You know the song - Contemporary Christian Music veteran Bob Carlisle recorded it, and it became a huge crossover hit. It's been played to death, especially at weddings and receptions. I, like many others, have become rather sick of it, so when it came on the Sirius satellite radio feed I was listening to today, I barely listened. I thought I was immune to its tear-jerking properties.
Until that last verse... you know the one... the daddy and his grown daughter at her wedding. Walk me down the aisle, Daddy... Daddy, don't cry... and the tears just welled up. It happened again just typing those words. You see, as I've hinted at before, my dad didn't get to walk me down the aisle at my wedding.
It was 6 weeks before my wedding day and I was in the throes of final preparations when my mom called me at work with the news that my dad had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. At first they thought it was treatable. He had surgery a week later - his instruction to the doctors was to make sure he would still be able to walk me down the aisle. That was everyone's goal. I was Daddy's little girl, and no way was he going to miss that big event. He'd been looking forward to walking me down the aisle ever since I was old enough to think about getting married - of course, he always said he wasn't going to let me go... His hair was shorn for the surgery, so one of the women at their church presented him with a black baseball cap with white stitching to wear to the wedding, declaring him to be "Father of the Bride". They got as much of the tumor as they could without affecting his ability to walk.
Two weeks before the wedding, my good friend Paul was getting married about 30 miles away from my parents' house, and Hubby and I made a point of being there. It was a short, whirlwind trip, but we were very glad we made it... We went with Dad to one of his radiology appointments, and made a trip out to the Carterville Dairy Queen (the best in the area, everyone says so) for chicken strips and ice cream. We went to church with him and heard him sing "Blessed Assurance" to start the service. I held him tight during a small seizure. I kissed him on the cheek through the van window at the airport and told him I'd see him in a little more than a week. But I was wrong.
Two days before he and Mom were due to fly out for the pre-wedding festivities, he woke up in the morning and couldn't move. The tumor was growing quickly and the swelling in his brain had incapacitated him. He was taken to the hospital for the last time. My mom was devastated. Dad's last instruction to her was to go to the wedding without him. Her pastor offered to accompany her. Members of their church signed up for shifts to sit with him at the hospital. They considered it an honor.
My best friend (and future sister-in-law) spent the week of the wedding with me. The morning of the wedding, I woke up early - and here I start bawling again - and my first thought was "It's my wedding day, Daddy. I wish you were here." I wept silently for several minutes, and then I heard his voice in my head, as clearly as if he was there: "Now dry your eyes, sweetheart. You don't want your pretty blue eyes to be all red in your wedding pictures." Cherry was awake by that time, and she got me a cool washcloth to put across my eyes.
And we went on with the day. My grandfather walked me down the aisle. The wedding was everything I had hoped, with that one exception. The morning after, I was up early taking a shower, getting ready to leave for our honeymoon, when my mom called to inform us that Dad had passed away overnight.
That next week was a blur - Hubby's mom and my best friend made all the arrangements for us so that the day after we returned from our honeymoon we could fly back for Dad's funeral. Their church donated the money for the plane tickets, because we could not afford the cost with less than a week's notice. Everyone at the funeral knew we'd just been married, and it was the strangest thing standing there having people give us congratulations and condolences in the same breath.
Most days I feel like I've gotten past the grief. But today, with "Butterfly Kisses" fresh in my mind, I can't help but cry as I take this walk down memory lane. There's one more memory that came to mind today... Nineteen years ago today, my daddy presented me with a ring. A real gold ring, with a real (if tiny) diamond chip. My first diamond ring, for Valentine's Day, from the first man in my heart. I wish I could find that ring - I'd wear it today just for him.
Gosh, I miss you, Daddy.
Thanks for sharing such a beautiful post.
Posted by: Rodney Olsen | February 14, 2005 at 03:59 PM
Gosh! I miss him too - more than you'll ever imagine! But, I think he's up there encouraging us on! I still wear his ring. What a rock he was, and so wise
We were so blessed that God put him in our lives! What a Dad he was. That morning in the hospital with Pastor John on one side and Pastor Phil on the other; he knew that he was not going to that wedding! As disappointed as he was - he thought only of me being there. He had to be scared, but he was willing for me to leave him to be with you. Guys like him are few and far between! Unselfish to the core! I so much wish he could have gone home with his family around him.
Posted by: Mom | February 15, 2005 at 08:19 AM
No fair sneaking in a sad post on me! I'm just glad nobody's down here right now.
My dad died three months before my daughter (his first grandchild) was born. My wife sang at the funeral, very pregnant. I always thought he'd been ripped off, because he'd done so much to help us get ready - he even bought the crib.
Memories are good things, though. And I figure he's up there making fun of me still (he always was good at that!). Thanks for this post -- I'm sure it was tough to write.
And a warning -- Bob Carlisle has a bunch of REALLY sad songs, some worse than Butterfly Kisses. His dad died while he was a member of Allies, and he wrote several songs about his grief -- I read one at my Dad's funeral -- used to love that song, now I bawl every time I hear it.
Posted by: Warren | February 15, 2005 at 09:33 PM
(throwing away soaked kleenex)
What a week we had, huh? I still tear up every time I play Blessed Assurance (which I got to do Saturday afternoon, surprisingly enough).
I could go on at great length about our father, and what a great and godly man he was. I just hope there's a piano player in heaven that can get the rhythm right.
bb
Posted by: Big Brother | February 18, 2005 at 08:01 AM