Yesterday was December 29th. My dad died on December 29, 1989 - 16 years ago. He had a heart attack at home, and died before the ambulance could get him to the hospital. Actually, he was probably already gone before he hit the floor, but mom and I tried CPR anyway until the ambulance could get there and the paramedics could take over. The funeral was on New Years Day. I have so many strange memories from that time - things you would never imagine that you'd remember from a time like that. For example, one of the paramedics that showed up at the house was my 8th grade English teacher, Mr. Whetham. They loaded my dad up in the ambulance and were getting ready to head out, and he paused, put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm here if you need me," and then turned and walked out the front door. Looking back, that's how I knew my dad was dead before they even left the house. Here's another one: when we got to the hospital, they led us straight into the "Family Room." We waited in there for what seemed like ETERNITY for someone to come in and tell us what was going on. A priest finally came in (we were at St. Joe's) and told us that dad was dead. While we were sitting there, taking that in, he offered this wise spiritual counsel: "It hurts like hell, doesn't it?" Last one: there were hundreds of people at his funeral. SRO - standing room only - and there were people literally standing in the foyers and outside. Because of this, it was especially warm inside and one of my friends passed out right in the middle of the service. Hit the floor. It was oddly funny at a very un-funny moment.

Today marks the day that I have lived longer without him than I did with him. It's strange to think about it, because I know that so much of me is the way that it is because of him. He had a huge influence in my life, both relationally and genetically. For those of you who know me and my family, it's easy to see that I'm not too much (not nearly enough, most of the time) like my mom. I got a lot more than my dad's red hair. I got his quick temper, outgoing personality, impatience, sense of humor, lily white skin and freckles, etc., etc. It's difficult to attribute so much of who I am to someone I never really knew all that well. I mean, I knew him as well as any kid can know their dad, but it would be completely different to know him now that I am an adult - from a completely different perspective. I've spent years of my life wondering what he would think of this or how he would feel about that. Even about stupid things, like (and this is a really good one) Michael Jackson. My dad was a pretty big fan of MJ and he died while he was still black and fairly normal (sorry, but it's true). What would he have to say about all of that? More seriously, I wonder what it would have been like to have had him at my graduations, to have had him walk me down the isle, to have seen him hold each of my kids for the first time... I wonder what he'd be like when playing with them now. I know he would have just loved them and been just as proud of them as I am. And they would have loved him - he would treat Abby like a little princess, and he'd have special nicknames for them, and he and Jacob would wrestle and chase around the house just like we used to when I was growing up...and then I remember that he'd have just turned 58 this month, and he probably wouldn't be chasing around quite the same as he did back then...and then I wonder what he would look like now, and that really messes with my head.

I know that there are many theories about what heaven is going to be like - whether we'll see our loved ones again who have gone before us, and whether we'll know them, and what our relationships will be like if we do. More than anything, I hope that I get to see my dad again when I eventually get there (a long time from now, unless Jesus comes back, because I have kids to see graduate and get married and have babies) and that he'll wrap me up in his arms like he used to and that he'll smell just like I remember and it'll be like we were never apart.