Note: this is the third in 3 posts I wrote and never published while I work through a midlife meltdown that persists even as I tap this not on my phone.  This one was going to publish on Father's Day but I refrained, as I did the other two. Today, I am compelled to publish them all.

Three hundred, eight-eight.

That is the numbered days for my dad when he was the age I am today. Barely a sniff past a single year.

He's a grandfather you know only through stories you're told. A man whose life never grew old.

Three. Eight. Eight. And daily, it whittles. On Father's Day 2027, there'll be but just 20 or so days left to go.

Who's to say I will even see that day?

His life was lived fast, recklessly, and, I suspect, with pain and loneliness. Mine played out with more caution, intention, and desire.

Yet the number I share is a brutal reminder that no breath is assured. So, my girls, please know that, from the moment you took in your first, my every breath and beat of my heart has been aimed to ensure you'd have many, and that you'd be happy, healthy, and enjoy everything I longed for in a dad!

The Shadows of What Was

He was gone before he could hear the news of your coming, witness your first steps. He missed out on baby teeth, the giddy squeals of your laughter, every first day of school. His empty eyes never graced even one picture.

He missed out on knowing how smart, how kind, and how incredible you three are. Dad never got to see you in your first cars, dancing or at play. No Halloween costumes or opening presents on Christmas morning while sugared up on monkey bread.

My dad didn't see your works of art. The masterpieces I proudly hang on the wall, the banners and crafts you've made, and also the pottery, jewelry or anything else creative and artsy.

He missed the first hits, inbound kicks, and grocery store fits. He never saw the cardboard box robots, or the Easter baskets and teaching kids to fish on Duesey Pond. He never fretted over sleepovers, go-away camps or times you were declared champs.

My dad didn't get to make you mad, like when cuts weren't done straight, or if he'd picked the wrong color for whatever, got the size wrong, misunderstood your words and pointed out you blew your curfews.

He didn't feel pain when you outgrew bedtime stories or no longer wanted to be walked into class. He never got to embarrass you by acting like an ass. He never cried for your broken heart or snuck a special treat into the cart. 

Today, my dad exists as a memory. His body residing under a rock, alongside many of the fathers and mothers of our line.  A reminder that there are limits to our time.

Giving a Fork About the Future

3. 8. 8.

As for me,
It may be more under the sun.
Or maybe God soon wants me done.

This unfair fork in my path with no choice of direction has consumed me all your lives, weighing down my every step. You three are my life's dream made true. I've lived and risked for you. I've sought to be of virtue. To be in those moments where my dad missed out, both big and small. I have let go of many things, even most other dreams.

Because...
You. You. And You.

YOU are my greatest wish. And today, I offer my wish FOR you.

Wishes Against and Into the Wind

I wish for you to always dream, and always live in quest of your dreams. My wish is that, as you pursue, you'll live a life that listens up. 

My wish for you, is that selfless LOVE will take root, and as you come into your own, you'll use your wings to carry you into lives that are filled with HUMILITY, with PASSION, and with WISDOM.

None of those things are inborn as fulfilled and complete. Instead, they'll take a lifetime to achieve. Step-by-step, they develop until we reach OUR very real "three, eighty-eights"--when we are called home as our maker's masterpieces.

Strive to have the understanding that no one person is ever the greatest in the room, but that we grow through and WITH the rooms we're blessed to be in. And those rooms NEED you too! Listen well. Observe. Speak truth, and always move in LOVE--especially for one another.

With those moves, give your all, for as you do, you serve a greater role. Not to impress or earn, but because the fire in your heart compels it. Settling for mediocrity is a curse. Pursue your purpose with hunger, with zeal, and with thirst. You'll simply feel your fill when you do.

Artifacts of the Great Adventure

Along the way, your paths and even the smallest moments will become artifacts. Totems of what has happened. Of victories, tragedies and everything in between. Through it all, discern what they mean, so you may always calibrate with the wind that accompanies your wings.

Moments of joy. Moments of grief. Trying times and seasons of breeze. Wonder and might. Darkness and light. The unknown and everything so familiar it seems sown into your soul.

This all is the summation of my life. And a pouring of my heart and soul, and all that I am for you. You are why I am here. You are why I form my tears. Both for what was and for my hope of your coming years. I had to share before I am done. Whether three eighty eight... or less than one.

Love. Cultivate Humility. Fuel Your Passions.  Fill With Wisdom.

Apply this all fully as you are pursuing the great adventure that is your lives!