Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Daddy's birthday
Just a month and a half after we laid daddy to rest, his birthday rolls around. I've been preparing myself for today, what would have been his 92 birthday. I knew this day was coming. I was prepared for the onslaught of emotions that were bound to hit me. I bought daddy's favorite flowers, planted them in a nice large container just after he died. I've been preparing. This morning, as soon as my eyes opened, I wished him a happy birthday in heaven and moved throughout my morning getting ready for work. As I left the house I situated his container of flowers onto my seat. Smiling I drove to the cemetery. I had daddy's birthday present! I arrived at the cemetery, grabbed the container and started towards the foot of his grave. Sat them down. A little twist here, a tug there and I stood back and took a good look to make sure they were situated just right. Great! I had completed this difficult task of heading to the cemetery early this morning on daddy's birthday. As I looked at the flowers, my eyes began to sting. The tears began to flow...so I sat with daddy a while and told him how much I missed him. After leaving my day proceeded, dragging me along. All I wanted to do was cry all day. Today is the first day my heart has truly ached since daddy died. I miss him so much it literally hurts some days. But as daddy raised a cowgirl who always gets back on her horse, I've saddled up. Ready to face my next obstacle, Thanksgiving. I have so much to be thankful for, yet I know with daddy missing, the holiday will be a little less festive. Maybe cowgirls don't cry, but today, my boots have been dragging all day. Happy birthday in heaven daddy! I miss you! I love you!
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Still learning
As I have watched my father's health decline over the past few years, I have come to realize more and more how our time is limited on this Earth.
From the beginning of my life, my daddy has taught me more things than I can count. From the standard lessons of life to the more subtle, sometimes without my even realizing, daddy has been a teacher in my life.
Being born to older parents was such a blessing. There were many things daddy could not do with me because of his age along my life but he has taught me so much about living a good life, even without words.
You see, daddy has never been much of a talker, at least while I was growing up. He was a hard working man who had little time for simple conversation. But, he taught by his actions.
Born in 1921, he grew up in the Great Depression era to rather poor parents. Farming was a way of life from a very early age. He not only helped his father farm, he also worked for other farmers in the area.
As he grew, he took on more farming, often sharecropping with others to keep expenses low.
He tells wonderful stories of picking watermelons, taking them to the market and the fun the farmers had joking with each other.
Never having much money and having an unmarried sister and a widowed mother to look after, daddy took a "real" job. Actually he tried a little of all the jobs. He was a logger and log truck driver, drove a truck for a dry cleaner, owned a gas station, did construction work, became part of the Security force at the "bomb plant", raised horses, goats, sheep and rabbits, was a fixer at a manufacturing plant, created beautiful woodwork, was an assistant to my mom in multiple flower shops (although we never got him to actually arrange any flowers) and he wove white oak baskets.
Just by his natural curiosity in the employment relm, he taught me to try a little of it all and do what you like to do.
He is the reason I found my voice in writing.
As he prepares to leave this world and join the ranks of the angels in heaven, I am astounded that even as death begins to approach, he is still teaching me.
From the beginning of my life, my daddy has taught me more things than I can count. From the standard lessons of life to the more subtle, sometimes without my even realizing, daddy has been a teacher in my life.
Being born to older parents was such a blessing. There were many things daddy could not do with me because of his age along my life but he has taught me so much about living a good life, even without words.
You see, daddy has never been much of a talker, at least while I was growing up. He was a hard working man who had little time for simple conversation. But, he taught by his actions.
Born in 1921, he grew up in the Great Depression era to rather poor parents. Farming was a way of life from a very early age. He not only helped his father farm, he also worked for other farmers in the area.
As he grew, he took on more farming, often sharecropping with others to keep expenses low.
He tells wonderful stories of picking watermelons, taking them to the market and the fun the farmers had joking with each other.
Never having much money and having an unmarried sister and a widowed mother to look after, daddy took a "real" job. Actually he tried a little of all the jobs. He was a logger and log truck driver, drove a truck for a dry cleaner, owned a gas station, did construction work, became part of the Security force at the "bomb plant", raised horses, goats, sheep and rabbits, was a fixer at a manufacturing plant, created beautiful woodwork, was an assistant to my mom in multiple flower shops (although we never got him to actually arrange any flowers) and he wove white oak baskets.
Just by his natural curiosity in the employment relm, he taught me to try a little of it all and do what you like to do.
He is the reason I found my voice in writing.
As he prepares to leave this world and join the ranks of the angels in heaven, I am astounded that even as death begins to approach, he is still teaching me.
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