Dylan Stafford

Happy Bday Dad!

Two hours and twenty two minutes.

That’s how long we talked today, the morning of your 82nd birthday. You in central Texas, snug as a bug in your country cabin. Me in Los Angeles, with my wife and sons and dogs all asleep in the house.

Two cups of coffee each. A two hour and twenty-two minute “Great Conversation” on your birthday. Mom beeped in halfway and we added her for a three-way call, then she left to finish prepping herself to drive from Ft. Worth to join you in the country tonight.

Happy Birthday Dad.

I’m grateful for our long and winding conversation today, the morning of your 82nd birthday. The “Great Conversation” we have called it since that backpacking trip together in 1992.

You yourself were only 36 years old when your father died.

You have blessed me my whole life.

I am 55 and I still have you in my life. I have had you 19 years longer than you had your dad. I am blessed by you today, as I have been every day of my whole life.

So, after our birthday call–but before I take my younger son Christian to his all-star basketball game and before my older son Jackson awakes from his never-ending-teen-age slumber–between all that, what can I say to you for an 82nd birthday tribute?

Thank you.

Thank you for giving me life.

Thank you for parenting me and showing me how to live life.

Thank you Dad.

Thanks for being a loving husband and modeling how to partner, well, with a wife. You and mom are my role models, now, forever and always. Being married to Marisa is the center of my life, and from that center I get to be a father. There is no instruction book on marriage, but I have everything I need from watching you and mom. Thanks for teaching me how to be interested in life, and living life well.

Here’s a short list of the things I have watched you do and lessons you have taught me:

Be a patient husband. You and mom will celebrate 60 glooooorious years this summer!

Be a father to three children: Me, Lisa (deceased), and Jon.

Support your wife through the loss of her only daughter and best friend, Lisa.

Be a minister.

Be a choir director.

Be a school psychologist.

Be a cattle rancher.

Change out an entire engine on a Volkswagen Campmobile driving home from Illinois to Texas, when the old engine burned up.

Build and fly model airplanes.

Play hacky sack.

Sing.

Fish.

Take your young family backpacking in Colorado.

Be a plumber.

Be an electrician.

Be a gardener.

Be a Certified Alcohol and Drug Abuse Counselor.

Be a friend.

Be a sponsor.

Be a reader.

Be a brother.

Be an uncle.

Be a son.

Enjoy the “Great Conversation.”

Be a lifelong learner.

Take road trips.

Love classic rock.

Love church hymns.

Ride a motorcycle.

Separate the wheat from the chaff. “Be gentle as a dove, and wise as a serpent.” You remind me of the wisdom from Matthew and it helps me live life in Los Angeles.

Shoot a gun.

Build a bonfire.

Write a book. You never stop telling me, “That would make a great chapter in a book.”

The list could go on.

“Kids don’t remember what we say. They remember what we do.” I have watched you “do” life, and do it well, for my whole life. You have blessed me with your example.

I made a list of my top 12 male friends, and what I know about their fathers. The vast majority of my best friends have already lost their father. Some died recently. Some lost their dads decades ago. One or two never knew their dads.

Your Presence.

Dad, beyond all the lessons, you have blessed me with your presence. I’m sure I will never fully appreciate the blessing it is to have a father, always, in the background. I will never fully appreciate it because it is the only life I have known.

Thank you. Thank you and mom. Thank you both for all that you have given to me, to Lisa, and to Jon.

Happy Birthday Dad.

Happy 82nd!

Love,

Dylan

P.S.

Here are a few of my favorite photos of you.

And even a few non-dogs…

Happy 82nd birthday Dad.

I love you,

Dylan