As the rain gently fell upon the skylight above me I noticed the quietness of this moment. There was a holiness about it.
Memories of images – seeing you sitting in this chair early in the morning reading, often with the Bible in one hand and the paper in the other trying to make sense of life through the lens of God’s Word.
Thank you dad – for life, for your chair, and for all that you instilled.
Irish storytelling, wisdom, humour, faith, and a diligent work ethic. For your love of my mother, the church, duck-hunting, and working with your hands – you have left a legacy that often makes me smile.
I’m missing you this morning. I wish you were here to see how my wife has matured into that amazing woman you always thought she would be even from the earliest moments. I miss seeing you look at her with fatherly eyes and embracing her as if she were your own.
I’m missing you not knowing your grandsons as young men. Dad, they are incredible and I see a lot of you in them. Faithful, intelligent, wise, talented, generous, helpful, loving, funny and handsome are some of the words that describe them today. And the women they have partnered with are amazingly perfect for each of them and proof the Pue thing is continuing another generation. Oh Dad, how I wish these ladies had known you. You would have loved each of them, and they you. They are all teasable but can dish it out too – each of them loving and strong, kind and wise, generous and faith filled.
I’m missing you not being here to experience your great grandsons . They would have brought so much joy to you. Each of them unique, much like your own sons. There is an Irishness about each of them that would make your eyes twinkle. When I’m with them I realize the love I feel is with the same kind of love that you shared with my sons and they with you.
I’m missing you as we prepare to welcome our first grand-daughter – picturing you with tears as you would have held her in your big arms with her head completely protected as it rests in your large hand.
I’m missing you and the thought that your “wee lad” as you called him even when he could take on both of his brothers without showing any fear, plans his wedding. I know he wishes he could have introduced his fiancé to you. He is so in love and so proud of her. You would adore her as we do, she too is perfect for him.
I’m missing you when I think about how much you would love our church. The preaching, the choir, the worship, the opportunities – and I can’t help but smile as I think of your pleasure that I am back in the local church.
Yet as I sit in this chair, I realize you haven’t missed anything have you? Your love somehow continues to flow. You do love your grand daughters and wink affirmingly about them to “your boys”. You are cheering blessings over those great grand kids. You are still so proud of my bride and believe in her – being Dad to her, and if it were possible – still spoiling her.
And for me, I have not only a chair but years of Sunday phone call memories where each you closed with “you’ve got to walk by faith son.”
I still hear you Dad, and try to do so every day.
– Carson Pue
4 thoughts on “Sitting in Daddy’s Chair”
Thanks for publishing this Carson. As an admirer of my own father, I appreciate your words.
Beautiful & poignant.
=’) That was heartbreaking and heart-warming at the same time. Thank you for sharing.
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