Honoring the Honorable

There's a special place reserved for my Dad in my heart. I started calling him "Pops" when I was about 15 because I thought it absolutely hysterical. He would look at me, obviously wondering if I was really his child, and smile. He would always look at me and smile. He still does. It's a, "You know you're pretty special to me, right?" kinda smile.

I have a friend who lost her father in high school. I cannot imagine what that must feel like. I know that everything she did, she did to honor him. She once told me, when I was ignorantly and rudely complaining to her about my dad (not that I would ever do that, Pops. I only ever say nice things about you!),

"Losing a father is like losing a blank check. You'll never understand the full amount of what you've lost. You'll always wonder what it could have amounted to. Most of the time a blank check might get you hundreds of dollars, but every once in awhile, a blank check is worth millions. But when you're father is alive, you determine the worth of the check. You, and you alone, get to write in the value."

Pops would let me tag along with him as he visited other wards in our stake when I was in high school. He was in the Stake Presidency and he always had places to visit, people to interview. I was obviously going to see the Young Men in other wards and my dad knew it, but still, he amused me and let me pretend I was doing it to have some "Daddy-Daughter" time.

I would sleep the whole way there (sometimes close to 2 hours), but in my defense-- he did have meetings starting at 7, which mean we would have to leave by 5. OK-- not such a great defense after all. It was the rides home that meant the most. Fully awake (or as awake as I was going to get) at this point, Pops and I discussed everything. Which cute boys I talked to that day. Theology. Literature. Poetry. Politics. Cars. Cooking. NPR vs. Conservative Talk Radio. How I could be a better daughter to my mother (another post for another day). We talked about disappointments and successes. We talked about fears and hopes. We talked about the crazy Religious Programming on the Radio (You can be Saved for a donation of $49.99!) and how our lives are just not that simple. But mostly we just talked. We made plans for camping trips that we never actually went on, we discussed careers we'd never actually have. We created memories I'll never, ever forget.

Then I left for college, got married and began my own family. I watched my father, my beloved Pops, go through one of the hardest times of his life. Years of difficult choices, health problems, moves and changes in the family all came down on Pops, all at once. Hardship after hardship fell upon him and I wondered if I would ever have the relationship with him that I developed in those car rides again. Had that all been the ease of childhood? The ignorance of the ignorant? We didn't talk as much-- he was busy, I was busy, etc. etc. etc.

On Friday I went to the Washington DC LDS Temple to attend my cousins wedding. My Bala watched as Pops took Caleb and they laughed and played. With tears in her eyes, she said, "You guys, you know, you're kids have one great grandfather. You are so lucky. He's going to be the best grandfather around."

Suddenly, all the worry about having that connection with him vanished. I don't even really remember why I had it. He looked back at me and I knew, I was pretty special to him. He told me. In his smile.