Sunday, June 15, 2014
Father's Day reflections
It seemed fitting to meet my Daddy's newest great-grandson on Father's Day weekend. Ian Charles is named after Charles Baker Davidson, whom I miss today and everyday. Immediately when I heard five-week-old Ian would be at the homeplace instead of more than three hours farther south on Father's Day weekend, I knew I would be there, too. The farm is where Daddy was born and where he died. Mom still lives there, and my heart is very much at home there. I liked being there when Ian Charles made his first visit with his precious mom and dad. My strong awareness of Daddy's legacy wasn't just on the farm. I felt it this morning at the Gainesville church I grew up attending and where family members still filled about two rows today. Certainly his is one of the many empty seats in that Sunday school class that continues to dwindle in size, largely due to the attrition that comes from the passage of years. I don't suppose there is a place we could eat after church that I wouldn't have some memories of Daddy, but the Ranch House and Catfish Louie's is certainly one. (I can only imagine what his comment would have been as the waitress asked me if I was 55 and qualified for the senior buffet; she said she didn't think I would, but I did the math and realized I am 55 -- and this was my first official senior discount!) Yesterday included a 50th wedding anniversary celebration for a cousin on Daddy's side of the family, and of course that brought some Daddyisms to conversations. He would have enjoyed this weekend. I think of how proud he was of his kids and grandkids -- and then those great grand ones. Ryan would charm him, and Ian would just make him beam with pride. But I was also reminded yesterday that cancer had taken away his health in a way that it became a blessing to let him go. I guess the peace and joy I feel today is from gratitude to God for the strong bonds of family that include many, many amazing fathers and mothers. (As I wrote "amazing," I realized none of them would think of themselves that way; they also were and are extremely humble.) I thank my Heavenly Father for this rich and memorable Father's Day weekend.