Ohio State played their first football game of the season today. Tomorrow the NFL season starts. In the grand scheme of things, these are two of the most insignificant events you could think of, yet they grab at me and tug at my heart in ways I never dreamed possible. This is the time of year my dad loved the most. And this is the time of year we had the most fun. I miss you so much, Dad, especially this time of year. I had arranged to go to an Ohio State reunion 2 years ago, to meet with old friends, march in the marching band one more time, and see a great football game. I so rarely get back to my alma mater, and I really looked forward to it. The day before I was to go, I was at my parents' house. As I sat in bed one night, a thought penetrated my brain and refused to leave: "Don't go to the game. Stay here and watch it on TV with your Dad." It seemed ridiculous--I watched a lot of games on TV with my Dad, but this time was a chance to go and be part of the action! But the thought wouldn't leave, and eventually I realized I had to do what it said. So I stayed home and watched the game on TV with my Dad. We watched football all day long. It was one of the best days of my life. My dad died two months later. That day watching football was the last full day we ever spent together. He had a heart attack during bypass surgery and never woke up. I am so thankful for the inner prompting that convinced me to stay home for something as simple as watching TV with my father. It's one of the things I hold on to that proves to me there is a God, and He has everything under control. He knows what He's doing. I miss you so much Dad. Ohio State won today. It was an ugly, mistake-ridden game, but they won. I'm happy, but every happy moment these days is dimmed ever so slightly by the knowledge that I can't share that happiness with you. David still prays for you at night, and we still talk about you. But I wouldn't for a moment steal you away from the joy you're experiencing now. Actually, I take that back. Just one moment, Dad, to say goodbye like we never did. To say goodbye, and chat a little football. One day we will. Until then...know that I miss you, and enjoy the 50-yard line seats. Jack

I Miss My Dad

Ohio State played their first football game of the season today. Tomorrow the NFL season starts. In the grand scheme of things, these are two of the most insignificant events you could think of, yet they grab at me and tug at my heart in ways I never dreamed possible. This is the time of year my dad loved the most. And this is the time of year we had the most fun. I miss you so much, Dad, especially this time of year.
I had arranged to go to an Ohio State reunion 2 years ago, to meet with old friends, march in the marching band one more time, and see a great football game. I so rarely get back to my alma mater, and I really looked forward to it. The day before I was to go, I was at my parents' house. As I sat in bed one night, a thought penetrated my brain and refused to leave: "Don't go to the game. Stay here and watch it on TV with your Dad." It seemed ridiculous--I watched a lot of games on TV with my Dad, but this time was a chance to go and be part of the action! But the thought wouldn't leave, and eventually I realized I had to do what it said. So I stayed home and watched the game on TV with my Dad. We watched football all day long. It was one of the best days of my life.
My dad died two months later. That day watching football was the last full day we ever spent together. He had a heart attack during bypass surgery and never woke up. I am so thankful for the inner prompting that convinced me to stay home for something as simple as watching TV with my father. It's one of the things I hold on to that proves to me there is a God, and He has everything under control. He knows what He's doing.
I miss you so much Dad. Ohio State won today. It was an ugly, mistake-ridden game, but they won. I'm happy, but every happy moment these days is dimmed ever so slightly by the knowledge that I can't share that happiness with you. David still prays for you at night, and we still talk about you. But I wouldn't for a moment steal you away from the joy you're experiencing now. Actually, I take that back. Just one moment, Dad, to say goodbye like we never did. To say goodbye, and chat a little football. One day we will. Until then...know that I miss you, and enjoy the 50-yard line seats.
Jack

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