Father, Dad, Daddy, Papa, Pops, and so many more. To a little girl her daddy is her first love, her Prince Charming, and her protector. My view of my daddy is no different. 

My dad was the youngest of three boys. He and his brothers were the sons of a collegiate athlete which meant they grew up learning how to be competitive and played a variety of sports. Between those three boys they had 8 girls and the youngest grandchild was a boy. Nonetheless, the girls and the boy played sports and grew up learning how to be competitive from their dads. 

Growing up my dad coached my soccer team, plus he was always there to help with my softball team as well as my sister and I’s basketball teams. There wasn’t a game or a tournament that he wasn’t there cheering for us, keeping stats, the scorebook, and even yelling at the refs. He challenged us at home to practice and work at improving our jumpshot and free throws. In fact, when we missed a free throw in a game we had to pay him money because in the words of Chip, “Free throws win games”.

My mom and dad loved taking us on road trips and various adventures. I know there are a plethora of photos and VHS tapes that hold memories of our family adventures and even an epic fail that involved white shorts, an iron, and a plastic tablecloth at a campground in Canada. I feel like my love for travel and adventure was born from great road trip memories as a kid. The best memory was probably the infamous “Chip shortcut”. On any road trip or just drive to dinner my dad would say, “let’s take a shortcut” and we of course would roll our eyes because it always meant the drive would take longer. But looking back, that was part of the adventure and can I say I miss the “shortcuts”.

So why am I writing about my daddy? Well, 15 years ago today he stepped into heaven and accepted a full and complete healing. 

In 2006, he had been dealing with crippling back pain and not seeing any relief. Then one day something showed up on an x-ray that had not been seen before. Then tests and more tests and finally around Thanksgiving a diagnosis of cancer. By this time it had already spread and treatment was an uphill battle from the beginning. But like the strong, stubborn man he was he faced the challenge of chemo and radiation. These treatments are not for the faint of heart, and walking alongside someone in these treatments is also challenging and exhausting. This was no exception for my mom, my aunt, my sister and her family as well as Jason, Abby and I.

From the beginning we stood and fought with scripture and healing confessions. We aligned our prayers with what my dad was speaking over himself, “I will live and not die and declare the works of the Lord”. We crafted scripture bookmarks to help us confess life, strength, healing and faith daily. As the reports came in we continued to stand strong and support my dad on his journey. Now this is where I would say as the oldest child I felt a strong urge to protect, to defend, to prepare for what was coming, and yet I felt compelled to stand in faith. How do you balance faith for healing and preparing for what you can see coming?

The treatments progressed, medicine was changed, increased and decreased but nothing seemed to be attacking the cancer. There were various trips to the hospital for a variety of issues, if you have ever walked through a cancer battle with someone you understand. Each time there was prayer, discussions, prayer, and decisions. My mom had a “go bag” with everything she would need to answer any possible question from the doctor including all the medications, treatments, amounts, when it was last administered, and any side effects. She was a walking encyclopedia of medical knowledge. My aunt was a huge help. She was living with my parents at the time and she cleaned, helped care for my dad and supported my mom in any way that she could. 

Then Easter Sunday. This day was both good and hard. For the first time in a while my dad was up and moving about, he had on sweats, and a long sleeve t-shirt (probably a Big Dog shirt) and a navy sweater vest. He had portable oxygen, but that did not stop him from watching his kids and his grandkids hunt easter eggs and play outside. The day was cold and gray. We ate an early dinner and after dinner the Hannah Montana wig and microphone made an appearance and between Abby and her cousin Jack they put on quite the show for a 5 and almost 2 year old. It was the best Hannah Montana concert I have ever been to!  

The following Sunday my mom called to say that my dad had been admitted to the hospital. So my sister and I went and spent some time there. It was like the other times and did not seem any more serious. On Monday, I was able to slip away from work for a few hours to sit with my dad. I do not regret one moment from this day and will always hold those moments close. The next day my sister called…I was needed at the hospital. I arrived and we were immediately pulled into that conversation you never want to be a part of…you know the one where you talk about your preferences and end of life care. It’s one of those conversations where you hear the doctor begin talking and then all of a sudden your mind is racing and all you hear is a voice that sounds like Charlie Brown’s mom on the other end of the phone, “blah, blah, blah…”. Then you snap back in time for the doctors to ask, “any questions”? 

That night I curled up in the chair beside his bed and just sat with him, talked to him,  and prayed for him. It was quiet, it was dark, and it was peaceful. My mom and sister came back in the early morning hours and I moved to the waiting room to get a little sleep knowing it would be a long day. 

4.25.07, felt like a revolving door of visitors. By mid-morning the waiting room was full of people that wanted a few moments to say goodbye to a man who meant the world to them. One by one they moved from the waiting room to the ICU room and back again to wait with my sister, her husband, Jason and I. Then at the very end of the day the final visitor came through, he had been trying all day to get back into town to see my dad. My mom, my sister, her husband, Jason and I returned to the room. Our pastor and his wife were there along with my dad’s doctor. The room was quiet. It was peaceful. He chose life, healing, and the presence of his Heavenly Father where there was no more pain and suffering. We cried, we sang and we just sat in the moment. That moment changed me and I did not fully grasp how much until recently. 

That moment when your dad, your coach, one of your biggest cheerleaders steps out of this physical world is one where you feel that emptiness and loss deeply. He never saw Abby graduate PreK, Kindergarten, high school, go to prom or even on a date (sidenote: he would have loved giving that boy a hard time!). He never met 3 of his grandchildren, but one is named after him. He has missed 15 years of moments and memories and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could talk with him or ask his advice on various issues. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could watch a game with him again or watch him use his Hasty Bake grill wearing that silly apron and chef hat or just hear him laugh. He had the best laugh. 

He is greatly missed and has left an amazing legacy that is carried on in the lives of his surviving wife, his children and their spouses, and most importantly his grandchildren. His love of sports, jokes, funny cards, road trips, adventures and shortcuts has been passed on to the next generation. More important than all of these is his love for God. His favorite songs were Amazing Grace and In Christ Alone. He knew that he had been that wretch from the song. He also knew that he had been graciously saved, completely redeemed and he loved taking any opportunity to share his story of how he experienced the real Jesus. 

Ask me about my daddy. Ask me about my Jason. I promise to ask about your person. Talking about your person honors their life and their legacy. Do not shy away from saying their name and recalling funny, sad, or crazy stories. Doing this helps others get to know you and helps you feel closer to your person, even for a moment.