Peace

I feel like I lost my dad twice. I lost him when my folks got divorced. Once he lost custody (after an emotional court battle) he just checked out. In essence he told my mom, "You want them so badly? You got em. I am done." And he checked out. From that point (when I was six) until I was about twenty six, my dad and I were pals. Don't get me wrong, it is great to have that dynamic with your father as long as he continues to be your dad.

After a really weird teenage period, I left to pursue education in college and go into the ministry. Dad never really understood why I did that and certainly did not approve of that choice. But by that time he had sort of lost all dad standing he might have had. But he was never proud of me for what I was doing. Even though he went to church and taught the occasional Sunday School lesson, he missed a lot of what church really is. And he eventually told people I was a bouncer at a strip club when they asked what I was doing out of college. I know they all knew that was a joke. But deep down, that joke came from a place of disapproval and shame and embarrassment. I am not sure if it was how he felt about himself or me or God or what. I didn't really care at the time.

Then when I was about 26, we went to Denver together to visit my grandma, his mom, one last time. We had a long drive together and we got to really talk some things out. Basically I figured out that my dad was really a screwed up guy from way back. It helped me gain some perspective on who he was and what he had become. It certainly didn't excuse him for what he did. But it did give me some new perspective. I came to a point where I forgave him. And he understood me. And then we started having weekly grown-up, mature, father and son talks. I would ask his advice. He would ask mine. I got to enjoy a relationship with my dad for a short period of time that even both of my brothers missed out on.

After a few years of building a relationship, he died suddenly of a massive heart attack while driving. My dad smoked unfiltered cigarettes for over forty years. He was a heavy drinker for the last fifteen or so. And the Smith men are not known as being the healthiest of folks. My grandpa Smitty died in his 50's of kidney failure well before any of his grandsons were born. This is one of the reasons that I am dead set on losing weight. My clock is ticking. I want to squeeze all I can out of life. I am 32 and single. If I get married and start a family, I want more than ten or fifteen or twenty years with them. I want to grow old with my wife. I want to see my grandchildren born. I want to meet my youngest child's wife when he gets married. To do that, I need to get healthy.

I am feeling somewhat thoughtful tonight. A friend from a previous church passed away in his late forties over the weekend. It makes me pause. He was healthy, at least he always seemed that way to me. And he died of a massive heart attack. So, now I am forcing myself to drop another 100 or so pounds, to get down to a weight that will help me prolong my life.

For those of you who pray, lift one or two up for Paula and Josh who lost Ed, their father and husband. For those who are more comfortable lifting a glass (I have all types who read this, regardless of the lack of comments...jerks), lift one for Ed. And lift a diet soda for Todd L. Smith, my friend and yes, my dad too.