| | Yesterday was the eleven year anniversary of my dad's death. It floors me to say and acknowledge that. I tried so hard to ignore the day. I thought about it several times, but I just couldn't bring myself to mention it. I didn't talk about it with Eric, I didn't call my mom...nothing. But my body must KNOW. It must need the release. Because after trying so hard to ignore it all day, at 1:00 a.m. last night, I couldn't put it aside anymore. And I just laid in my bed and cried. And I BEGGED God to please tell my dad how much I miss and love him. There is a lot I could say, but I think I said it all last year, so I'm just going to repost what I wrote last year.
**As I sit here with tears pouring down my face, Brady came in to ask me to help him go potty. He looked at my face and said, "Mommy, why do you have doze sad fings on your face?" and proceeded to clumsily wipe them off with his little toddler hands. Thanks, Lord. I needed that.**
Originally posted on Jan. 6, 2008-
January 6, 1998 is a day that changed my life forever. On that day, the Lord took my dad, Stephen Forrest Hatfield, home to heaven. Today makes ten years. On one hand, it almost seems longer, because so much has happened since that day. One the other hand, sometimes the pain is so fresh it feels like it just happened. I remember when I first heard the news, the first thought that flew through my head was, "Life will never be good again." I remember the next day, sitting in my mom's living room with the rest of my family and thinking, "People must be praying for me, because I am doing okay...how on earth am I doing okay?" And at his funeral thinking, "So this is what the peace that passes understanding is...I don't know how God is getting us through this, but He is"...I couldn't understand how, but I was okay...and then a few months later, realizing that there were still good times, and life was still going to be good...just not how I thought it was going to be. Today, I have a WONDERFUL life. A truly wonderful, blessed life. Ten years ago tonight, I honestly didn't feel like that would be possible, but here I sit, blessed by God, but aching for my dad.
I don't think we had the typical father/daughter relationship. I think we had what I wish WAS the typical father/daughter relationship. He was so good to me. Because of my life as a softball pitcher, he and I spent a lot of time one on one through hours of practice. He was my catcher. Even after he had his pacemaker put in and couldn't bruise because of the blood-thinners, he just went out and bought full catcher's gear so he could still be my pitching partner. He loved my softball career. I remember the night I was invited to come to Grace College to try out for a scholarship for my college years. I had just gotten off the phone with the coach and worked out my flight to visit Indiana. My dad was SO excited he literally couldn't stand still. He was pacing around, making fists, and couldn't stop laughing, and smiling, and squealing with joy. He told me that even if I didn't get the scholarship and nothing came of pitching in college, this exciting visit made all the work (and all the money) over the years worth it. It was such a big moment for us. Fortunately, it did work out and I pitched for Grace College. My freshman year, my parents and little sister flew out and surprised me so they could watch a few games. (It was a REALLY big surprise, because the weekend right before, I had flown out and surprised THEM at my brother's wedding. I think poor Eric was the only one that knew both things were happening, but he couldn't tell anyone!) Having my dad there to cheer at those games was awesome. Especially since I had one of my best pitching sequences ever to a batter...struck her out so humiliatingly that she swore and chucked her helmet over the dugout...My dad's joy over that radiated for miles, I promise.
He was a talker and I am a talker, so we were a great match. Throughout high school, I can't remember ever coming home, no matter how late, where he wasn't waiting up, playing solitaire on the computer, ready to talk about my night. I would lay on the dining room floor, he would sit in the chair and keep playing and we would just talk. When I was twenty years old, I would have listed my two best friends as my husband and my dad. Most of who I am today is because of my relationship with my dad. He loved me. He invested in me. He believed in me. And he made me believe in myself.
He was a man of God. He was retiring from his civilian job with the police department to become a pastor at our church when he died. He loved God's Word more than anyone I've ever known or known of. He read it all the time. When we'd go to amusement parks, he would always wait on the bench for us with his New Testament, reading away. I think he went through the Old Testament twice a year and the New Testament four times a year...EVERY year. ***EDIT...my mom corrected me...it was the O.T. once a quarter (4X per year!) and the N.T. once a month (12 X per year!...told you loved the Word of God!)*** I once knew the count of how many times he'd read through the Bible, but I've forgotten. But it was a lot. He loved the church, he loved serving in the church, he loved teaching in the church. He was so gifted in those areas. His impact is still felt by those that were blessed enough to sit under his teaching. None were more blessed by his love for God and his teaching than our family. We got to grow up seeing it every day and I only pray I can glorify God and serve my local church half the way he did.
I can see how much of who I am is from him...and sometimes I just ache to have him see me as I am now. He loved me as a kid and a teenager, and a newlywed, but I just wish he could see who I am today. There is so much to miss about him. He was so much fun to have around. His jokes were legendary (some in a good way, some in a not so good way...his office officially retired some of his frequent one liners for him...). I wish my mom still had his love and companionship. I wish he would have been there to see my sisters get married. I desperately wish he could meet his grandchildren. He was amazing with kids and I can't think about the joy he would get from my four without physically hurting. There are times I've had troubles with people or church issues and I have longed to be able to call him for advice. There are times I've had bible questions and wished that he was only a phone call away (he saved me a few times in Old Testament in college) Every time we are going to visit family or they are coming here, we wish he was going to be a part of it also. But of all the things I wish he was here for, the big events and the small...I think I miss just having him in my corner all the time...knowing that somewhere across the country, is someone who is crazy about me...and is proud of me...and thinks I'm one of the most special people he knows. Everybody needs that. I have supportive people in my life, of course, but there's nothing like having a dad who's nuts about you. I want to hear what he thinks about my life. I want to have him see me as a wife and mom, and I want him to see how much of what I do with my kids is because of how great a dad he was to me. I want to be able to thank him for what an amazing parent he was, now that I have traveled that road myself.
I said several times during the week of his death that I would have rather had him for a dad for 21 years than any other dad for 60. And that is still true today. I am thankful God gave me him, even if that meant I had to lose him when I was just 21. And now that it's been ten years, he's been gone for a third of my life. I know that before I blink, I will have lived longer without his presence than I did with. But I also know that I will still be who I am largely because of his influence on me. And I will still talk about him with my kids and then lord-willing, my grandkids. We will still sing along to his music. And I will still listen to his CD's just to hear his voice. I will still think of him as I strive to be like God and be so proud of the way he lived his life and the scores of people he impacted. And in every area of my life, there will still be traces of him. Because he was one of a kind. And while I am so achingly sad he is gone, I am a million times more grateful that God allowed me the blessing to be his daughter. I miss you, Dad.
Stephen Forrest Hatfield
December 2, 1942-January 6, 1998
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| | Posted 1/7/2009 11:32 AM - 100 Views - 8 eProps - 4 comments
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