Brushstrokes of a Father

My mother would be proud of him. 

Five years ago, ill with cancer and waning in strength, she surprised my dad by asking me to take her to his art show at the Abington Senior Center. His smile showed how much her coming meant to him. He introduced her to his art-colleagues as they walked hand in hand around the room to view the paintings. We still talk about it. She passed away two short months later.

Photo by Ben Freda

Last Sunday, my sister and I made it point to attend this year's art show at the Senior Center. Barb arranged her visit from Indiana so she could attend, and my daughter and her friend also popped in to support "Grandpa." Live music, refreshments, and handshakes all around made it a memorable occasion. Ben Freda from the Abington Journal took Dad's photo and summarized the event HERE.  

Dad uses water colors to create his paintings . . . usually a still life or a scene from nature. At 82 years old, he attends class every Thursday after he has had lunch at my kitchen table and has helped me take my garbage and recycling to the curb. Our Thursday lunches have become a ritual for us, one I look forward to. 

As another Father's Day rolls around, I've been reflecting on Dad's brushstrokes in my life. He's modeled the steady colors of consistency, godliness, and loyalty. His dry sense of humor and funny comments add light to our conversations. His having lived many decades brings perspective to my thinking, and His love for God's Word challenges me to remember what's truly important when "the cares of this world" seem to be calling my name. We've both lost our spouses and understand loneliness and loss, yet we help each other move forward with God's strength and with grateful hearts.

I love you, Dad. Along with Mom, I'm proud of you, too. Thanks for the brushstrokes of character you've painted for me and Barb and for your wonderful example of quiet strength and hope. Happy Father's Day!

Here are a few samples of Dad's paintings, most watercolor:

This scene is done in colored pencil.

Father's Day . . . With and Without Dad . . .

Today I enjoyed a date with my dad.

Dad and I, Veterans' Day 2016

Well, if you call a trip to Boscov's for khaki pants and a mattress cover a date. But I was intentional about offering to go with him, an 81-year-old navy veteran, retired gas company employee, artist, and widower. I hadn't been downtown to shop in a long time, so with purchases complete, we meandered around in his usual non-hurried way. He treated me for lunch, and we ended our time in his immaculate kitchen with me demonstrating how to make beef gravy. A nice time together.

I'm blessed. Not everyone can enjoy an ordinary day with his or her dad.

Like my own daughters.

Barry's Old-fashioned Roses, 2017

This is the third Father's Day they mark the occasion with only their memories, memories of a dad who cared deeply for each one . . . and not just about what they were currently doing but about their hearts and what they were thinking and feeling and planning. He had a way of asking questions to help them think it through, work it out, and come to a satisfying conclusion. His insights brought clarity, truthful perspective, and often humor.

How we miss those conversations.

And yet, we carry him with us every day. How many times have we said, "Dad would have loved this." OR "Now, what would Dad say about this decision?" OR "Dad would be so proud."

July 14, 2012

How does a family honor a man we can no longer see and hear and touch? How can we ease the ache of loss on Father's Day? Perhaps, it helps to take time to remember all he gave us while he lived, all he stood for and taught and modeled . . . and to carry out his legacy, that of loving God and others with humility, of learning and growing in ways that span the gulf of time and eternity.

This weekend and beyond, let's take time to honor our dads. A handwritten note, grilling his favorites, listening, making a call. Or taking time to remember . . .

No earthly father is perfect. Some memories may hold pain and regret, disappointment and frustration. If possible, focus on the positives. And let's not forget: we have a heavenly Father who loves and cares for us in the greatest way possible, who will never leave us, no matter what happens. 

"The memory of the just is a blessing . . ." Proverbs 10:7