Short stories about my father.

It’s Thursday.  It’s September 25th.  It’s the day after my (step) father’s birthday.  I received a text yesterday at 1:33 pm, that said, “Reminder, Dad’s Birthday, September 24th.”

So.  in honor of my step-dad, but REAL father, Jerry T. Dennis, here are some stories I remember about him, and a little bit of his history.

If you don’t know my dad, I compare him to SuperMan, and RoboCop.  He seriously will live through just about anything.  My dad is in a wheelchair from a car accident he had, as a result of heart attack while driving.  (They said it’s a wonder he lived.)  As a result of that accident, they had to rebuild the left side of his body.  His insurance didn’t cover it, so, he didn’t get his hip, or the metal things he needs in his leg.  About a year ago, he suffered a stroke, thus, losing most of the right side of his body.  The doctors said he would completely recover, but from his lack of motivation and depression, he did not do the excercises.  He used to tell me, “I buried my wife, and a daughter, I am alone and I’m old, I am a recovered alchoholic and drug addict,I will eat what I want and do what I want.”  My dad is stubborn as a mule. (He’s from Texas.) My dad also has small fits of dementia, probably brought on from diabetes, which can make life with him interesting. He also suffers from Hepatitis C.

My dad is funny in the fact that, with all of that going on, he knows his kids so well.  I called him yesterday to explain that I honestly thought his birthday was the 26th. To which he replied, “I know, you think that every year.”  Wow.  It’s amazing that my father is able to do that.

He is also the man who sat me down a year ago, when I started drinking again and Andrea left me and said, “Son, I don’t interfare with your life, and I let you make your own stupid decisions.  But, Andrea is the one for you.  I don’t know what you’ve done to screw this up, but I am sure you did something.  If you have any brains in you, you will straighten out and get that girl back.”

Before that, my father never once told me what he thought about any of my girlfriends.  He never once said anything about my decisions.  He simply told me he loved me regardless, and would support any decision I made.

I am starting to think my dad has always known whats best for me.  He has always known what I need to do to grow up.  My dad is…. My dad is…. I don’t have words.

When I was 10 years old, my mom got sick of my dad’s drunken stupers.  She told him if he did not quit drinking she was taking the kids and leaving.  That was a Saturday night.  The next day I woke up and my dad was gone.  We were certain that he had left us.  about 2:30 in the afternoon, my dad showed up with more life than ever.  He had all sorts of goodies he had gotten from a church.  He told us that he had quit drinking and accepted Jesus Christ into his life.  My dad has not had a drop of alcohol since. (15 years)  Looking back, that was probably my first experience with the Holy Ghost. If I only knew then.

One day, my mother and I got into a HUGE fight.  My dad grabbed me, took me to his jeep and started driving.  (Like he always did to break the tension.) In the middle of one of his long LOOOONG lectures, I inturrupted and said, “Dad, you’re an idiot.  Mom is cheating on you! She has been for a long time!  Why don’t you just leave.  She is using you! She doesn’t Love you!”

That’s when he looked at me and said something I will NEVER forget.

“Son” He always made sure I knew he considered me a son. “Son, The day I married your mother, I promised you, Adrienne, and God that I would never leave your side, I would never let you down, I would always be here for you.  I am not going to break that promise.  I love you son, that is why I am still here.”

wow.

My dad, now is weak.  My dad now needs someone to help him.  In all honesty I get annoyed.  When he calls I dread it.  I love hearing his voice, but I still kind of dread his long stories.  As he grows older, he makes a little less sense.  I can’t wait to hear the end of the conversation when he says, “I love you son.” Still reminding me that my father didn’t abandon me, just a guy with some sperm and a temper.

His ability to forgive and love unconditionally is a true example of Christ’s love.  And I guess my relationship with him sums up my relationship with God sometimes.  He is strong, has always known what’s best for me, and has always always loved me, unconditionally.  A lot of his suffering was so I didn’t have to. I dread to hear what God has to say, because I might not like it.  But I long for the end of the conversation when he says, “I love you son.”