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.

In Two Weeks

In two weeks it will be Father's Day. Just around the corner. As like my dad's May 17th birthday was a couple blocks back. :) From my dad, I posses what laid backness I do have. Maybe my internal toughness too.

After my 2006 open heart surgery, one of my doctors said, "You have a high tolerance for pain." While a nurse announced, "Don't be so brave!" When it came to my lack of asking for a pain killers. See, I wasn't that sure what the pain was suppose to feel like. More of an annoyance. Got that mindset from my dad.

What are Dad and my eight year old so so self talking about? Maybe how Mom snapped this picture with a Polariod camera and we will see the results in 60 seconds? Or how a lifetime away from this moment I would 'blog' about him on a personal computer? Or maybe get ice cream at the Tasty Freeze while we're out for more King Edward cigars?

Who knows? Wish I did.

I did choose to remember and celebrate Dad with an original poem and photograph. Go take a look. You may remember too:http://7thstreetslant.etsy.com

I am blessed.

Monday Marvel

My Cousin Sussers was to be released from the hospital today. Will call her tonight just to make she's following the doctor's orders.

Saw my first robin today. I smiled. I could hear my Daddy, up in Heaven, whisper in my ear, "See your first robin, Spring is not far behind." Heard him tell me that so many years. I miss my Daddy. And I can hear him say, "You big baby." And I would respond with, "Yes I am. I'm your baby. No matter how old I get." Then Daddy would chew on his King Edward cigar.

The marvel of cleaning out litter boxes and to put trash by the curb. It's such a chore. And the one time, I really wish a man was here full time to do the trash thing. Then my mind wanders to after I had my mitral valve replacement surgery and my first full shower after. I ran out of breath just as I dried myself. I had to sit down. I about collapsed getting to the chair.

Panic. Would I always need to stop and catch my breath? For anything--even as simple as drying off?

When I mutter about the trash I should remember how it was in 2006, and how it is now.

I'll take now. Quite the Monday Marvel.

I am blessed.

This Day....

October 18 in 2001, was a Thursday. That’s the day Dad died. His death was the rotten cherry on an already soggy cake of a day. The call from the nursing home came at 3 pm. Due to some work departmental thing, I was involved in, didn’t hear my voice mails until 3:30. When the calling number was recited, I knew. I rarely received Iowa calls during work days. I knew. The ironic thing was, the nursing home went to rouse him for a doctor’s appointment, because he hadn't felt well. But Dad beat them to the punch: he made an appointment to go Home and went the way he wanted: in his sleep

Diabetes, a vile culprit, caused a foot to be amputated in January 1997. Unfortunately, during Dad’s rehab, his vision worsened. I always believed that contributed to lack of self-confidence. The robust man I knew, began to physically weaken. Never saw Dad again without the use of a cane, even tho the doctor gave him a great prognosis with his prosthetic foot. Dad never grasped that.

Diabetes robbed his entire sight in July 2001. It would never return. Dad’s dark brown eyes were now outlined with thin ring of blue. I joked with Dad, how at 77, he finally got blue eyes. Dad was fitted with a pacemaker, and then transported to a local nursing home for rehab. So he could learn to live without his eyes, and eventually go home. That didn’t happen.

Eventho there were folks Dad had grown up with or worked with, at the nursing home, it still wasn’t home. Still not his chair, the ‘clicker’ for the TV or his dog, Peaches, a chubby little Chihuahua who kept guard. It just wasn’t home. After I was told Dad’s rehab wasn’t going as well as expected, I asked him how he’d feel if he had to stay longer.

My father’s response: “Oh, baby, I would die.”

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!