In Memory of Larry Stinnett (1946-2012)

It's been a year since I last posted an entry on this blog.  I guess there are a variety of reasons for my absence, but none of them would be more prominent than the homegoing of my dad.

Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2007.  Dad had a PSA test that had come back somewhat elevated.  The urologist was so concerned about it that he ordered 12 biopsies to be done.  When all 12 biopsies came back positive for cancer, the urologist moved hastily to remove dad's prostate.

I'll never forget the day we discovered the terminal nature of dad's diagnosis.  The urologist took dad back for surgery and we were told that it shouldn't take long to remove the prostate.  The doctor planned to do the surgery laproscopically - as minimally invasive as possible.  After only an hour in the surgery room, the urologist came back out and gave us the bad news - he was unable to remove the prostate.  When mom asked what that meant, the doctor replied, "It means your husband probably has 1-10 years to live."

Those words were like a punch in the stomach.  We thought dad was going to have a simple procedure, recover at the hospital for a day or two, then be on his way.  Clearly things didn't turn out that way.  The doctor's words were prophetic - dad ended up with five years following his terminal diagnosis.  I wish I could say those five years were always filled with joy, but they were not.  Dad suffered many things before he went on to this eternal reward.  He endured chemo, radiation, hormone shots, and even a an experimental treatment called Provenge.  I'm sure those treatments prolonged life, but none of them could remove the inevitable.

Dad had a great deal of pain he tried to manage everyday, and the pain grew much worse the closer he drew to heaven.  Prostate cancer loves to spread to the bone, and that's exactly what happened to dad.  But there's one thing I can say:  Dad kept a positive attitude all the way unto his death.  He never lost his hope in God or his joy in the Lord.  He rarely ever spoke of his impending death.  He was and is an inspiration to us all.

So dad has been gone for a year.  It's been a hard year.  There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about him.  Thousands of things he said still run through my mind.  They even replay in his voice.  So many times I've wanted to pick up the phone and call him and get his advice.  It's been well-said that you don't know how much you love someone and need someone until they're gone.  Dad was my example.  He was a constant source of wisdom and information.  Now that he's no longer here, there's a void in my life that no one else can replace.

One year after his death, I've decided that it's time for me to memorialize him by letting you know who he was to me.  A blog post is not enough space to tell it all, but I want to give you just a taste of the man he was in my life.

Dad was my provider.  Quite simply, he was one of the hardest working men I ever met.  He would rise early and he would often stay up late.  Short of sin, there's nothing he wouldn't do to make sure his family's needs were met.  I especially began to appreciate dad's work ethic when he and mom started their own business in the early 90s - just as I was beginning high school.  Dad's first work vehicle was an old Subaru hatchback.  His first office was his bedroom and he slowly graduated out to the screen-in porch.  One time he took me to work with him just outside of Nashville.  We worked from sun up to way past sun down for two days.  I didn't have any trouble sleeping when the work was done, and to his credit dad never had any trouble sleeping either.

Dad was my protector.  Not only was he my protector, but he protected my mom and my brother as well.  I'll never forget a beach vacation our family took one summer.  My brother (Brad) got on a float and began to ride out over the ocean waves.  Brad lost track of how far he was from the shoreline - he was too far out to swim back.  When dad noticed the dilemma my brother was in, he took off, swam out to my brother, and brought him back to shore.  He was a man's man for sure.

Dad was my coach.  My dad loved sports, played sports, and taught us to love and play them as well.  He was a baseball coach - from T-ball all the way through little league.  He was also a basketball coach.  My brother and I both played church league basketball during each of our 13 school years.  I can't remember one of those 13 years that dad wasn't coaching me or my brother or both of us.  He even coached RA basketball for Oakwood Baptist Church before I was born.  He was also a softball coach.  He coached the men of Wallace Memorial to a city championship and on to state competition.

There's so much more I could say about dad.  He was my teacher, in every area of life.  My dad even taught me and my brother all about "the birds and the bees."  True story - he checked out an anatomy book from the library and used it to explain to me and my brother what distinguishes a man from a woman.  How many dads would bother to have that discussion with their boys anymore?  Dad taught me how to love my wife and my children though the way he loved my mom and us.  Most important, he taught me to love God, to love His Word, to love His church, and to love the lost.

Dad was truly my example, my friend, and now more than ever he is my hero.  Dad never said this to me or my brother, but he surely could have: "Imitate me, even as I also imitate Christ" (1 Cor. 11:1).  He may be gone, but he will never be forgotten.  I look forward to seeing him again "soon and very soon."