I was 15 when my mother died. As I walked out of church after the funeral, it hit me: we never got to have one of those heart-to-heart mother-daughter talks.
Then, ahead of me, I saw Dad carrying my three-year-old brother, Michael. His cheek was pressed against Dad’s dark suit, and the finger he was usually sucking had fallen from his mouth. He’d gone to sleep during the service and now, on our father’s broad shoulder, he felt safe. At that moment, I believe, God had a plan for us: missing Mom so much, we’d learn to know Dad.
Our father had always been loving, but he was the authority figure, working hard as a high-school teacher. If I wanted to go out on Saturday, I’d have to ask his permission. He’d say, “We’ll see,” and he would not give a definitive yes until he was satisfied all my chores were done. He always had Mom talk to us about personal things. He’d get embarrassed – it was his upbringing, I guess.
Now here he was with three teenage girls on his hands. Suddenly he had to confront things like dating and brass. The man who seldom showed his emotions became a man who’d listen to all our deepest heartaches.
When I was in college, my boyfriend, Paul, broke up with me. I thought it was the end of the world. When I came home for the weekend, dad saw something was wrong the minute I walked in the door.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. I turned to him, and everything spilled out. He didn’t have a lot of answers, but he was there to listen. I never felt that a mom could have done better.
Dad’s support helped me see things through: Paul and I decided t get married. And when it came time, Dad insisted on doing the reception. The day before the wedding, there he stood in or cluttered kitchen, peeling potatoes, fixing sandwiches and then packing everything in ice-cream buckets to take to the church.
I was so happy to be getting married that I never thought I’d be a nervous bride. But right after Dad walked me down the aisle, my chin started quivering. When I looked over at him, he was crying too.
Paul and I now have three kids, and Grandpa is part of their life too. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas we go back to Dad’s. and he cooks. Then recently we decided with my brothers and sisters to take a camping trip the way we used to with Mom.
We camped out for a week – 12 of us – Dad and all his kids and grandchildren. It rained the whole time, but Dad loved it. I think if Mom was watching, seeing us together and strong, she was happy for us too.
Dad helped me see that every person is here for a reason, affecting others in ways we cannot see. We all miss Mom more than words can express, but we were given the best mom a dad could be.
