Out of nowhere, I miss my daddy tonight. Almost 50 years old and I miss my daddy. I miss his smile. I miss his laughter. I miss his terrible puns. I miss his quiet strength.
Last night, I heard a teenager sob, "I miss my Daddy." Even though she lost her father to divorce and not death, I understand the depth of her cry. I see Emerson and Reese, run to their daddy and throw their arms around his legs or stand with him in worship and I miss my my poppy.
Even though he's healed from Parkinson's. Even though he's with Jesus and a better man than he ever was here with me, I miss him. Even though Jesus is supposed to be my anchor, I miss my Daddy as the anchor for my life. Even though Jesus is supposed to be my strong tower, I miss the safety and unconditional love of my earthly father.
He's been gone almost 6 months to the day and the grief tonight is as fresh as it was then. I understand the Jewish custom of rending their garments and throwing ashes on their heads and keening with grief. The grief is so powerful that it demands physical expression. Out of nowhere, I miss my Daddy tonight.
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