My Pretend Dad

Last year, God heard a strange unfamiliar voice praying to him. The scene was graphic, an old man lay bleeding out at the foot of his son. 'Grant me one more year with the father I never knew.' It was a simple request. One line that stretched across the heavens and landed on the ears of our compassionate God. Granting the son one more year, God said, 'This journey will be heart wrenching, your patience will be tried, tears shed, laughter unyielding and every ounce of energy will be drained of your flesh. You will know your dad better, you will witness the honor of a dieing mans survival, the price to witness this fight may come high and when you think the journey is over, the waters will calm, and you will become the man your father always knew you were. Then, I will ask him home to rest with me once again.'

To Scott,
Love
Eva
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Parents have a keen sense of what their toddlers are doing when they are little. On the phone, stirring dinner, and a hand miraculously reaches out a split second before the baby hits the ground, without missing a beat. This instinct as the kids grow change, but never forgotten. We still try to stop them from tripping along the way.

I met Steve when I was 16, he moved in with mom and I....all seemed pretty normal. Shortly after, his kids arrived, and then they bought the green house and moved us to Aldergrove. Steve not only took on our family, but our friends. Alfonz was around, Tammy, Billy, Jason, Clint, Danielle, Sterling....all welcome and often stayed their time in the Leathem/Giricz house hold. Not saying is was easy, but it stopped us from hitting the ground.

Steve would answer the door in the middle of the night when we came home. Eventually we climbed in the window, later still, we all got keys, and whenever we boomeranged home, there was always a soft place for us to fall.

Steve treated us well. I remember obscene amounts of presents under the tree at Christmas. Some years you couldn't even see the floor! He loaded us in the berry picking van up to Hope Falls where he taught us to shoot his gun. He travelled to Europe with mom countless times, and took mom and the kids around the states. Steve loved us. In his calm, laid back manor, man of few words, put up with kayos. 4 kids, endless amounts of friends, we were his clan. Steve belonged to us. And in return he stopped us countless times from hitting bottom as a dad does.

To witness the last year of Steve's life was an honor. To watch a man struggle to live, to endure pain, to realize what his life meant to him in all its raw glory, is the stuff that builds character, that teaches the living a lesson of love and humbling strength. We all must take this final journey, and hopefully with reserve, grace and dignity as Steve did.

His final year was truly a gift from god. He mended his ways, asked forgiveness, told everyone that loved him, he too loved them. I marvel at the peace he found. I remember his life, our family life with him, and that is how I will always see him. Around mom's kitchen table, surrounded by endless amounts of food, friends and family fill the chairs, laughter lifting high above. Our family made up of odds and ends, left overs from the modern family dynamic, we found one another, we loved one another, and he was the head of our table.

I love you Steve, my pretend dad. Thank you for being in our life. You will be missed but never forgotten.

With Love,
Eva