PROMISES KEPT
My father was not a sentimental man.
I don't remember him ever ohhing or ahhing over
something I made
as a
child. Don't get me wrong, I knew that my Dad loved
me, but getting
all
mushy-eyed was not his thing. I learned that he
showed me he loved me
in
other ways.
There was one particular moment when this became
real to me.....
I always believed that my parents had a good
marriage, but just
before
I, the youngest of four children, turned 16, my belief
was sorely
tested.
My father who used to share in the chores around
the house,
gradually
started becoming despondent. From the time he came
home from his job
at
the factory, to the time he went to bed, he hardly
spoke a word to my
Mom
or us kids. The strain on my Mom and Dad's
relationship was very
evident.
However, I was not prepared for the day that Mom sat
my siblings and me
down and told us that Dad had decided to leave.
All that I could think of was that I was going to
become a product
of
a divorced family. It was something I never thought
possible and it
grieved me greatly. I kept telling myself that it
wasn't going to
happen,
and I went totally numb when I knew my Dad was really
leaving. The
night
before he left I stayed up in my room for a long time.
I prayed and I
cried -- and I wrote a long letter to my Dad. I told
him how much I
loved
him and how much I would miss him. I told him that I
was praying for
him
and wanted him to know that, no matter what, Jesus and
I loved him. I
told
him that I would always and forever be his Krissie....
his Noodles.
As I folded my note I stuck in a picture of me
with a saying I had
always heard. "Anyone can be a father but it takes
someone special to
be
called a Daddy."
Early, the next morning as my Dad left our house,
I snuck out to
the
car and slipped my letter into one of his bags.
Two weeks went by with hardly a word from my
father.
Then, one afternoon, I came home from school to
find my Mom
sitting at
the dining room table waiting to talk to me. I could
see in her eyes
that
she had been crying. She told me that Dad had been
there and that they
had
had a very long talk. They decided that there were
things that the
both of
them could, and would change -- and that their
marriage was worth
saving.
Mom then turned her focus to my eyes. "Kristi,
Dad told me that
you
wrote him a letter. Can I ask what you wrote to him?"
I found it hard to share with my Mom what I wrote
from my heart to
my
Dad. I mumbled a few words and shrugged. My mom
replied, "Well, Dad
said
that when he read your letter, it made him cry. It
meant a lot to him
and
I have hardly ever seen your Dad cry. After he read
your letter, he
called
to ask if he could come over to talk. Whatever you
said really made a
difference to your Dad."
A few days later, my Dad was back. This time to
stay. We never
talked about the letter, my Dad and I. I guess I
always figured that
it
was something that was a secret between us.
My parents went on to be married a total of 36
years before my
Dad's
early death, at the age of 53, cut short their lives
together. In the
last
16 years of my parents' marriage, I and all those who
knew my Mom and
Dad,
witnessed one of the truly "great" marriages. Their
love grew stronger
every day and my heart swelled with pride as I saw
them grow closer
together.
When Mom and Dad received the news from the
doctor that his heart
was
deteriorating rapidly, they took it hand in hand, side
by side, all the
way.
After Dad's death we had the most unpleasant task
of going through
his
things. I have never liked this task and opted to run
errands so I did
not
have to be there while most of the things were divided
and boxed up.
When
I got back from my errands, my brother said, "Kristi,
Mom said to give
this
to you. She said you would know what it meant."
As I looked down into his outstretched hand it
was then that I
knew
the impact of my letter that day so long ago. In my
brother's hand was
my
picture that I gave my Dad that day. My unsentimental
Dad, who never
let
his emotions get the best of him. My Dad, who almost
never outwardly
showed his love for me, had kept the one thing that
meant so much to
him
and me.
I sat down and the tears began to flow. Tears
that I thought had
dried up from the grief of his death, but that had now
found new life
as I
realized what I meant to him. Mom told me that Dad
kept both the
picture
and that letter his whole life.
I have a box in my home that I call the "Dad"
box. In it are so
many
things that remind me of my Dad. I pull that picture
out every once in
a
while and remember. I remember a promise that was
made many years ago
between a young man and his bride on their wedding
day. And I remember
the
unspoken promise that was made between a father and
his daughter...
A promise kept.
-- Kristi Powers