The dictionary defines invasive as, “tending to spread especially in a quick or aggressive manner”.  It is a perfect definition of the way my dad loved.  His love would come at you whether you would want it or not.  He was king of dropping by people’s homes or offices with their favorite beverage because he wanted them to know he cared.  My dad’s love would go above and beyond.  It was extravagant and loud.  At times his love was embarrassing and other times it was surprising.

He had no greater love for anyone than the love he had for my mother.  They were a team.  They were inseparable.  Their relationship was not perfect, but they were committed to each other.  They were passionate, caring individuals who fought fiercely to provide for their family and support their friends.

I wrote about my dad’s addiction earlier in the 40 day project.  Addiction could have been something that tore my family apart, but my parent’s commitment to each other helped us all get through it.  My mom kept her job, my dad’s business and all three of her children alive during that time.  It could have been something that kept my dad in hiding, but he used it as a platform to minister to other people and love people better than he had before.

After my mom died, he was lost.  I can’t imagine the pain of losing a spouse.  Kevin and I were living with him and we ended up having to move out and set some hard boundaries.  He didn’t understand how we could get up and go to work.  He didn’t understand how we could be happy.  The love my dad had for my mom was fierce and he grieved fiercely too.  He wanted us to hurt like he was hurting and when we couldn’t join him he would get angry.  It was hard having to choose between keeping my newly formed marriage in tact or trying to make my dad happy.  It didn’t feel like both were possible, so we moved out.

I had lookout people all over the city in the places he frequented.  I would get updates on what he was up to from day to day.  I would know if he had shown up to men’s bible study.  I would hear from the ladies at the bank if he had been in that week.  I even checked in with the photo lab ladies at Costco to see if he had been in.  Slowly I learned that he was not doing his normal things.  He wasn’t showing up to places he was supposed to be.  I got nervous.  I remember being at a cookout with some friends from church.  One of guys asked me about my dad.  He asked, “Where do you see your dad in the next five years?”  I replied, “Dead.  If he keeps going the way he is going without his support he will be dead.”

I had no idea how prophetic those words would be.  I don’t think it was two months after saying those things that I got a call in the middle of the night, from my dad’s dear friend.  He told me that my dad had died and that I should come to the house.  Kevin and I drove the 3 miles to hear his dog howling into the night at the loss of his best friend.  My dad’s body was gone, but the police were still there.  They gave me a run down of the next steps and the phone numbers I needed.  I called my brother in Chicago and went to go tell my youngest brother in person.

There is no training course on what you are supposed to say in that moment, so I just said, “Hey.  I’m not sure how to say this, but Dad’s dead.”  Which every response was the same, “What?!?  Are you serious?”  Every time.  It was my response too.

The next year was really difficult.  There is also no training manual geared toward twenty-somethings on how to deal with an estate.  It was hours and hours of phone calls. Somehow Sprint kept charging my dead dad for a phone he was clearly not using.  It took about 3 months of consistent calling but I finally got transferred to John in the VIP customer service department.  Do yourself a favor.  If you need customer service with Sprint, just ask for the VIP customer service from the beginning.  You will be so glad you did!

Eventually everything was taken care of and we could breathe again.  We could start remembering my dad and grieving his loss.  We could laugh at his crazy antics and appreciate the legacy of love he had left us with.  His love was not conventional.  His style of love was not even all that healthy all of the time.  But there was no question of whether he loved you or not.  You knew he did.  Even in his broken messed up state his loved was undoubtable.

On the 10th anniversary of my dad’s death my brother, his wife and I drove around Metro Detroit and delivered beverages to six of my dad’s closest friends.  We came unannounced just like my dad would have come.  We sat with each person for a little while and asked them to share a story about our dad.  It was an incredible and exhausting day.  Each story started the same, they would let us know how angry my dad could make them, but how they missed him so much.  They would tell stories about how my dad had loved them well and how his invasive love had changed their lives.  It was beautiful.

My dad and I did not always get along.  I think it was because we were too much alike.  We would butt heads because we both wanted to be right and we were both stubborn.  I wish I had the boldness to invasively love like my dad, but my fear usually wins or I get talked out of it.  I often wonder if he acted without permission, so that people could not stop him.  There are parts of my dad that I do not care to replicate, but his fierce invasive love is trait I would love to emulate.

There are so many days I miss my dad (and my mom), especially after our boys came home.  They lived to be grandparents and died before they earned the title.  There are so many days I just wish I could ask them a question or hear stories about when I was little. I wrote in a previous day about the privacy my in-laws allow us to have even though they live the across the street.  I know if my dad were still alive we would need to find creative ways to keep that privacy.  I know he would be here every day and be involved in every aspect of my boy’s lives because that is how he loved.  His love did not know boundaries.  His love would push in when you just wanted him to get out.  I know it would drive me crazy, but I would give anything for one more day of his invasive love.