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Writer's pictureCarrie Kendon (Sanders)

Honor Him Justly

Updated: Nov 30, 2018

Every year, on the anniversary of my father's passing I am sent messages of condolences and memories. Beautiful, thoughtful friends and family post sweet notes to let me know they are thinking of and remembering my Dad. The sentiment is wonderful; although I am not much for remembering "anniversary of death" dates, I appreciate their efforts. Personally, I think of them more as "Heavenly Birthdays", this year I struggled more I expected.


The reason for my struggle bothered me.


On October 29th, almost on cue, the annual "drank a shot of Jack Daniel's in memory of your Dad" messages starting coming in. My father did truly like his JD, but the thought of the way people chose to remember him by drinking a shot of whiskey infuriated me this year. I know the incredible people who chose to remember him. I know how much they loved my father and I know my Dad liked his Jack Daniels; but he loved football and farming, camping and chess. He had been a police officer and restauranteur, a salesman and was an incredible father and friend. Toasting him with a quick drink seemed ridiculous to me, but to be mad at the way they chose to honor his memory was uncharacteristic. So, why did it make me feel that way? I was embarrassed to talk about it and didn't ask anyone for help. I prayed about it some and set the thought to the side to the past month.


The other day, as I pondered what I would be buying Joe for Christmas this year (he likes Bourbon) I figured it out why I was upset at the Jack Daniel's toasts to my Dad.


My father passed away just a few weeks shy of my 21st birthday. That was 1997. This year, my father has been gone for 21 years. My nephew turned 21 this August. JW can legally drink a shot of JD in honor of his grandfather, my father. The second 21 years of my life has already passed by and now I am in firmly planted in the same decade of life (my forties) that my dad had been in when he was last with us.


( pausing to allow reality to set in)


I realized it was difficult for me to embrace others remembering my father through a shot of Jack Daniels because I was not a part of that piece of my father. A part of me never mourned a milestone that I had not yet realized mattered. That thought had been stuck somewhere in the recesses of my heart. There were many firsts that I knew my father was not present for, many tears were cried over those missed moments; but until today I had never thought that I had emotion attached to missing the chance to sit at a bar with my father and have a shot of Jack Daniels.


Isn't it strange to think our parents had lives before us? Oh, how I would enjoy the chance to take a ride back in time and see my parents as teens! Peaking in on the bonds forming then that raise the shot glass to my Dad now... that would be something special.


The next time I am sent a "drank a shot of JD for your dad" message I will receive it with unbridled joy. Grateful delight knowing that there are people who created a relationship so everlasting that remembrance is now tradition. That is timeless friendship. I have been changed by this.






Dad, Jes and I at Disney in the 80s. We can talk about the boy hair in another blog.

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