A Letter to Daddy From Your Crippled Son,

Dear dad,

You know, it wasn't so long ago, that October five years ago.  The one that changed everything.  The October that changed everything was preceded by the February that changed everything. It was in 2008 that I found God preparing my heart to lose my mother, so greatly prepared I was, that when the time came on February 7th, I wept at her loss yet rejoiced in her healing.  For eight months you and I wept together, we prepared together, and we moved on together. In October it seemed as though we where rounding the corner together, but then things changed on October 23.  The unexpected, unprepared for, the not ready to handle, you left too.  Saddened by grief God brought you home.  I write this letter not to focus on your death but your legacy.  The biggest change I've noticed in my life has not simply been the fact that you are gone, but that the man who raised his son to be more than crippled no longer stnads beside that son. 
 
In 1981 you became the father of a son, a son with whom you would never play catch, never teach to drive, and never do the "guy" stuff with. I should probably say here that it's not because you didn't want to do those things with me, it was because I couldn't do those things with you.  Your time with me would be spent driving me to and from St. Louis for many doctors appointments, to therapy, and working extra hours so mom could do the same.  your time would be spent defending your crippled son who would see him as nothing more than a cripple.  You would allow him to dream and stop those who might squash those dreams.  You would direct him to what you thought he might do rather than informing him of what he couldn't do.  You raised me to want to be a husband.  You didn't tell me because you can't drive, or make enough money, or fix stuff you aren't worthy to be a husband.  You raised me to work hard, to fight hard, and to pray even harder.  It's true you gave me a bit of an edge because you knew there would be a time when you would be gone.  Honestly dad, you raised me to be your son, you didn't raise a crippled son, you raised a son.  A son with vision, a son with ambition, and son with a heart. 

That's what I've missed most.  I miss the encouragement, I miss the hugs, I miss the love.  I loved hearing what I could do, and not what I couldn't.  I loved being pressed toward a goal  rather than directed away from it.  I miss my father, a warrior like no other.  Thank you for fighting hard for me, oh for  others to see the greatness in me that you once saw. Thank you finally daddy for raising, protecting, encouraging, loving, and challenging your crippled son so he could become so much. more.


Written by a battle weary son, in remembrance of his son.

With great love and memory of,

Mark William Mitchell Sr. November. 9, 1954-October, 23, 2008
It is truly my greatest honor to be called your son.