A Father's Love
It's been a year since tragedy struck our home and I've spent some time digesting what that means for our family. As I wake up today, a federal holiday, I am happy to have all of my family under one roof. But the reality is, the only reason we are all home is because there is a memorial service planned for their father today. And losing a father is no reason for celebration.
Fathers are a lot of things. Each family has different needs and expectations for the man who fills this role. In Norman Rockwell's world fathers were the breadwinners, disciplinarians, and baseball coaches. They were big, burly men who wore suits or uniforms and left the house only to return and sit at the head of the table. They drove the family around in the big car and carved the turkey on Thanksgiving.
But some fathers are not so traditional. Like people, some fathers are quite different in what they can provide to their family.
Brian was one of those non-traditional fathers. He was not the breadwinner, but instead the cheerleader. He was not the disciplinarian, but instead the comforter. And he may not have ever been a coach, but he was their favorite sideline picture taker and the first person to give them a hug after the game was over.
One thing that he was really good at was communicating his love for his children. "I love yous" and "I miss yous" and "I'm proud of yous" spilled out of his mouth so easily and so frequently. They knew that he loved them because he made sure to tell them.
I'd like to share with you a story that Ceci wrote shortly after her father's passing. It is her story - the way it happened and the feelings that she felt. It is both extremely sad and especially motivating and I am grateful for it. I am proud that she has a way of expressing her grief. And I'm am overjoyed that she has found a way to move past the pain and continue to live and love.
(Click here for Ceci's story)
I know that the reason my children are able to move past this grief and keep on living so courageously and boldly is because they have no doubt in their minds that their father loved them. We are all lonely and missing him. We all wish we had more time. But in his short life, Brian took every opportunity he had available to him to tell us he loved us.
It's easy to forget to say the important words. It's easy to assume that everyone knows how you feel. But one thing I know about love - and words - is that their value doesn't go down the more you express them. No. I am sure that my children are thankful for every single second they had with their father and every single word of love and praise that he spoke.
Time matters. Words matter. Love matters. And it is more valuable than anything else that we can have or give.
Fathers are a lot of things. Each family has different needs and expectations for the man who fills this role. In Norman Rockwell's world fathers were the breadwinners, disciplinarians, and baseball coaches. They were big, burly men who wore suits or uniforms and left the house only to return and sit at the head of the table. They drove the family around in the big car and carved the turkey on Thanksgiving.
But some fathers are not so traditional. Like people, some fathers are quite different in what they can provide to their family.
Brian was one of those non-traditional fathers. He was not the breadwinner, but instead the cheerleader. He was not the disciplinarian, but instead the comforter. And he may not have ever been a coach, but he was their favorite sideline picture taker and the first person to give them a hug after the game was over.
One thing that he was really good at was communicating his love for his children. "I love yous" and "I miss yous" and "I'm proud of yous" spilled out of his mouth so easily and so frequently. They knew that he loved them because he made sure to tell them.I'd like to share with you a story that Ceci wrote shortly after her father's passing. It is her story - the way it happened and the feelings that she felt. It is both extremely sad and especially motivating and I am grateful for it. I am proud that she has a way of expressing her grief. And I'm am overjoyed that she has found a way to move past the pain and continue to live and love.
(Click here for Ceci's story)
I know that the reason my children are able to move past this grief and keep on living so courageously and boldly is because they have no doubt in their minds that their father loved them. We are all lonely and missing him. We all wish we had more time. But in his short life, Brian took every opportunity he had available to him to tell us he loved us.
It's easy to forget to say the important words. It's easy to assume that everyone knows how you feel. But one thing I know about love - and words - is that their value doesn't go down the more you express them. No. I am sure that my children are thankful for every single second they had with their father and every single word of love and praise that he spoke.
Time matters. Words matter. Love matters. And it is more valuable than anything else that we can have or give.
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