Father's Day 2013

Another time, another place.....

At the beginning of our life adventure--
I smile of the memories of Dad picking me up and
Twirling me around, our walks, talks, and card games
When he seemed to change the rules at every junction--and
Those times when I had to leave and go
Back to my life in Dallas, Dad forever said, "Be my prettiest girl"
So hard to believe he's been gone since 2001
I miss my Daddy.

Evergreen Evermore

Realized today this Christmas season will a bit harder than most. My guess is because of buying this house. And it reminds me the last time I spent Christmas with someone who had my heart. The house I called "home" was in Iowa and the year was 2000. The last Christmas I spent with Dad.

By Christmas 2001, Dad had been buried two months. I was in that Iowa house for the final time. It wasn't the same. His gawdugly orange lounge chair set untouched. No cigar butts in the ashtray. No tree or lights. Just wasn't the same. My kitten, Perry, who had shown up right about the day of Dad's funeral romped through the house. I always believed my parents sent Perry to help in the grief.

So today, I'm out and about and walk through Christmas trees set outside a grocery store. Their scent hit me and immediately thought of Dad. Got a bit weepy. I didn't feel this way in years past. I guess, my apartment seemed so temporary. But the house. It's more planted. I realize crying as I strolled down the frozen food aisle wasn't a good idea, so I buckled up.

I remembered one Christmas where I was to bring our turquoise flocked Christmas tree from Des Moines. We were so into flocked trees! Strapped securely in my trunk by the tree guy. No worries until about about 7 miles out of my hometown, my car dies. I can't remember why, considering rust seemed to hold it together, heaven only knows.

What I do remember, is a mom and her daughter stopped to help me. They were on there way into my hometown to shop. I was grateful they stopped so soon after my car died. This was Iowa in December after all. Cold and snow abound. We got the tree out from my car and into their trunk. Or so we thought.

I settled into the backseat for the few minutes of ride. Something told me turn around. I sat speechless as my turquoise flocked Christmas tree rolled down the highway. Away from these kind strangers' car! This was a four lane road, and thank heavens nobody was going either way. We made a U-turn, got my tree and made it home safe and sound.

Memories like that will get them through this holiday. Hmm. I may get a artificial tree, so I won't feel THAT bad if a cat pulls it down.

I know I am blessed.

Christmas in October

On October 23, 1954 my parents married. Dad always said when he met Mom, he knew his partying days were done. I arrived in April 1958. Things were non-stop from that day. The pictures here are from a Christmas—which outside of my birthday, was my favorite day of the year. But my parents would say, my birth was the Christmas Day for them.

They’d suffered four miscarriages and I was their last chance at a baby. They wanted me. And I suppose I wanted them as much. I'm sure God informed me of the troubles that lie ahead on Earth. Perhaps, I’d want another set of parents or kick around Heaven a bit more.

Evidently I had my mind made up--even then- and said no. I was born in Iowa, a state not known for its racial diversity, plus I had only one ear. A condition call microtia. So there would be broo-ha-ha how well I would hear. The endless hearing tests grew so annoying. Then my mother only lived to when I was just 13. How would a teenager, without a mother to guide her the rest of the way fare? With all that, I still arrived on the very day the family doctor predicted. Guess I wanted to get the party started because I popped out at 4:30 AM. When I went out on my own, Dad's tradition was to call me at 4:30am on my day. Good way to get my birthday started.

There were the good days, like Dad taking me on the walk to learn the way to kindergarten. He made school sound so grand! We’d peek in the windows and Dad told me how much fun I'd have. Although, Dad didn’t inform me I’d have YEARS to take it all in. The good times Mom and I had as we’d get food from the A and W, or our town’s version of a Dairy Queen. Just drive through the countryside as we sang, laughed and did some girl talk. Or the Saturday mornings, they would pour me in the back seat, with a armful of Nancy Drew mysteries. The whole day would be spent picnicking at different ponds and lakes while they fished and I read, slept and sometimes fished. That was major family time. On the bad, Mom believed in a few, good spanks. While Dad chewed his King Edward cigar, glared and said my entire four word name. Unfortunately, there were no siblings to blame stuff on. Outside of that, Mom would forever tell me I was her angel. Then Dad informed me to always be his prettiest girl. I thought the words corny--then.

On October 23, 2001, what would have been my parents' 47th wedding anniversary, was the day I buried Dad. Instead of tears shed at the grave site, I smiled because I figured Dad had it all planned. Mom passed away when she was 43, and Dad joined her when I was 43. And on this day, it was how it should be--Mom and Dad were together again.

Today I ready myself for a walk and I smile. For they will walk with me. I’ll catch a whiff of Dad’s cigar and hear Mom whisper in my ear that I’m still their angel.

They are mine.

I am blessed.

It's FRIDAY....no, wait---it's really THURSDAY....

....Yet it might as well be Friday....tomorrow is the 4th of July...a holiday....a day off...my kitty's seventh birthday (the orange tabby who graces my blog)....so today IS Friday!

Got plans?

In the days gone by, aunts, uncle, cousins, me and my parents would head to a family picnic. There would be a little fishin thrown in. Fishin' was my dad's way of escape from the crackle of the women. Also it was a time my dad and I would just bond.

I miss those days. He'll be gone seven years October 18. In fact, the orange tabby who celebrates his birthday tomorrow was my last 'gift' from my dad. Yep. A couple days after my dad's funeral, I stood at the back door of our house. Threw some corn to the squirrels, and saw this orange fluff run to it. A kitten.

It took the week before I had to leave my hometown, basically a game of cat and mouse before he wound up in my arms for good. We would sit, each morning on the patio. I fed him food--from the two cats that made the trip from Dallas with me, and talked to him. I told him he reminded me of a kitten I had when I was about 1o. That was Tiger Paw, an outdoor kitty--and one night I saw him, then the next day I didn't. I promised this kitty he wouldn't ever live in the wilds again. I believed my dad sent me the kitten to help me through the sorrow of missing him.

It worked.

Now, my kitten is seven years old. I still miss my dad, yet life is so good. I can't wait for the fireworks tomorrow...after all it will be a holiday, plus FRIDAY!

It's a Wonderful Day!

What a gorgeous day the Lord has made!

Today is Dad’s 84th birthday. Sometimes it’s hard for me to fathom he’s already been gone seven years. Diabetes finally took him captive. Dad said if knew he was going to live that long, he wished he’d taken better care of himself. Me too.

Our birthdays were special. Not so much in the gift giving part—just the whole thought of the birthday. We lived 750 miles from each other and Dad wasn’t feeling any computer stuff, so e-mail was out. On our birthdays we’d phone one another. On my birthday, he’d call me at 4:30 in the morning—because that was the time I was born. I miss those calls. One of my friends offered to do it. Very sweet, yet not the same.

On Dad’s birthday, I’d send him a least a dozen cards. From silly to the serious. He’d display them all over his house. When I still lived close by, he’d make sure the grill was fired up the ribs and chicken were on it. He would do this on his own birthday! I would have gifts in hand, plus an eager tummy. I miss those times—and so does my tummy.

I would also write Dad letters, especially while I sat at work—not working. I loved doing that. I knew he looked forward to them and so did I. On his burial day, I wrote one last letter to give him. I wrote it right before I headed to his funeral. Once there, before the guests arrived, I placed it in his pocket, along with his beloved King Edward cigars, and some pictures. I considered putting the Beanie Baby, “Cheery” that had kept Dad company in the hospital, inside his casket. Yet, I got selfish. I wanted Cheery to keep me company, like it did for Dad, as we both traveled new roads. Dad’s new road eventually took him Home. My road took me onto a new life without him physically here.

Dad is in my spirit.

Today, his birthday, would be a great day for us to sit on a riverbank, fish and reminisce. We’d have some good Daddy/Daughter time. The way it should be. Just the two of us. I miss those times too, yet the memories make me smile.

Indeed, this is a wonderful day the Lord has made for Daddy’s birthday!