When we were small children, my parents would pack us all in the van early on summer mornings and we'd drive to the track. There, we five kids would run, play, pick dandelions, whatever. And my parents would jog. My dad would jog miles and miles. And my mom would run too. However, usually one of us would walk past her, while she jogged. Then we'd all tromp to the park pavilion and devour a dozen donuts and milk.
Of course my parents wanted to exercise and were teaching us the importance of exercise and staying fit, but they were also creating some of my fondest memories.
Years later, after I grew up, moved away, and started a family of my own, I continued to come home every summer, usually for about a month. We'd practically move into my parents' house. In the mornings, my dad would knock on my door at six a.m., and we'd put on our running shoes and head to the track. Here we'd run. Together. Sometimes mom would walk my girls in the stroller while we ran. Sometimes I'd beg to get donuts, trying to re-create that memory from so many years before. But mostly I enjoyed getting to spend that time with my dad. Doing something that I knew he loved. That I learned to love because of him.
My father always encouraged us to get out there and do something. When I look back on photos from my school days, pictures of me doing long jump or running would many times capture my father in the background, watching. He was always at those track meets or basketball games. He'd stop working, or whatever he was doing, and he'd be there. To support us, his children. To make us his priority. He always supported us, and we always knew we were loved.
My father loved his grandchildren with the same dedication. Several years ago, when my daughter was in the hospital in very serious condition, my father pled with God to take his life instead of hers. He offered himself up to save his granddaughter's life. This wasn't the first time he'd been willing to sacrifice himself for one of them. He was devoted to all his grandchildren and would have done anything for them. The grandchildren have also lost someone very important this week. I can only hope they remember him for the devoted grandpa that he was.
When I think about where he is right now, I picture him in a heaven where he's surrounded by all the things that he loved. I can picture him running strong confident steps. Running marathons each morning. Maybe stopping for donuts afterward. Maybe teaching my daughter who is up there with him to love running. And just maybe, they're up there running together.
