On January 18, 2014, I became like so many others across the world. My dad died. The name of Ernest “Pete” Sparks was now a name in the obituary section of our newspaper. Many have already experienced this event in their life, yet mine seemed so much more important. It was, at least to me - but the world moved on. My dad died, as has yours, or, as yours will. The death of a parent, is painstaking in most cases, yet expected when one takes an honest look at life. After all, we are born to die. The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time to be born and a time to die. However, we don’t measure our life by the date of birth nor the date of death carved into our headstone. We measure our life by the “dash” in between.

My dad’s “dash” had already helped to define my life before his death and it prepared me for the remainder of my own “dash” after his death. “Lessons from Pete” is not simply meant as a tribute to my dad. It is meant to provide advice, comfort, and hope to the reader and guidance and inspiration to the dads who are still with us.

In the advice, humor, inspiration, and stories in this book, I hope you, the reader, can simply gain the joy of assurance. Assurance as a dad that you can choose to make a difference in the life of your children by showing them you are securely in the hands of God upon your departure. Assurance for the children, young and old, that you can trust in the faith of your father and move beyond sorrow to the joy of knowing your loved-one is only now experiencing real life.

Dads, as you read these pages, search your soul to be assured you have made the preparation to leave your family with the comfort of knowing they didn’t lose you to death. Children, as you read these pages, search your soul to be assured you have made the preparation to see your dad again, more alive than ever.

The day we got the official news of his mesothelioma is still a vivid memory to me. We sat in the doctor’s office, mom on one side of dad and me on the other. As the doctor shared the diagnosis a lump formed in my throat and I fought tears. I was scared to look directly at dad but I had to see his response. As the doctor explained that his time was nearly done, I saw little response. It seemed as if he already knew. Mom told me later that he did. “No excuses”, I’m sure he thought. Dad later told mom, “I’m a winner either way”. These were the last words he spoke regarding the specifics of his diagnosis.

We watched the strong bricklayer wither away to a frail man as he spent his last months in this life. During those last days, we realized what we knew was his coming demise. Dad saw it as a new adventure for which he had prepared for years earlier. He was about to take a journey to a land promised to him by his Heavenly Father. I remember reading a hospice story as I sat by his bedside one night. It was about a sailboat that departs from the shore. Those seeing it leave may feel sad as it fades across the horizon. However, on another shore, excitement arises as that boat becomes visible in the distance and arrives on the final shore. Dad had no reason to make excuses for anything he had done. He had no reason to look back with regret on the shore he was leaving. He had lived a scriptural life.

Our relationship with God depends on our acceptance of a simple gift of Salvation. It is puzzling to me that our materialistic society has trouble comprehending something that is freely given. The assurance that my dad gave me is nearly as valuable as the assurance I have in Salvation. You see, in this specific case, the two seem as one to me. My dad raised me in a home where I was taught about the gift of Salvation. My dad was living proof of a man who accepted Salvation and lived it in his daily walk. He never preached a single sermon and only rarely spoke in public. He lived his sermon – no excuses. As I consider friends who have rejected this free gift of Salvation I am concerned. Concerned that one day their life will end on this side and they will meet the One who could have been their Savior. No excuses. How sorrowful will it be to be cast into eternal punishment. Yet how sorrowful will it be for their families to know they left without the assurance of meeting again. No excuses.

I was recently teaching a Sunday School class and had talked about my relationship with dad. I became emotional as I spoke about the assurance I had regarding my father. I noticed several in the class wiping tears as well. One particular man, a recent convert, approached me later that day. He told me how broken-hearted he is that he does not have that assurance from his own father. How can a father leave such pain for his child? We discussed his concern and agreed it is definitely a point of prayer. How sad to leave this world, unprepared, and to leave your family with such additional heartache.

If you are reading this as an unsaved or unbelieving father, stop now; lay down the book; ask Jesus into your heart. It really can be that simple! You can have the assurance of Salvation and can give your family the peace that I was given, because I knew of my dad’s decision. There are no excuses. If you do make this decision, I’m sure you will want to tell someone…..probably your family