There’s an African proverb that says when an old man dies, a library burns down. My library burned down 30 days ago.

It’s been 30 days today since you left us for Heaven. I miss you. I miss the routine of calling you. I miss your calls, always saying “Myron, it’s dad,” even after decades of telling you that the Caller ID let me know it was you. I miss telling you about how Megan and the kids are doing. How Kensley is progressing in her learning and gifts awarded her through dyslexia. I miss asking you about scripture, about theology, about life, about fatherhood, about leading, about serving, about the innumerable things that only a man of 90 years could have experienced and understand. I miss you.

“But as for you, teach what accords with sound doctrine.  Older men are to be sober-minded, dignified, self-controlled, sound in faith, in love, and in steadfastness.” Titus 2:1-2 ESV

Dad, the recurring image of your strong hands has come to mind these days you’ve been gone. I remember as a little boy when in situations of uncertainty, in moments of fear, in unfamiliar environments, when walking into school, the Dr., meeting new people…in any situation, your hands were always strong, always steadfast, too large for a little boy to hold so you offered your two fingers that were the right size for little hands to firmly grip and feel safe and secure. Your hands guided me. Your hands disciplined me. Your hands held me. Your hands fed me, clothed me, tucked me into bed. Your hands stabilized life for me. Your two fingers provided me the grip that I needed to hold onto and now the memory sustains me in this time of remembering.

“I will be your God throughout your lifetime – until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you.” Isaiah 46:4 NLT

Dad, all is good here. You taught and prepared us well. Your daughters watch over their families with grace, beauty and love like mom did. Megan is the fierce protector of me and our family that you loved so much. Your grandchildren are flourishing in their marriages, lives, careers, school and expectation. Your great-granddaughters are truly great and a joy to everyone. There is laughter in the stories you told, the adventures you led, the things fixed with a rock and a knife (as only a Kentucky boy can do – according to you). So many things I would love to tell you but will leave with this. Your legacy is secure and your family knows the Creator of all things. You led us well and you left us well prepared with understanding, priority and peace that surpasses all understanding.

“Even youths shall faint and be weary,
    and young men shall fall exhausted;
but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
    they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
    they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:30-31 ESV

I miss you. I miss those two fingers. I miss your holding my two fingers as I helped you move across the room, climb into your truck, ascend stairs. I miss being the stability and security to you that God allowed me with in your last days. You were and are a good father and I am eternally grateful for the always present two fingers. I am grateful that God allowed you to live long enough to see your son’s hair turn gray (and gone).

I love you. I love the knowledge of where you are. I love that I will see you again someday. I miss you.