By JANET HART LEONARD
From the Heart
Dear Dad,
While I know I can’t actually send this, as heaven has no email address, it just feels good to have a talk with you … the only way I know how … in a letter.
I sure miss you. I miss your wisdom. I miss our conversations. I miss your reassuring voice that reminded me that you were proud of me.
Fifteen years ago, I bought what would come to be my last Father’s Day Card. A few days later on the 28th of June, I said my last “see you later.”
I held your hand, in that ICU hospital room, as I told you it was okay to fall into the arms of Jesus. My heart broke. You were always and will forever be … my hero.
“I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith.” The minister read from II Timothy 4:7 at the celebration of your life. You, truly, were a man of God, accepting Jesus as your Lord and Savior when you were in your fifties. Mom’s prayers were finally answered.
Funny the things that trigger my memories of you. Smells. Sights. Sounds.
Someone asked me this week what smell reminds me the most of my childhood. I answered, the scent of rubber. It permeated your clothes. I swear it still smelled hot. I knew it was a hard job, yet you never complained. Firestone Tire and Rubber Products provided for many a family here in Noblesville. Perhaps we kids may have smelled a bit like hot rubber, too.
Pocket protectors with pens tucked in them. Your white shirts always had one. Why did they have you wear white shirts in a tire and rubber factory?
Every so often I walk by an older gentleman and get a hint of Old Spice Cologne. The scent brings tears to my eyes. I guess it’s the spices in the cologne.
Even now, I can walk into your garage and see the tools that were last held in your hands as you repaired many an antique clock. I have two of them in my house. The swinging of the pendulum reminds me just how precious is time with those we love.
I still have the cigar box that holds the nails you said I would need. You made sure I had tools and knew how to use them. I may have been your daughter, but you equipped me with what a son would have needed to know and use.
And you know what else, Dad?
You always told me I was smart. Yes, even when I made not-so-smart decisions.
You believed in me and you told me so. I can hear your voice telling me that I could do anything I set my mind to do (even selling cars and trucks when I was 48 years old).
I never felt “less than” in our home when I was growing up. When I felt like I failed you, you told me to get back up and try again … and sometimes, again. You told me there were different roads to success. I just had to find mine. Let’s just say mine had more than a few detours.
You voice was kind. Your voice reassured me that I was loved. I felt cherished as your daughter.
Time has not quieted the sound of your voice that I still hear in my head. I think it will always be there. I treasure those echos.
Time may have stopped on many of your antique clocks that day, 15 years ago, but my love for you and gratitude to God for blessing me with such a kind, loving and true man of integrity, who I called Dad, will go on until I, too, fall into the arms of Jesus. I know you and Mom will be waiting for me in heaven.
Oh yes, you would love my husband, Chuck. I can just imagine the conversations you would have had while sitting on our back porch drinking coffee. Mom said he was the answer to her prayers. I think he would have been the answer to yours as well.
And Dad, you have a great-great-grandson, Tiberius James, named after you. Our conversations, as he gets older, will include stories about his Pop Pop.
You left a wonderful legacy and you left a daughter who will always cherish being called … Jim Hart’s daughter.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. You are forever loved.
Janet (aka Bug)