A Supernova Smile

"It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living." –F. Scott Fitzgerald 

It's been nearly 13 years since both my parents passed. My dad first followed by my mom four months later. My sister and I miss them every day. 

Today on Father's Day, I really miss my dad. He wasn't my biological father, but in many ways, he might as well have been, which is why we took his name when we were in high school. 

My dad and I did not agree politically, but we did share an affinity for empathy. I learned from him that men can be caring and loving, kind and forgiving. He listened to me and heard me, most of the time without judgement, and even if he didn't agree with me, we could have a conversation about everything. 

As I revisit something I wrote about him after he died, I'm struck again about how much I miss his loving smile and the laughter in his heart. It was always a sunny smile, my dad's. A master of levity, he injected humor and silliness into most everything he did. His infectious laughter brought smiles to anyone in the room, the scar above his lip gleaming under light like polished glass. For the life of me, I can't remember how he got the scar. All I know is that it added a richness to his character, like biscuits soaked in honey and butter – you could never get enough.

This from someone who served in the Air Force and who also was a law enforcement veteran of 32 years. Anyone who ever worked with him shared the same sentiment – from the criminals he put away (who he called his customers), to literal strangers he'd meet on the street, in the store, in the campground, in the post office, in the doctor's office – everyone experienced his sunny disposition, his goofy humor, and his viral smile.

My dad inspired me to do the same – to be silly, to embrace life and all the people in it, to always give life and everyone in it a second chance, to still have a smile on my face when facing adversity and my own shortcomings. To always be loving and empathetic with a lightness of being.

I remember when I carried him to the bathroom the week before he died, his frail body still buoyed by the lightness of being he had left. 

Our meditation this morning was about fathers and how we should be unconditionally loving and giving to everyone. My dad was all that, and the love and laughter in his heart left a supernova smile in mine.