2-14-2008-12928-am.jpgYesterday marked the ten year anniversary of my father’s death, and it seems like it just happened last week but it also seems like a different lifetime ago. My dad always enjoyed sitting and listening to me play music, and I was really hoping to honor him last night with a song that I wrote a couple of Christmases ago. But, the show was canceled and I am left to try and beat through a few thoughts on this blog. Not quite as romantic, but it will do for now.

I’ve often wondered how things would be different if he were still around, though I try not to dwell on “what might have been”, as those thoughts can drive any sane man over the edge. I spent the last couple of years of his life, as most teenagers would, not really falling in line with what he was trying to teach me. I was a pretty headstrong and selfish kid, and I missed out on what could have been some really good times. I wonder what I would have learned if I had only taken time to listen and observe. I guess my understanding of God’s will surfaces to give me peace in knowing that “what might have been” never could have been, because the story was already written long before any of us got here. There is a bit of peace in that.

Now that I am older, I find myself wanting to know more about who he was, since who I will be has a lot to do with that. You know; if you know where you came from, it may help you know where you are headed. Every time I go back to my home in North Carolina, a spend a few hours just wandering around the places he used to wander, though I’m not sure what I am hoping to find. I know that he’s not there, but I guess maybe I think that if I see the things that he saw, and do the things that he did, maybe I can, in some way understand the thoughts that he had. I always come up empty, though, and the 10 hour drive back to Nashville is usually done with a heavy heart. I don’t go home as much as I used to, and that’s probably one of the reasons why. As the years roll by, however, I am coming to grips with all this. Every time the big odometer in the sky rolls over, yesterday gets pushed farther and farther away, and memories only get fuzzier. Nothing here was ever made to stay the same. I have had some extreme times in my life, since my father’s death, and I’ve suppressed so many of the bad memories that the good ones, consequently, end up getting suppressed also. I wish that wasn’t so, because I do know that my early years were some good times.

Towards the end of his life, my dad and I started to share a love for the same types of music. I remember, when he was in the intensive care unit in Chapel Hill, I brought in a portable tape player and headphones, and played for him two of our favorite albums, Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers,” and Neil Young’s “Unplugged.” Aside from music, there weren’t too many things that we had in common (I guess for a 16 year old to have anything at all in common with his father is a victory), so it was a way for us to connect. Music has a way of bridging gaps between all of us. I think that he would really enjoy what I listen to these days, and if he were here I’d like to introduce him to a lot of the artists that I have discovered since his passing. Maybe we will have time to catch up on that stuff later.

I still don’t have a firm grasp on what God means about being a father to the fatherless, and I wish I did. Maybe those of us who have earthly fathers seek council in them, as we should. Those of us without earthly fathers don’t have that option, and usually just cut to the chase and find our council in our heavenly Father. Both of these are good, and I’m not sure that I would say one is better than the other. The heavenly Father, obviously, would give flawless council. However, it doesn’t always come through as clearly as what we would hear from our earthly father. I don’t know where I am going with this, but it’s just what is going through my mind right now…I’d love to introduce him to his grandson.