To My Dad

To my dad, I never knew you. You never knew me. Even so, without you I wouldn't be here. To be honest, I wouldn't exist. Without you, I wouldn't have been able to become a dad. It's an experience I wouldn't trade for anything.

I wouldn't know the feeling of tiny newborn fingers wrapping around my thumb. I wouldn't know the joy of seeing my baby girl take her first steps, or the excitement on her face when she sees me walk in the door from a long day at work. Those emotions, those experiences, those are true moments I live for.

I grew up not knowing you, and you lived life not knowing I existed. The truth is... I may not have had you in my life, but I did have others who filled your role. They showed me wisdom, connection, and correction. I learned what it meant to fall down and be picked back up. I also learned that if I fall, I can force myself back up.

Beyond all that, I learned what it meant to call on my heavenly Father. I've called on God when I needed direction. I've called on God when I felt lost and alone. He's been my Rock, my Shield, and my Hope.

Today, on Father's Day, I want to assure you that I don't hate you, I'm not mad or upset. Instead, I want to thank you, because if it wasn't for you I wouldn't exist, my daughter wouldn't exist and I wouldn't have experienced what it means to be a dad.

The son you never knew, Eric

Trigger Warning! Thanking a Librarian.

Let me share a short, but true, story...

Bored with nothing to do, a sophomore walks into the local library. He's not there for books. He has a hard time reading...that's not true...he can read just fine. The problem is, he has a hard time understanding what he's read once he's read it. There is a disconnect between the words on the page and how the story came together in his mind.

To this point in his life he can probably count on one hand how many books he's read from cover to cover outside of Dr. Seuss and a few choose your own adventure stories.

As the young man waits for an opportunity to use the internet, a newly released book sits on the shelf waiting to be read. The cover shows the outline of a boy, a teenager, formed from the torn out page of some unknown book. Behind the figure the world is on fire. It looks desolate, empty, and ravaged. The title reads, "The Last Book in the Universe." The inviting image grabs the attention of the young sophomore and book find its way into the young man's hands. He reads the story of Spaz, an outcast, without any real family except for a sister that lives so far way he can't ever see her.

The young man has two sisters he can't see as often as he'd like because they live with their father and their father isn't his father.

There is an old man in the story called Ryter who takes the spaz under his wing as a mentor. Ryter reminds the young reader of another man in his own life that has done the same.

The reader connects to the story in a way he never has with previous books. With each turn of the page he finds himself drawn in deeper and deeper by the gripping adventure. Reading the story about a young man who thought himself worthless, much like his own thoughts, who stumbled across a way to change the world in both small and big ways flipped a switch in his mind.

By the end, "The Last Book in the Universe." had become the first book in the universe to make sense. It triggered a desire to do something different. To put words, and thoughts to a page even if no one in the world would ever read it simply because words on a page have the power change the world.

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If you haven't guessed already, the young sophomore is me. There are a few major triggers that pushed me to put pencil to paper and write for the first time. This book is one of them. I recently remembered this book. I knew the title and I one of the final lines, but nothing in between. As I read the first couple chapters for the 2nd time in nearly two decades it came back to me.

After reading this book for the first time I began writing. I wrote all kinds of random thoughts, song lyrics, poems, just about anything into a notebook. I still didn't care much for reading, but I secretly, and I mean secretly, loved writing. I couldn't tell you the difference between a verb and noun but I thoroughly enjoyed putting the pencil to the paper. My reading comprehension still wasn't any good, but my self comprehension soared.

Today I'm a struggling author still fighting to put words on a page. But, it may have never happened had some wonderful librarian not put "The Last Book in the Universe" prominently on display at my local library. To whomever you are, Thank You!

Eric Stender