My Dad's Special Job


 This past Father's Day I was away with my grandchildren, so I never had the chance to write about my own dad.

As the day passed, I found myself thinking about him—not just because I miss him, but because of all that he never had the opportunity to see.

He never met his four great-grandchildren. He never watched his grandchildren grow into the remarkable adults they have become.

After retiring from the Army, my dad became a teacher. I often think about how proud he would have been to see his granddaughter choose the same profession and devote her life to helping children learn and grow. She teaches and leads with compassion, an open mind, patience, and a genuine belief that every child deserves to be understood.

He passed away when his grandson was only fourteen months old, so he never had the chance to discover how much they would have in common. Both are thoughtful, introspective, wise, and the kind of people who make others stop and think.

As I reflected on Father's Day, I couldn't help but imagine what my dad's "Special Job" might be in the world of Caitlin's Star.

I can picture him leading a joyful parade of children, his booming voice ringing out in song. I can also imagine him as a storyteller, gathering children close, sharing wisdom, answering questions, calming fears, and helping prepare them for their earthly lives with courage and kindness.

Those are comforting thoughts.

Perhaps that's one of the gifts of imagining "Special Jobs." They allow us to picture the people we love still using the very gifts that made them so special here on earth.

Dad, I still miss your wisdom, your wit, and that unmistakable voice. But I like to think you're still teaching...just in a different classroom.

❤️ Happy Father's Day to all the dads, grandfathers, and the fathers we carry forever in our hearts.

Comments

Post a Comment

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Comments are welcome!

Popular posts from this blog

A Mother’s Legacy: Remembering My Mother This Mother’s Day

Image
  Today, while sorting through old photographs and yellowed newspaper clippings, I came across my mother’s obituary. She has been gone for 22 years and yet, somehow, I still feel her presence. Obviously not in a way you can touch or see, but in the guidance that still appears when I need it most. It's in the lessons she taught without ever sitting us down for a formal lecture. It’s in the love that never really leaves us, even after someone is gone. Her obituary described her simply as a “homemaker.” Just one word. But anyone who has ever truly known a mother or grandmother understands that the word homemaker barely scratches the surface. Before marrying my father, my mother had an excellent career in publishing. She was intelligent, capable, organized, and professional long before those qualities were ever recognized in an obituary. Like many women of her generation, she stepped away from one career and unknowingly began another, one that would shape an entire family for...
Read more

When Connection Isn't Immediate

Image
  A place to sit with the day  This morning, I wrote about my yoga intention of being brave and taking a step forward.  Later in the day, I was reminded that sometimes that step doesn’t lead to where we expect.  There are moments in life when we reach out sincerely, simply hoping for connection and sometimes, nothing comes back right away. There’s a pause, a space that can feel larger than it really is.  In that space, it’s easy to start questioning ourselves.  Did I say the wrong thing? Was the timing off? Should I have done things differently? Our minds can play tricks on us and fill in the blanks far too quickly. But perhaps that space is not ours to carry. Perhaps it just is what it is. A moment that didn’t align. A response that didn’t come. A reminder that it’s not a reflection of our worth, but a reflection of timing, circumstance, or where someone else may be in their own life. So we remind ourselves that we can be kind, respectful, ...
Read more

Still Me

Image
  Yesterday I found myself thinking about the ten year old girl I used to be. Today my thoughts moved forward again into another stage of life and what love has meant along the way. It’s funny how our minds sometimes wander back to earlier chapters of our lives. Moments when everything felt new and full of possibility. Like springtime. There is a kind of ache or yearning that can come with those memories, and for the longest time I couldn’t quite name it. Maybe it is my age now but I think I figured it out. Sometimes the yearning we feel when we look back at earlier moments in our lives isn’t about another person at all. It’s about who we were when we were living in that moment. It’s about missing the version of ourselves who lived there. There was an innocence and openness in that time. A belief in possibilities that felt natural and unguarded. So it isn't always about missing another person. For me it's missing the young woman who believed so fully in what life and love mig...
Read more