Ode to My Father

Life comes when it’s ready.

We expect it.

We know it’s the season.

But no one can actually predict the exact birth moment.

 

Death is the same way,

There are of course those deaths that come unexpectedly,

Suddenly,

Without warning.

 

But there are also deaths that come in a season,

When we can’t predict the exact moment, 

But we can discern that it’s close.

We feel the contractions getting closer,

And it hurts,

Because we know 

When the timing is right,

Sorrow awaits us as the breath of life is taken for the last time.

 

And you wonder,

All of this labor,

All of this pain,

What’s it for?

It mirrors the pain of birth and the labor it takes to bring a life forth,

But this life 

Is being taken,

 

Sometimes one piece at a time:

A memory

A limb

Sight, Sound, Speech

A kidney

Until finally,

The heart

And it ends.

The conception of life stopped with a final drum beat.

 

These legs that used to carry you across the sand.

These feet that use to stomp up stairs in cowboy boots.

These toes that lifted you up on the court.

These arches that stretched on the field.

These ankles that stood strong after swimming for miles,

Now they can’t even walk inches.

 

These hands that carried a big stick

To beat down the giants.

You were named David,

And you more than lived up to that name.

David slew giants with a rock and a sling

But you brought them down 

With a stick,

That beat rocks.

Symbolic of the struggle you fought 

EVERY DAY.

 

You faced the giants daily

In an ongoing battle,

So that I didn’t have to.

You beat them back

One by one.

Protecting those you loved,

And those you had never met.

It didn’t matter to you.

You fought hard,

No matter whose life was at stake.

 

I know you asked,

“Was it worth it?”

Was it worth all of the pain,

The energy,

The suffering,

The early mornings 

And dark nights

All alone?

 

Was it worth it?

 

Is the training still worth it when you lose the game?

Are the injuries still worth it when you finish last?

Was it a waste of time spending those hours planning your offense?

Only to end up knocked down,

Beaten,

Barely able to defend yourself.

At the end

When you stop training,

Stop fighting,

Stop winning.

 

What was it all for?

 

Me.

And Mom.

And your sons.

And your grandkids.

And your descendants…

 

And the list goes on…

The other players,

Watching from the sidelines,

Studying your moves,

Waiting to join you on that field.

 

There were even some fans,

And children of those fans

Who watched from the stands,

Some of them cheered.

Some of them jeered.

And some of them, pretended not to notice.

But they ALL saw

And they ALL learned

And now, when they get in the game, 

They know what to do.

They are more than inspired,

They are equipped

To WIN

BUT also 

To LOSE

 

Winning is easy

You immediately reap the rewards of all the blood, sweat, and tears.

 

But losing, that’s when you know 

What you’re made of.

Or more importantly, 

What you’re NOT made of.

 

You realize you DON’T have what it takes.

You NEVER had what it took.

You were NEVER good enough,

Strong enough,

Fast enough.

 

It humbles you

And puts you face to face with the fact

That without the Creator

It is ALL 

For NOTHING

It is NOT

Worth it.

 

But as you now stand face to face with the Creator,

And you look down on the ripple effect 

Your life had on His creation.

You know, as I suspect you always knew,

It wasn’t about your name, 

Your glory,

Your success.

Your life was spent fighting giants,

Protecting the weak,

And leading generations into the promise of victory 

Forever.

 

Was it worth it?

 

 

The beach where my father prayed.

by Lena Paulauskas

photo credit:

Mary Jo Pierce (Dad)

Lena Paulauskas (beach)