My Father’s Lightsaber

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May the Fourth Be With You! (I couldn’t resist the temptation)

Star Wars was released in the summer of 1977. I was eight. My brother was six. I remember three things about the day we went to see it. I remember standing in a forever line. I remember the Wookie. And I remember Old Ben Kenobi handing young Luke Skywalker a blue lightsaber. I don’t remember who took us to the theater or what happened before and after, but that movie became (and still is) a big part of my life.

While it wasn’t revealed until many years later, that story was the beginning of a quest for Luke to confront the sins of his father and lead them to ultimately reconcile their pasts. It was a story I could relate to. It’s one that’s played itself over and over again throughout history. Arguments, ego’s, and unresolved personal issues are some of the reasons that tear us apart. Reconciliation is tough, but possible.

My father traveled a lot when I was young. There are pictures he is in that trigger memories, but they are scattered and unclear. I just remember his absence, the space where he should have been, during my early years. We moved a lot as he chased his next hustle. The constant restarting took its toll. As a teenager, we grew further apart.

While I was very close to Mom, Dad and I were floating in two very different oceans.

In my early twenties, He said some things that shattered any possibility of connection between us. In a moment of anger, he said that he had no respect for me. For the record, he was absolutely right to be mad at me. I had earned the anger, but I had not deserved those words. I spent years trying to gain his respect back.

During a dinner conversation on a random Wednesday night in 2020, I shared the impact of those words with him. I was fifty. My dad looked at me sadly and apologized. He had no recollection of the argument. He then proceeded to share all the things that he respected about me (with specific examples). He said he’d felt that way for most of my life. It was a very emotional moment that changed our trajectory. I finally saw him for who he was – a flawed man trying to do his best for his family.

Mom passed away this past November after a long illness. My wife and I immediately knew what needed to be done.

Dad lives with us now. He’ll spend whatever time he’s got left in our home sharing stories – many of which I’ve never heard. We are building our moments now. He’s earned his place in our home and we’re making the time count.

As SAHD’s, we’ve made the choice to be by our children’s sides for as long as possible. We relish the good times and muddle through the others. We laugh, cry, and say things we wish we could take back. Memories are tricky. Pictures fade or get lost. How will our kids remember us? Will it be the good times or the sting of a few poorly chosen words?

We need to leave memories that matter and create purpose. The challenge is to craft as many intentional lightsaber moments as we can. Some dads create those moments under the hood of a car, leaving a bright red toolbox when it’s time to go. Others leave an old baseball glove or a pocket knife. If you’re like me, go and build an actual lightsaber with your kid and light up it every time you play the movie.

What are you doing to create your moments? Feel free to share in the comments section.