satisfaction is not about money or possessions, however much they help ease the path. Living well is about finding the good in everyday life, the incidental miracle, the unexpected gift that comes your way.
Some years ago, I slowly came to the realization that my glass was half empty, and I set about changing it. Change is difficult. It is painful. It involves loss and upheaval and scary leaps of faith. You go through periods of mourning what you no longer have, even as you appreciate what you have gained. But ultimately, living with a glass half empty is soul destroying, and I value the gift of life too much to dwell there for long.
Today, as I remember my dad, I can't help but appreciate one lesson I learned from his early loss. No life is guaranteed. I have gotten to enjoy so many things he didn't, including seeing my children grow up and the incredible blessing of grandchildren, which he would have loved so much. Change is not an easy path, and I have not always faced my difficulties with grace. But I certainly do appreciate the gift of being here to experience what my dad never got to, and that fills my glass to brim. My dad taught me to find the smaller glass, and I am grateful.
I miss you, Dad. The scab over the wound has gotten thicker, but I still cry every single time I hear the hymn, "Lead On, Oh King Eternal." My eyes continue to well up every time I think of your glasses on the tip of your nose, looking at me with a big smile. I miss your hugs. I miss your loving enthusiasm. I miss your encouragement and your wisdom and your practical knowledge. I miss the way you loved my mom and made her happy. The memory of the hole in my nylons that I fixated on during your funeral is still burned into my memory, because it allowed me to get through the hardest day of my life.
But I thank you for leaving me with all the lessons you did, the memories we have, the best mom in the world, a brother who grew up to be more like you than you would ever have imagined, the solid foundation of faith in action which you taught me, the integrity you showed me, the generosity of spirit which touched so many people in ways you never knew.
From smaller glasses we have grown good lives. It is a valuable legacy. I think you can be proud.
