Hey Dad, if we could sit down and talk again today you would be 58. I’m 25 now, so I would buy us both a beer, and here’s what I would say:

Remember when I scraped the car junior year?

At first she said she knew it was her fault but then she called us back to say she wanted $500. You were frustrated, but then you decided that we would pay her. You said she was one of the people our church was trying to love and you wanted her to remember grace if someone ever met her and talked to her about Jesus—and losing that opportunity wasn’t worth $500. Thank you for teaching me how to preach the gospel in word and deed.

Remember when you led a youth ministry during college?

When I started raising support three years ago, one of those students told me he was going to support me before I even had a chance to tell him what I was doing, telling me that if I was your son, he knew whatever I did would be worth supporting. That was the easiest support meeting I’ve ever had. I really needed that money to get started in ministry. Our church plant is at 800 people now. Thank you for not wasting your college experience.

Remember when we used to have Dad & Me days?

I looked forward to those days every year. I think it’s funny how our favorite thing ended up being to go to Sizzler and drive new cars at the dealership. Cheese bread and new-car smell are some of my favorite memories. Really, I think I just loved hanging out with you. I’m so glad you took me with you to that conference in Denver and then to your old stomping grounds in Seattle to explore. Each of us four kids got to go on a special trip with you. Thank you for making plans to build memories and teach me that God gives his kids the best gifts.

Remember when you started feeling a pain in your back?

It ended up being cancer—monster cancer. You were so confident God was going to heal you. I was too. Then you told us the chemo didn’t work and you were going to die. That was on my 18th birthday—three months after they diagnosed you, three months before you died. I was so confused and angry with God.

Remember our last conversation?

I asked you what you wanted me to do with my life.

You told me to please God and I would please you.
You told me to love my younger sister and brother, to hug them and tell them they were special.
You told me God was good and I could trust him.
You told me to study the book of Romans hard because that’s where you found your peace and that’s where I would find mine.
You told me it is better to give than to receive, far better, and to learn this and live by it.
You told me I had given you deep joy as a father just by being your son.
You told me I was a man of God and had your deepest blessing, and that we had the same heart for Jesus.
You told me that true obedience is learned through suffering.
You told me to remember heaven.
You told me you were going home to meet Jesus.

It’s been seven years since we had that conversation and I remember everything you said. God has been so gracious, and I’m trying my best to love and follow him like you did. Sometimes I worry about whether I’ll ever be as good a Christian, husband, and dad like you were, but then I am able to rest in peace because you taught me that the Father loves and accepts us regardless of whether we succeed or fail.

Thank you for making Jesus and the gospel so easy for me to love and trust, and for building a godly legacy. I love you, I miss you, and I will see you again in heaven.

Steve Sakanashi is a deacon at the U-District campus. His father, Mark, passed away in May 2004 from cancer. The above photo is of Mark and Steve when the son was about one year old.