Today would have been my Dad’s birthday. I’ve written about him countless times; I’m sure some of you are tired of reading about him. But as I sit here now, listening to the tree frogs and the crickets chirp their songs, as I felt the hot sun glaring down upon the wilting grass earlier today and enjoyed the summer breeze blowing my hair, I can’t help myself. I have to go back. I went back when we were all together on summer days. The late, late breakfasts, the kid-size swimming pools he used to set up for me in the back yard, the car rides with the windows down, the long walks in the evening, and the sparklers on his birthday cake. Such precious memories! I’m so thankful for each and every one of them.
The Lord took my Dad seven years ago this month, but He graciously left behind my memories. Just as the sweet fragrance of perfume lingers after the one who wears it has left the room, so do my thoughts of Dad. They linger on, sweet and pure. The Lord left my memories of Dad so that I can go back, anytime. I can be there, at his side, looking on as he turns a screwdriver, as he laughs at my joke, as shares the story of how he met my mom. I can bring it all back, just like I were still there. I can make it just as real, and just as blessed, as it ever was.