Monday Musings with a sad heart...

There are some days that cause your heart to sink.

Today is one of those days.

It was 13 years ago, I was awakened around 6am with Mother at the bottom of the stairs calling me to say that Daddy had not made it to dialysis.  I rushed to put on a bra (yep, tmi, I know) and ran out the door as I was praying each step for God to be with me.  I KNEW what the possibility of me finding was, and I was afraid…no, that doesn’t even begin to explain my emotions…I was terrified.

Mother said, “I love you,” as she always did, with me rushing to the car.

I followed the path that I knew, all too familiarly, that Daddy took when going to town. 

As I neared the end of Hyde Road, I saw a stranger, I learned later, that lived across the road from where Daddy’s truck had gently eased off the road into a small ditch.  I KNEW…

Immediately, a fog engulfed my body, that I believe now, was the way that God protects us.  I went through the motions of what I knew I had to do.  I sat in the truck alone with my Daddy for the last time, as I told him that He was the best Daddy I could ever have wished to have.  I thanked him for loving me and I had no idea how I would go on without him, but I would do the best I could.

People came and went, the policeman was so kind as he handed me Daddy’s wallet and recounted the contents.  The EMTs checked to ensure he was dead, and Mr. Mack said he would drive the truck home, as I went to tell Mother that Daddy was dead.  I can envision her standing on the steps as I approached the house…She knew…

The morning is as clear to me as anything ~~Brother Kyle, the pastor where I worked, and Brother Joe, our Pastor, came…Tim stopped by from the funeral home…Amy brought paper plates and to say that they were headed for FUGE.  We laughed as I busied myself by taking Daddy’s sheets from his hospital bed for the last time…I looked to see the rest of the Jam Cake that was on the table and how it was Mother’s fault that Daddy died because he couldn’t bear the thought of eating that cake since Mother had tried a new recipe…I was kidding…kinda…

We had phone calls to make and all I wanted to do was to cry.  I sat in his chair and looked at the cross saw Mother had painted with the image of Daddy standing on the porch of where he was born…

News spread quickly and food started coming.  Fed, one of Daddy’s dearest buddies, appeared at the door holding 2 pounds of BBQ that he made…one dear young man , a lawyer, had been riding his bicycle out our way when he got the call from his wife and he turned around to stop by to give condolences…FOOD…everywhere.  That night, I sat on the floor TRYING to shove FOOD into the fridge.

We made the arrangements for the visitation and the Funeral Home…

The fog remained and I went through the motions…music was selected…friends were greeted and I remember telling God that Eternal Life BETTER NOT be a myth and I BETTER get to see Daddy again…Yep, God just kept loving me as I grieved…

I have spent my time trying to remember Daddy’s LIFE instead of his death.

I laughed just two days ago when I found two packages of roast beef in the freezer that had gotten pushed behind other food treasures.

Daddy LOVED a bargain.  When he would leave his ROMEO CLUB members (Retired Older Men Eating Out) at McDonald’s he would go to the store to see if he could find some marked-down meat.  He would come home with a roast, most every week, and he could care less about the meal of roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions that Mother cooked.  It was the next day that he EXPECTED a hot roast beef sandwich.  For those who don’t know, it is: toast, roast, mashed potatoes and gravy…EVERY week, we had that.

Daddy was so easy to please, but he just wanted the same few things over and over.  It was rather comical since he said that Mother and I studied the cookbooks more than we ever studied the Bible…sigh…

As I made Beef/Potato hash from that meat I found, I caught myself snickering as I recounted the MANY hot roast beef sandwiches we had eaten, and how, it was probably 4 or 5 years after his death before I made another one. 

My mind wandered as I remember bizarre things about Daddy~~he answered the phone by saying “nal-right”, which he denied saying, but Mother and I laughed at him and would mimic him in the background.

I flashed back to my college days when I would run home to pick up something and then head back to school, since it was only a 2 hour and 15 minute drive, door-to-door.  EVERY time I walked into the house, mother would say, “What are YOU doing here.”  I would reply that didn’t make me feel very welcomed.  I would laugh as I walked to the stove to discover they were having hash for supper.  I loved hash, but really, is that ALL they ever ate?  Mother kindly informed me that if I would CALL before I came home, then she would fix whatever I wanted!!  It was so fun coming around the big curve before the house and walking into the milk house to see my Daddy.  His grin was priceless!! “Why, hello, gal…”

He would sneak away and come to visit me at school, sometimes.  There was the one day that he and my boyfriend appeared at our apartment on the same day…ROFL  It was all cool, because they loved each other, but made for an uncomfortable moment, thinking WHAT is DADDY going to THINK!!  LOL

Daddy was the first one to arrive at the hospital my Junior year when I had my first kidney stone.  He stayed until he knew that Mother and my brother would be there in just a few minutes, so I wouldn’t be alone.

Daddy and I spent countless hours at craft shows.  He would greet me from work, with his silly grin, as he showed me what he had gotten cut for me that day, and he would proudly proclaim: “I’ve got your table set for you, gal.”  I would then leave a new stack of patterns at his place on the table when I would leave for work, with a note saying, “Whose table is set, now.”  I also remember the one time I didn’t wake him up to answer the phone as I was heading out the door at 7:01.  I left him a message.  That night, I was greeted by a very unhappy Daddy who told me to NEVER tell someone he was asleep at 7:01!!  I just laughed…I told him that I was certain that he had not lost the respect of a fellow farmer and that he had earned every single minute of sleeping past 7 that he ever wanted.

I was Daddy’s shadow until the day that he died.  I seldom said that I was too busy to go somewhere with him.  If he asked, then I went.  He would drive around the “circle” every night before dark, and many times, I went with him.  We would stop by and talk to a neighbor sometimes, but most times, we just drove and looked.  The neighbors called him “The Mayor”. 

I was so happy that I was able to stand by his casket without a single regret.  That doesn’t happen often.  I did all I could do for him and I was so proud to have been his little girl.  I don’t know how I got so blessed.  I got to be his little girl for 40 years, and I know so many don’t get that much time with their Daddy’s.  I don’t think there is a day that goes by that I don’t miss him, but I hope that I will honor him by the way I live my life.  I know, not many people have a parent that is most always within 232 acres of them, so I don’t take my upbringing for granted.  I was “packed” back to the house more times that I can count because I would fall asleep to the hum of that little red tractor.  I was lucky to drag my toes through the freshly plowed red dirt of the field as I followed him.  I held that tape measure as he walked down the row to mark off the land for the crop.  I silently snickered in the back seat of the car as we came around the big curve and Daddy would say, “look at those cows heading to the back field” because it was time to gather them to milk.  I loved being in the truck beside him as we slide into town after the snowfall.  I loved riding in the back of the truck or on the back of the wagon he drove to the back field.  I looked at him with scorn as he allowed Brian to give me an unripe persimmon.  I clung to his leg for comfort when someone dared to speak to me and I was too painfully shy to answer, but let them remark about my “BLACK EYES” and I would in no uncertain words, tell them they were BROWN.  He was my super hero!  My protector…those soft hands of his were strong and gentle.  That silly tongue being stuck out at me during the prayer when he would bring the offering to the altar at church is a priceless memory.  HOW blessed am I!

Good night…sweet dreams and I love you…~charlotte♡