Several years ago I got a call from my mom informing me my step-father, Big Jim, was in the hospital and was not expected to live. Doctors had thought he had lung cancer. They treated him accordingly but then discovered he had been misdiagnosed. The inappropriate cancer treatments had actually destroyed his lungs.She said, “Son, if you want to talk to your dad you better call him soon because he is not long for this world.” He was in a hospital just a short distance from my home south of Dallas. I called his wife to ask her if it would be alright for me and my wife to go visit him. She assured me we would be welcome and that he would love to see us.
In our 20 years of marriage up to 2003 my wife Lisa had never met Big Jim. Though she did feel as if she knew him from all the stories I told her about him. Neither of us knew what to expect or what we would say upon seeing him but we were both excited to see the man I deeply admired and had so influenced my life. We carried with us pictures of all six of our children (William, our seventh, had not yet been born).
Upon entering Big Jim’s hospital room I was stunned. The man who had always seemed so big too me was wasted away to what seemed like skin and bones. His face was pale but his eyes flashed with excitement when he saw us. I said a quick hello and then introduced Lisa to him. He cordially greeted her saying, “It is so good to meet you after all these years.” Then he sat up a little and a big smile raced across his face. “Did Allen ever tell you about the first fish he ever caught?” he prodded. To which she responded, “Yes he did.” “But did he tell you how big it was?” he continued. “Why, it must have been this big!” he exclaimed holding out his hands in true fisherman fashion to indicate a fish at least 2 ½ feet long.
I said, “Dad, it wasn’t that big.” He protested, “Oh, yes it was…if not bigger. You were too young to remember.” Then ignoring me he focused back to my wife spinning his yarn, “Why, that fish was so big and he was so little, I thought for sure Allen was going to be pulled into the water. And he reeled that whopper ashore all by himself…”
He continued his praise for my fishing prowess for several minutes until I interrupted him with something more impressive…I was armed with photos of my children. He delighted as I introduced each one to him via photographic images. I started with the oldest and went down to the youngest telling their ages, interests, and accomplishments. He gave the appropriate “ohhs and ahhs” of a grandfather until I got down to a picture of Abby…our youngest. His face lit up as I revealed the picture of a cute, freckled faced, red-headed, little girl. He said, “Is this your daughter?” “Yes” I replied. “My granddaughter?” He almost seemed confused. “Yes” I affirmed. “She looks so much like your sister, Stephanie. Look at all that red hair.” Abby had clearly garnered my dad’s favor without speaking a word. She did bear a striking resemblance to my little sister who is 14 years younger than me.
Each time we changed the subject dad would find a way to bring the conversation back to Abby’s red hair. I don’t know if he was really all that taken with Abby or just missing Stephanie that much. My heart tells me it was the latter.
Eventually dad began to show his frailty so we told him we needed to leave. Lisa told him goodbye and headed to the door and paused waiting for me. I came closer to him as he lay on his slightly elevated bed. “Can I give you a hug?” I asked. He was clearly pleased I cared for him after all these years. As I leaned over and hugged him he grabbed my bicep of my right arm and squeezed. “Why, boy, you have big muscles,” he exclaimed. I quickly replied, “Well, they should be big. You made me dig hundreds of post holes out on the farm growing up.” He let out a weak but heart-felt laugh as he held onto my arm.
It is funny how a boy can grow into a man, marry, have children of his own, but still desire the affection and approval of his own dad more than all the praise of all the other people in the world. A dad’s few words of admiration can replace the endless accolades of thousands. I truly realized at that moment how much I really missed my dad and just how powerful his influence had been in my life. I became aware in that instant the power of a dad’s approval.
Big Jim…Dad… held the arm he had admired a moment before and looked me in the eye. With a scratchy voice he said, “Son, I’m proud of you.” A tear coursed down his face. He was moved. So was I. I said, “Dad, I love you. I hope to see you again soon.” Knowing all the while his prognosis was grim and he might not even live through the night. He smiled and said, “I love you too.” I turned to the door as Lisa walked out ahead of me.
She met me at the elevator just down the hall from his room. She pushed the button and then turned to me with a big smile on her face as I approached her. “You got to hear what you have wanted to hear all these years, didn’t you?” she said. Playing ignorant, I questioned, “What do you mean?” “Your dad told you he was proud of you. Every boy…every man wants to hear those words from his dad,” she affirmed. She got it. She really understood the heart of a boy…the desire of a man. His words of affirmation had ignited a fire in me I had not felt for some time. I purposed in my heart to be careful to frequently tell all my children I was proud of them. And to this I have been true.
I expected to get a call within the next few days telling me my dad had passed away. Instead, I got a call from him telling me he had been released from the hospital and was back home in Whitney, Texas. He invited me to come visit him. He was feeling much stronger and we had a lot of catching up to do. I went to visit him a few days later. We each had a grand time learning what the other had been doing all those years.
I had become an elementary school principal. He had become a professional fishing guide down on the Gulf of Mexico. I told him tales of the classroom and he told me fish stories that he swore were all true…but then, don’t all fishermen pledge their stories are reputable?
After awhile he had to visit the men’s room. His wife, Christine, came over and set down. She asked me frankly, “Allen, why have you not been in contact with Jim all these years?” I was stunned by her question but pushed out my explanation. “I knew you had a teen aged son when Jim married you. Jim had been a really good dad to me when he was married to my mom. I didn’t want your son to be deprived of having Jim’s total attention by having me to compete with. And after awhile I was not sure I would be welcome.” Christine, kind and motherly, took me by the hand and said, “Oh, son, I wished I had known you felt that way. You would have been welcomed with open arms around here.” She continued, “Jim talked about you all the time. You do know he thought of you as his own son, don’t you?” As dad came back in the room she added, “Well, now you are back in his life. Make sure you and your whole family stays there, okay?” I pledged that we would. How refreshing to know I was…we were accepted into Big Jim’s family.
After several hours of talking, showing pictures, and sharing dreams Dad began to fade. He needed his rest. We said our good byes and I headed back home feeling emotionally fulfilled. Four days later I got a phone call that Big Jim had passed away. He had lost his battle with cancer. But he had regained the heart of his son in the process.
My sister, Stephanie and I attended his memorial a few days later. The family was kind enough to allow us to be part of the arrangement process. It was very moving for the two of us to be alone in the chapel with Dad’s body as we reminisced about bygone years. It drew us a bit closer without a doubt. Spending that time with her it was easy to see why Dad adored her so. She is a precious sister and was a wonderful daughter.
I talked to Stephanie on IM tonight. She informed me that her daughter, Megan, who is a member of the Rider High School color guard, will be going to London in December…to play for the Queen of England. Dad would have been proud.
