A Major "Dad Moment"
I was proud to have been a participant in a major "dad moment" this past Father's Day. This was the second Father's Day without Dad, but his memory is never far away from my mind. As we were eating lunch, Chase dropped his entire plate of food down his once clean "church" shirt. Food splattered against his clean church pants. I, sitting next to him, also absorbed the french fries, hot dog, ketchup, and mustard on his plate. I just stared at my son for a couple of seconds; unsure of how to handle a crowded restaurant and a suddenly messy 7-year-old boy. The waitress immediately came and supplied napkins. Rachel blushed and looked out the window. Eli laughed, and Brooks dipped a piece of his chicken into the ketchup that was spilt on Chases' shoulder. As I studied the situation, Chase began to sniffle back tears.
I suddenly remembered one of my own Father's Day mishaps when I was a kid. When I was 10, I couldn't think of a better Father's Day present than for my father to take me fishing. That was my present every Father's Day until I became a young man, but I think Dad really enjoyed it as much as I did. It slowly became a Father's Day tradition that we caught our best fish on that day, although I was actually a horrible fisherman. While we were on the water, I finally hooked a "big one." I could feel it through my fishing rod and into my palms, and I knew I was going to make Dad proud. All of a sudden, the fish won. I broke the rod, and I fell into the water. I panicked, and Dad jumped in to "save me". I felt like I ruined Father's Day. We went home, dried our clothes and bodies, and I just sat in my room thinking I had just disappointed my hero. A few minutes later, Dad knocked on my bedroom door. He came inside, sat down on my bed, and told me he loved me. He said, "they're just clothes, Joseph." My shame melted away, and I hugged my father.
Sitting at the restaurant, I looked at Chase. His bottom lip was quivering, and he was holding back his tears with a hand to his forehead. I hushed the other kids, and I took Chase to the restroom. I evaluated his condition there, and I soon realized that we'd have to just go home so that both of us could change into clean clothes. As I was wiping his arms and face free from ketchup and mustard, Chase sniffled, "I'm sorry, Daddy." I kissed Chase's head and said, "they're only clothes, honey." We eventually left the restaurant with five boxes of food; with Chase and I wearing the rest.
Thank you, Pop!
Joe
I was proud to have been a participant in a major "dad moment" this past Father's Day. This was the second Father's Day without Dad, but his memory is never far away from my mind. As we were eating lunch, Chase dropped his entire plate of food down his once clean "church" shirt. Food splattered against his clean church pants. I, sitting next to him, also absorbed the french fries, hot dog, ketchup, and mustard on his plate. I just stared at my son for a couple of seconds; unsure of how to handle a crowded restaurant and a suddenly messy 7-year-old boy. The waitress immediately came and supplied napkins. Rachel blushed and looked out the window. Eli laughed, and Brooks dipped a piece of his chicken into the ketchup that was spilt on Chases' shoulder. As I studied the situation, Chase began to sniffle back tears.
I suddenly remembered one of my own Father's Day mishaps when I was a kid. When I was 10, I couldn't think of a better Father's Day present than for my father to take me fishing. That was my present every Father's Day until I became a young man, but I think Dad really enjoyed it as much as I did. It slowly became a Father's Day tradition that we caught our best fish on that day, although I was actually a horrible fisherman. While we were on the water, I finally hooked a "big one." I could feel it through my fishing rod and into my palms, and I knew I was going to make Dad proud. All of a sudden, the fish won. I broke the rod, and I fell into the water. I panicked, and Dad jumped in to "save me". I felt like I ruined Father's Day. We went home, dried our clothes and bodies, and I just sat in my room thinking I had just disappointed my hero. A few minutes later, Dad knocked on my bedroom door. He came inside, sat down on my bed, and told me he loved me. He said, "they're just clothes, Joseph." My shame melted away, and I hugged my father.
Sitting at the restaurant, I looked at Chase. His bottom lip was quivering, and he was holding back his tears with a hand to his forehead. I hushed the other kids, and I took Chase to the restroom. I evaluated his condition there, and I soon realized that we'd have to just go home so that both of us could change into clean clothes. As I was wiping his arms and face free from ketchup and mustard, Chase sniffled, "I'm sorry, Daddy." I kissed Chase's head and said, "they're only clothes, honey." We eventually left the restaurant with five boxes of food; with Chase and I wearing the rest.
Thank you, Pop!
Joe
posted by Joe | 5:28 PM
2 Comments:
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Hi Joe. I became a widow 6 months ago when my husband was killed by a drunk driver. We have two children, our youngest was a year and a half old at the time. Anyway, I have been spending the hours that I don't sleep searching the internet for some sense of hope - in the form of others that have survived before me - and I came across your blog. I went back and read all of your posts from the begining, and I would like to thank you for sharing your experiences with the rest of us. I admire your courage and am in awe of your faith, which is something I've been struggling a great deal with since my husband passed away.
Anyway, I'm rambling. But I wanted you to know that your posts are appreciated even by people that don't know you or your family. Your words are like little inadvertant morsels of encouragement. Thank you...
*my previous comment was removed by me because I've never commented on this site and don't know what I'm doing :)
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