[loss]

How do you miss someone that you never knew?

How do you mourn what is missing, when it was never had, but the loss is deeply felt none-the-less?

I've debated writing this for a while, because honestly, I've wondered if its okay for me to - whether it's my story enough, or just me relating other people's memories.  And that's never mine to do.  But the sense of absence, of missing, is mine.  And the reasons for that sense of loss are in the details.  So I'm cautiously writing it.  Grace, please, friends.

Last week, we marked the five year anniversary of Dad D's death (my husband's father). I never had the privilege of meeting him - Jon and I met about 5 months later - and I will never get the opportunity to know him, this side of heaven.  And yet, I miss him deeply.  Grieve his absence.  Feel the loss.  And am daily grateful for his character, his influence, and his life.

He's the one that we named our son after - his first name is S's middle name.   Because when we thought about what we would pray for S – the type of man that we prayed that he would be – we could think of no higher honor for him than to pray that S's character would mirror Dad's – that S's love of God and desire for God would mirror Dad's – that S's love of family, and care for his wife and children would mirror Dad's – that S's work ethic, intellect, and leadership, his humility and gentleness, his strength, and his legacy, would mirror Dad's. Dad was not perfect, and neither will S be perfect – but he daily strove to honor the Lord and care well for others around him in every aspect of his life - and that's what we pray for S as well.

I never met him, but I know his legacy.  And I am impacted by his testimony of life.

He was the man who gave great hugs.  Whose wife knew that she was treasured and deeply loved.  Whose sons - my husband included - grew to be strong men of character, who strive to love their wives and their kids with gentleness and strength, to be good friends, and to do their best in the work that they have been given.  The man whose faith was strong and steady, even through years of cancer, pain, remission, and resurgence of the disease.  Whose faith, in the midst of cancer, included Psalm 27:13-14

I remain confident of this:

I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

Wait for the Lord; 

Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. 

Whose faith has given my husband certainty, that God is still good, even when the unthinkable happens - even when we don't understand, that His goodness does not change.  Whose friends and students to this day, still tell stories about being under his leadership, and rave about his wisdom and ability to impart knowledge.  The man whose friends knew that they were loved, and still, five years later, miss his friendship - and whose sons never doubted their father's love for them, even when they had to be punished or reprimanded.  The father and husband whose love gave my husband a model for fatherhood and husband-hood, with gentleness, strength, and compassion - of which my son and I are daily recipients.   The man that my husband still wishes was here, when he has a question about fixing the brakes or stock options, or when he needs to talk through something hard.  His go-to-guy.  This is what I know, of the man that I never knew. And it is a gift to me, every day.

And I miss him terribly, even though I never met him.  I miss his presence, his balance in our family.  I miss having a party of four, when mom comes to visit - the two and twos, and four all-together.  I miss having to roll my eyes at Jon, when he and his dad stay up way too late playing video games. I miss seeing mom look at dad and roll her eyes too.  I miss introducing S to his grandfather.  I miss the conversations we might have had, about boost-phase interception of ICBMs and my paltry attempts to code in matlab what he worked on in real life.  I miss actually getting to know him, in real life, not just know him through others' stories.  And I miss having my own stories.

It's strange, weird even, to feel grief for what you never had.  To miss a person that you never knew.  But I do.

I don't have a conclusion.  I don't have a pithy takeaway.  All I know is that I am grateful for him, even though he was never in my life.  And I am grateful for all the ways that he will always be in my life.

And, Dad, I'm really looking forward to finally sitting down with you in heaven, when that day comes.