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.

May 17, 1924 was Saturday

My dad was born this day-eighty--five years ago. I smile, because if Dad still walked this earth, he would be a crustier and most loving ol' buzzard there ever was and still make the BEST bar-b-q ribs and chicken anywhere! After hearing these words, Dad would chew on his King Edward cigar and utter "Mercy!" Dad always spoke of his wish to open up a bar-b-q place in our Iowa hometown. Too bad he didn't, Dad woulda been a HIT!

On our birthdays, Dad and I would send each other about a dozen cards. He'd display them all over the house. Was just a fun thing to do. Some chums thought I was crazy to send him so many. Yea, whatever.

I'd send him serious cards, and little girl to her Daddy cards, then just funny cards. He loved them all. When Dad passed in October 2001, I packed up as many cards as I found and brought them back to Dallas. What's funny is, Dad still possessed cards I gave him when I literally was a little girl. My printing of "Daddy" on the envelopes made me smile.

As I've gotten older (and Dad would get a kick out of me joining a senior rec center) and the years after Dad's passing, I've thought more and more about his life. I bet when Dad was young, he wondered if there would come a time he didn't have to take care of somebody. See, Dad's dad died when my dad was just 12. By that time, all the older siblings were up and out of the house, leaving Dad home with his mom, plus his youngest brother and sister. The two youngest never married, and lived in the small four room house they were born in, until they died. .

Dad had just retired when my aunt became ill, literally for the first time I remembered. Dad went to the hospital every day and sat with her. Until she was released. My aunt died at home in the arms of her brother. It seems almost over night, my uncle was hospitalized. Dad began the vigil all over again, until my uncle's death--eight months after my aunt. Dad never complained.

And of course, there was me. When Mom died, Dad had a 13 year old girl to be all the more responsible for. So I just always wondered how Dad felt. We had our hard moments. A man in his prime, now a single dad. I realize Dad the best he knew how.

Honestly, I have a lot of smiles. Dad spoiled me, especially when it came to men. Yep. My dad cleaned, cooked--I mean really cooked (I miss his fried cornbread and greens. Talk bout some good eatin!) iron my jeans and fold bed sheets so well, you thought they came out of the package! And when I was little, Dad was the best snowman maker in the world and the best slide go'er down'er helper! Oh, and did I mention, Dad liked cats? Because of ALL that, especially the cat part, I thought every man liked cats.

Wrong. Every man I've been nuts about is either allergic or just out and out hates em. Which of course, is another post!

If Dad were here today, I'd probably be back in Iowa to present him a cake with 85 candles. I'd make sure every one was lit too. Ha! I can hear him to tell me to hurry with the lighting before the house burns down. Then I'd help Dad blow em all out, because I'd tease him how he was some old man now. Dad would chew on that King Edward cigar one more time before he put it in an ashtray. Then we'd count to three and blow all 85 candles out and laugh. For those few moments time would take us back to his lift so I could reach high for the icicle and even higher through life. Until the days I held Dad's hand, while he lie blind in the hospital. I knew then our earth life together ticked away. As I held Dad's hand, I asked God for even a teaspoon of the strength my dad always had. I think God gave me a tablespoon.

Happy Birthday Daddy! I am still your prettiest girl that loves you and smiles because your spirit dances in this house. I still want to make you proud that I'm Don's Girl.

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.”

Sunday Slow Down

Had a great walk tonight! A slight north wind made the 80 some degrees Dallas evening just right. Strolled around the park, s just up the street from my house. Lots of action there with families. Parents showing their little ones the ducks in the ponds. Helping with unsure steps. Dogs with their humans. Me loving every minute of my walk. Felt good. On my final lap I sat and watched the world around me.

A daddy held his daughter tight as she pointed to the ducks. Reminded me of my dad when we took our Sunday walks to the creek in our hometown. Walked a gravel road, which has since been paved. A house, on the way, had lots of ducks and geese in their yard. Dad and I always stopped so I could feed them bread. Dad always had a King Edward cigar in his mouth.

I do miss those walks with my dad. Those were the best daddy-daughter times. Our walks and talks. In the twilight of his life, diabetes grabbed hold of him and didn't let go until it stole his life. What walks we did share then, were just around the block--due to failing eye sight and amputation of his left foot. But we still talked. Talked about my cats, life and the football Iowa Hawkeyes. Our playroom/TV room was filled with Hawkeye stuff. When there was a chill in the outside air, we sported our matching Hawkeye jackets.

Yep, miss those walks-alot. So like today, I walk for us both.

I am blessed.