Britt’s Dad

The first thing I noticed about Dave, besides his Corvette jacket and bald head atop a tall frame, was that he was a very quiet man. It was a comfortable quiet, the kind of midwestern calm that doesn’t feel the need to occupy the silence. He and his wife Beth were at ease, saying hi to Brittany and the kids and simply catching up on life. Papa Dave was well known and loved by Britt and her kids, and I was just on the scene, ready to meet the dad who helped raise my wife into the woman she is now.

I don’t remember exactly what we talked about, but I think it had to do with their fifth wheel in Florida. They spent winters there, which made me jealous with a smily face, as I had met yet another who found a way to beat Michigan winters — by annually leaving them. Once the conversation turns to weather, especially Michigan weather, you have plenty to talk about.

Brittany loved her dad. Sure, he’s officially her “step dad”, but we know that it’s not a blood line that makes a father. It’s presence, stability, direction, and love. Dave provided this for Britt and her siblings. A quiet, gentle giant, he had the biggest heart. His presence in the room got everyone’s attention. It was the comfort and safety a quiet observer brings.

Although we talked only twice — once about corvettes, the weather, and having the same haircut, and once at our wedding, which is a blur — I knew Dave to be a good man.

A good man suddenly passed away this week. We got the call at 4:30am. Nobody wants the phone to ring at 4:30am. It was unexpected and heartbreaking. Suddenly we’re putting together a memorial service. I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Dave better through Brittany, her siblings, his wife, and his kids. I have the pastoral responsibility for this one. As I write, a group text between family members keeps dinging with funny stories and fond memories. This is healing. This is good.

You know what I’m going to say because I say it often: every day is a gift. Don’t take people for granted. Love the ones around you and plan on it being different in the future. We have no idea what’s next, but we do have each other.

A good man suddenly passed away.

Thank you, Dave, for being the gentle giant who helped raise my wife. The impact is obvious. I’ll hug her tight tonight because she misses you greatly.

About radamdavidson

When I'm not blogging, I'm hanging out with my family, pastoring a church, or listening to vinyl. I think and write about Jesus, music, communication, organizational leadership, family whatnot, and cultural artifacts from the 1980's -- mostly vintage boomboxes. You can read my blog at, watch [RadCast], a daily 3 minute video devotional, or find me on socials (@radamdavidson). I also help Pastors in their preaching and public speaking (
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