I’ve never known a man to have such a huge father’s heart as my husband, Joe. His heart for his children knows no bounds.
From the moment the kids were born, Joe relished being a dad. Even from the minute we found out I was pregnant, he could hardly wait until the baby was born. He truly delighted in the birth of each of our kids.
He would come home after a long day of work (and a long drive home!!) and would play swamp monster, take them swimming, play ball out in the yard, wrestle on the floor, on and on. Each night was completed with Joe reading a book – Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, Polaris Jack, But No Elephants, Richard Scarry. If he got tired of reading the same book over and over, he’d read it backwards as the kids laughed hilariously. If he got tired of playing the same game over and over, he’d make up his own hilarious rules. His greatest joy was being the one to pray a prayer to ask Jesus into their hearts. He wanted to be able to spend eternity with his children.
Once in a while, the kids and I would meet Joe downtown Seattle for lunch. We’d have lunch and then go to the Seattle Center and walk around. If Joe wasn’t busy at work, he would take the kids on the tram back to work with him to spend the rest of the day. They loved spending time with their daddy.
As they got older, he helped prepare for and host parties for the kids and their friends, helped our daughter and her friend dye their hair, polished Jason’s shoes as he got ready to go to a prom, taught each of them to ride a bike and later to drive. I couldn’t begin to list the many different ways he spent time and was involved with our kids. He loved being involved in their lives…and they loved him being involved. Always a people person, Joe could always be found in the middle of a group of kids, playing right along with them, making up games. The more the merrier, the more the fun. We rarely had a babysitter, instead taking the kids with us wherever we went. We loved having them with us.
Joe played more games of chess with Jason than I could count. He paid for the kids’ education, bought their first car for them, helped our older son start (and stay) in business, paid off his debts to help get on him feet when he was struggling. He has helped emotionally, spiritually, financially – just to name a few. To say that he was an involved dad would be an understatement…and the kids loved every minute of it. He celebrated each triumph with them and grieved each sorrow with them. To say that he loves his kids so much also would be an understatement.
Eric, Joe and Jason
Joe polishing Jason’s shoes before a formal
Joe struggled terribly when Jason died. He was so devastated. I was so worried about him. He went back to work – and Jenna and I went back to school – a week after the accident. I think we all tried to jump back in too early, but we didn’t know any different. Joe had an hour and a half drive to and from work, his route taking him by either the cemetery or the accident site every day. Many days he would come home from work, and I knew he had been crying.
Joe told me once that he always imagined our house in Snohomish being filled with our kids and grandkids. He was looking forward to being a grandpa. He could picture it filled with family and friends.
After Jason died, the emptiness echoed around us. Our friends disappeared and left us alone. Our daughter was busy with school, working and taking dance lessons. Our older son had moved out not long after his son was born. He, too, went to school, worked a labor-intensive job and helped take care of his son, Michael. Although we have three grandchildren now and have tried to stay in touch and have a relationship with them, it has been difficult. With long distance relationships, it takes encouragement from parents and effort on all parties for it to work. Much to our sorrow, it just hasn’t happened very much. Let’s just say it’s not the ideal Norman Rockwell grandparent-grandchild relationship. It’s very sad.
Yesterday, our new neighbors (who have bought the property across the street and will be building a house there) came by their property to play in the creek. They are a young couple with two adorable children and stop by regularly for picnics and to let the kids play by the creek. I notice Joe periodically looking longingly out the window at them, wishing he could be a part of the fun. We had to run some errands and Joe saw a sporting goods store that had big balls in bins in front of the store for sale. He went over to look at them, thinking to buy one for the kids to play with. Since we try very hard to not encroach on their privacy, especially since they usually bring friends with them, Joe decided not to buy one. He was very quiet on the way home and I could tell how much he misses being around “young people” and especially kids. He wants to be the grandpa that hangs out and plays with his grandkids. He was just so sad.
We miss getting together with people. We miss being around young people. We miss our kids. We always thought we would continue the fun of raising our kids once our grandkids were born. It just hasn’t happened that way. Our son, daughter-in-law and grandkids live all the way across the country and it continues to be a difficult situation. Jason he is gone. He will never get married. He will never have kids. He would have been a great dad. Our daughter and son-in-law live four hours away. They have made a decision not to have kids, and we respect their decision. This coronavirus thing has made it difficult to see them. Both Joe and I have been horribly burned by people we trusted and struggle with trusting friendships. As a result, we really don’t have any close friends and are alone a lot of the time.
We just celebrated our 44th anniversary. I love this man more than I could ever put into words. We have been through ups and downs, many moves hither and yon, difficult things no parent should face, health issues, on and on. We have survived and I love him more today than when we got married.
I heard this song the other day and thought of Joe when I heard it. It’s written in the form of a rhetorical question – Could I Love You Any More? – to which the answer is: I don’t know how I could love him any more than I already do. I love him with my whole heart.
Seven billion people in the world
Finding you is like a miracle
Only this wonder remains
Could I love you any more? (Question’s rhetorical)
Could I love you any more? (Oh, this feels phenomenal)
Could I love you any more? (Love is all there is)
Could I love you any more? (It’s inexhaustible)
Could I love you any more? (Oh, love is unstoppable)
Could I love you any more? (Love is all there is)
Wishing happy Father’s Day to my precious hubby. I wish I could take away your sadness and fill the gaps left by Jason’s death. You are an amazing man and I am so thankful for you.
© 2020 Rebecca R. Carney