My Dad

Earlier this evening I went to bed, tired from all the days activities and fell asleep almost immediately. I started to dream and in my dream was my Dad. My Dad was born on October 7, 1929 and he breathed his last at 4:08AM on June 6, 2002. There were 72 years of real joy and adventure with my Dad.

I remember ever era in my Dad's life when I was on the scene. He was a strong man, not too tall, portly and very much in charge. Patriarch was not a good enough title for this man for he had total control of the family and we all worshipped him as our Father.

I can remember that we used to always address him as "Yes sir" or "No sir" and never do I recall a time when he ever sat us down and taught us that this was his title for us. It was just a "given" that he demanded that kind of respect.

He was a "jolly" man and I can remember that every time a child or grandchild walked into the room where my Dad was, he would always give the "Sun" competition with his smile. He loved his family very deeply. My children called him "Papa Dan" and that is who even I remember him as today.

In my dream, it seemed strange that he was MY "caregiver". I don't really know how that came about except I suppose I remember the last couple of years of his life when Barb and I would drive to California to give Mom some much needed relief and assist in caring for Dad. In his prime he was probably around 240 pounds and perhaps about 5'10" tall, portly (sorta like George Costanza of Seinfeld) and a very good looking man.

What struck me when I woke up was the last time I physically cared for him. I can remember as if it were yesterday, sleeping on the sofa and Dad couldn't sleep so he was in his recliner and he continually went up and down, down and up in that recliner all through the night. Barb and I could tell that he was very restless and so, even with an impending back surgery for me, I got up and cradled my "Daddy" in my arms and carried him back to his bed so he'd be able to better relax. At this point, only probably about 98 pounds, body eaten up with disease and very fragile, he looked at me and said, "I am not afraid, Dave". And of course, I responded, "I know you're not, Dad". I'll never forget that moment as long as I live.

Such a powerful, strong giant of a man for 70 plus years, here lay this skeleton of a body, my Father, unable to carry himself to bed. Sometimes I suppose that is why God decided to give us children, because He knew that someday our strength would overpower that of our Father's here on earth and he would need a "little" nudge so as to maintain his integrity and yet still get some much need sleep.

At the end of my Dad's life he was a very strong Christian man, loving and fearing God so I imagine there is a verse that probably adequately fits this situation but somehow it escapes me this early in the morning. Perhaps someone will bring it to mind.

Anyway, that's one of the last "Father and son" moments I recall with my Dad, Joel Dallon (Dan) Stallings, my most favorite hero, in life and now in eternity. I miss you, and love you, Dad. I'm grateful that you were my earthly Father and I look forward to hugging you again.

Your Son,

Dave