Note: This was original written before I decided to start this blog. I am presenting it in the original form, so the timing is a little off. But its best unchanged. Thanks
What would Daddy want from me now that he's gone? Odd question? Sure it is. Now a full eight months and two days he's been gone and this is the first time it has crossed my mind. Maybe it's the question that helps me move on. And I think that's what Daddy would want. For me to move on. He certainly would not want me to just quit on his account. In his way, he was always trying to move me forward, to make me better.
I can imagine Daddy, knowing that Jessica and I are expecting our little girl, almost unable to contain himself. Point of fact, he probably is bragging all over heaven that his baby boy is about to be a daddy. I imagine over there there he is different, but no so different. Having shucked off the conceits of this world, having no longer the feeling that he should be overly reserved with his emotions.
But back to the question.
He would want me to keep plugging along, doing the best I can; learning, growing. Becoming more of the man that he had a hand in raising.
Daddy never said he was proud of me. Not to me at least. But there came a point in which somehow, I knew.
After he became too sick to take care of things, I took care of things. Mama and Daddy's washing me stopped working. Mama tried to check it out but couldn't physically move things about. Daddy told her to call me because "David's pretty good at figuring things out."
That said more to be than one thousand "I love you"s or "I'm proud of you son"s ever could have. Daddy came from the old line where those things weren't said between fathers and sons.
I think that if God allowed Daddy a few minutes just to give me some advice, he would say this:
"Keep going. Keep moving. Keep working. You know what you need to do. You've always been pretty good at figuring things out."
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