My Dad

Since last Sunday was Father's Day, I've been thinking about what makes my dad so great. Truthfully, there's not enough web space available to say the good things I need to say about my parents. However, I would like to share something I've not shared with many people.

See, I've had four dads in my lifetime. The first dad was the guy who let me comb his (non-existent) hair and put barrettes in it while he watched TV. He would also make eggs, laugh when I ate margarine, and try to convince his mother that telling me I had "rats" instead of "snarls" in my hair was a bad idea. This dad also rescued me from many a sleepover when I got scared and wanted to come home. He lasted until I was 11.

When I was 11, dad #2 entered the picture. This was the dad that was busy with work all the time. He was sick then, but I didn't realize how sick or understand the ramifications of that stupid disease called "Diabetes" that was ravaging his body. This was also the dad that had me working at age 14 every day after school to keep me out of trouble - and paid me for it so I would have money to do the things I wanted.

Around age 17 or 18 (the timeline isn't clear on this one), dad #3 showed up. This was the unpleasant, unhappy, mean dad who instilled fear in us every time we heard the garage door go up. He stayed up late at night to finish work and got up early to get out of the house. In his defense, we think the other stupid disease called "Parkinson's" was just arriving. Thus, we don't blame him for his mean and ornery self; we just wish we had known sooner what was happening so we could do something about it.

Then, at about age 25 (timeline here is fuzzy, too), dad #4 was diagnosed with Parkinson's. This is the dad I've known since. There have been tears, laughter, anger, regret, and prayers. And this has been the dad that has wished he could return to his heavenly home sooner rather than later so he can be rid of his physical body that doesn't do him much good now. Perhaps of all the dads, this is the one I look up to most.

See, it's not a tragedy when someone dies if they have lived a good life. Dad has done that - he has lived a very good life. He was the best Gospel Doctrine teacher. He was the best Sunday School teacher. He was a hard worker. He was a defender of all that was good. And he is mine - eternally. What a wonderful thing to know. So, a week later and still thinking about it, my dad is by far the greatest one I'll ever know. Until I meet my Heavenly Father, and even then I know Dad will be right there waiting to greet me and defend me and love me. When you have parents like that, you learn to expect a lot out of others and hopefully end up with an eternal mate as good as or better than (if that's possible) your very own dad.