Grieving Out Loud

A Tribute to the First Love of My Life on the Day of His Funeral

While the man you see lying here at the front of this room may look like my dad— This is not my dad. My dad is not here. 

Do you see this belly? This is not my dad’s belly. No, my dad’s belly jiggled with laughter and it jiggled a lot because he was always laughing. This is not my dad’s belly because my dad’s belly was cozy. As a little girl it provided a sense of comfort and protection as I snuggled up against him and rested my head on that big, soft, squishy belly.

Look at these arms. These are not his arms. My dad’s arms were big and strong. They lifted me up on his shoulders as a child. Allowing me to see things from a different perspective that I may not have been able to experience otherwise. Sometimes he hoisted me up there simply to give my little feet a break- because that is just the compassionate dad he was. My dad’s arms were interlocked with mine as he walked me down the aisle on my wedding day. Without hesitation, he separated his arm from mine to give me away to my husband. Confident in Kyle’s ability to love and care for me and he was relieved to know that he wasn’t giving me away to what he referred to as a “meat head”. My dad’s arms cradled my babies as he fed them their bottles and allowed them to sleep on that same squishy belly that I once found solace in as a child. His arms were quick to pull me in for a hug anytime I walked in for a visit, again before I walked out to leave and sometimes just randomly in between. 

These are not his hands. My dad’s hands gripped the steering wheel of an 18-wheeler for 32 years. Sacrificing so much in order to make a living to provide for his family back home. Driving a total of 3 million miles across the United States and Canada. His hands gave every server he met a more-than-generous tip. Those same hands paid for and delivered warm meals to the homeless on the side of the road or wandering through truck stop parking lots. His hands cupped my face as he looked me in my eyes to ask if we had enough groceries at home when we fell on hard times. 

These eyes are not my dad’s. My dad’s eyes checked for monsters under my bed and in my closet when I was young. His eyes had the power to correct my behavior with just a glance. They were full of love and adoration for my mom- the love of his life for 44 years. He only had eyes for her. My dad’s eyes were blue. I was blessed to have inherited those same blue eyes. His eyes sparkled with pure joy at the sight of his grand babies. My dad’s eyes had crinkles in the corners from the smiles he shared with strangers, or anyone who crossed his path for that matter. 

This is not my dad’s mouth. My dad’s mouth was quick to crack a joke and you couldn’t help but laugh– no matter how corny it may have been. His mouth spoke with kindness. It spoke to me using terms of endearment when he referred to me as “darlin’” and “sweetheart” or when he really meant business it called for me as- Amanda Joyce. My dad’s mouth shared his testimony with me. Reflecting on the moment in time when he realized he was a sinner and needed Jesus Christ to save him. His mouth speaking about a moment of conversion gives me hope and peace even in the midst of great sorrow. 

But, there is one moment I will never forget for as long as I live. After a few years of a strained relationship with my dad I will never forget how his arms, his eyes, and his mouth worked together to change the trajectory of our entire relationship. On my wedding day during our father-daughter dance…

His arms held me lovingly as we danced.

His eyes wet with remorse.

His mouth sought forgiveness for past hurts and wrongdoings.

THAT was my dad. 

There are no words to adequately express how thankful I am for that moment and I will cling to that memory for the rest of my life. He was the best dad- and an even better Papaw. 

In closing, I want to remind you– This is not my dad. My dad is not here.

Instead…

My dad is in the laughter that I share with others. He is in every corny joke I crack.

He is in the hugs I give to loved ones because life is but a blip and we do not know when our hourglass of time will run out. 

My dad is in the generous tip I leave at the restaurant and when I help those less fortunate than myself. 

He is the twinkle in my eye when I look at his beautiful, blue-eyed grand babies because I know how much he loved and adored them. 

My dad is in every apology that comes from these lips of mine because he showed me how to admit fault and seek forgiveness from others when I hurt them. My mouth will also be quick to forgive others because no one is perfect and the reason we are even gathered here today is evidence that none of us are promised a tomorrow.

My dad is not here, but he is not gone. 

No, you see, he will live on through me and the way I choose to live my life.

I hold onto the precious memories and the hope that I will see him again one day. Until that day comes I will live my life in a way that I hope would make him proud. 

I love you Dad and I will miss you forever.