The First Father’s Day

Father’s Day. We are practically 9 months through our year of “firsts,” just 3 more months to go until the first anniversary of Justin’s death.

Justin loved his father with a childlike affection and devotion.  Justin still thought his dad the smartest, most cleverest dad to be had.  I remember we were in Charleston and Doug was helping Ryan open the garage door on the house Ryan had bought in the south.  One of the previous owners, a marine, had sealed the garage door shut with some unknown sealant. It was a intense battle, Doug and the door. I would call Justin and share updates, with complete confidence Justin said “My money is on dad.”  And he was right, Doug was victorious. Justin’s first surgery required an overnight stay at Union Memorial. The surgeon had removed bone from Justin’s hip and basically rebuilt portions of  Justin’s foot and ankle, screwed it all together and hoped for the best.  Having bone harvested from your hip is extraordinarily painful but the boy never complained. Doug never left his side. He stayed all night in the hospital and kept watch. Justin told me later that he was grateful for the surgery because it gave he and his dad time to reconnect, he had his dad all to himself. (Justin had just returned home from his first year at Franciscan). The gift we so often overlook is the gift of our being present in the moment, just to simply be, not doing, just to be in that moment.

One of my favorite spiritual classics is “Self-Abandonment to Divine Providence” by Fr. De Caussade. I go back to again and again. He and others teach on the sacrament of the present moment. We who live in regrets of the past and consumed with anxiety for the future, miss the moment we are living now, miss what God has willed for us at that very moment. He writes:

“The present moment is always full of infinite treasures, it contains far more than you have the capacity to hold. Faith is the measure, you will find in the present moment according as you believe. Love also is the measure: the more your heart loves, the more it desires, and the more it desires the more it finds. The Will of God presents itself at each instant like an immense ocean which the desire of your heart cannot empty, although it will receive of that ocean the measure of which it can extend itself by faith, confidence and love. The whole of the created universe cannot fill you heart which has a great capacity than everything else that is not God. The mountains which alarm your eyes, are but atoms to the heart. The Divine Will is an abyss the opening of which is the present moment. Plunge into this abyss and your will find it ever deeper than your desires.”

We recently found a beautifully intact notebook of Justin’s writing, he was just 16. He had taken a class in creative writing. This piece was simply titled “My Father”.  It speaks to me of  the infinite treasures of the present moment.

Justin Jackson
May 23, 2001
Mod 1

My Father

Had to cope with his parents divorcing when he was thirteen,
His mother had not long after,
Married a military man,
He had to grow up in the shadow of his older brother,
Who excelled in everything,
He wasn’t like the others in his family,
With a slightly warped sense of humor,
He studied theatre production,
Where he met my mother.

He

Loves her still as the day they married,
Their similar sense of humor playing in perfect harmony,
Playing a hilarious dichotomy at times,
Everything done,
Done together.

My father

Taught me everything I know about computers,
About recording and writing music,
And countless other things,
He introduced me to the music of Alan Parsons,
Now a true favorite of mine.

He

Is my inspiration,
Wisdom and knowledge offered when I write,
Both with words and with music,
We still have a golf game to finish,
We made it to hole nine before we left,
Saying we’d finish it another day,
That day is yet to come,
I look forward to that and every day,
That I have the chance to spend with him.

The precious gift of time, moment by present moment, so fleeting…so swift.

Just an end note, Doug was closer to 7 or 8 when his parents divorced, but we did not want to change Justin’s original text.