June 17, 2001 was Father's Day

....and the last one I had with my Dad.
A King Edward cigar-
My dad's favorite,
Waits for him.
Just as I do-
Until I see my Dad again
In Heaven.

My Dad

has a birthday today. 
Yes, indeed. It is his 88th birthday. I wonder how Daddy would be, if he still walked this earth. My guess Dad would still charm the ladies, as he did the nurses during his hospital stays. The nurses would tell me how Dad would just talk and talk about me.
The picture here, during my spandex legging stage, with black Reeboks tennis shoes, was snapped sometime in the early 90's. Before diabetes grabbed hold of Dad and wrestled him down one too many times. Before the one time Dad's eye sight was  robbed and his heart could no longer keep pace. 
Just before.
 Daddy was my heart, and I was his life--his 'prettiest girl' he'd say.
My eyes water as I miss our times on that stoop, and Dad's cigar smoke tickles my nose.  When I'd come back to Dallas, after am Iowa trip home and open my suitcase, all my clean clothes (which Dad usually folded!) smelled of his King Edward cigar. And  I would smile. 
To remember and savor that scent--one more time--just to know Daddy was near-
Makes me smile. .

October 18, 2001 was Thursday

....and the day a man who loved me more than life went Home. My sweet Big Daddy Don battled diabetes like the warrior he was, yet the filthy disease wound up with the victory of the war...

I know Dad would get such a kick from this terra cotta pot thing I am doing. I can see him now-With his King Edward cigar secured in his mouth, Dad would inspect the pot. Cigar smoke circling the pot. Then he'd do his nod and "hmm-mm" of approval. He'd ask me about them and say the pots were pretty. Of course, Dad would then sit the pot on the end table by his chair. We'd get to watching some TV, probably Andy Griffith Show and Dad would need to flick off the ashes from this cigar...into guess what? Yep. My pot! I'd yell, "Dad!" He'd get his eyes all big, and shrugged his gentle giant shoulders and go, "Well, ain't it a ashtray?" We would both laugh. I laugh even now just with the thought of it.

Ten years today. A decade. Where has the time gone? I miss my dad. Sometimes I swear I can smell that cigar smoke in this house. I know my sweet daddy's spirit lifts me up ti this day.

...and I wouldn't want it any other way. I am blessed.

Saturday Touch Past...

That's what today was as I decided to clear out my back bedroom where everything gets tossed. I should say 'start' to clear it out. I didn't get as far as I wanted because I touched the past--alot. I found letters from a guy I went to high school with. Turns out we exchanged handwritten letters during one of his years in college. I didn't/don't even remember! Cards signed by my sweet Daddy. I can't believe on 10/18 will be the tenth anniversary of his passing. Found pictures of Dad before diabetes really made its move. Healthy, robust and King Edward cigar in his mouth. There was also a letter I 'wrote' to my Dad wishing him Happy Father's Day. I looked at the envelope. It was dated a year after I was born. Ha! I'm sure Mom helped! I've mentioned I was such an Osmond Brothers fan back in the day---well, I found negatives, probably all my negatives, of that mystical, magical time. Such a surprise! The big question, do places still reprint off 110 negatives? The actual prints, I have lost some thru the years--so for an Osmond fan, this is quite the jackpot! More photos, newspaper clippings, notes I'd received from management at the company I worked at before my current one. I'd given the CEO a copy of my then newly self published book. He sent me a nice note back which include his wish for my writing career to thrive! Completely forgot that! Cards to celebrate my birthday, good wishes when I left a company. sympathy for my dad's passing and get wells after my pesky open heart surgery. All these things span my whole life. Then I found a sympathy card from the girl who was my BFF thru our girlhood growing up years. I remember I was surprised I heard nothing from her when Dad passed. She had family in our hometown and Dad's passing was mentioned about every hour on our local small town radio station mixed in with the soy bean report. The BFF lived in another state, yet I thought her family would tell her. My house was her home away from home, when we grew up. We were that close. One inhaled, while the other exhaled. When I got back to Dallas, after Dad's funeral, and still not a word from her, I wrote BFF to tell her of my Dad's passing. Her handwritten letter told me her family didn't tell her. And we hadn't been the closest thing in those recent times. She apologized several times in the letter saying there was no other place she would have been if she'd known. Also the former BFF said it had been awhile since we'd spoken and left me her phone number. Maybe we should try to talk again. I didn't remember that part of her 2001 letter. I sat, in the midst of my clutter in 2011 and wondered if I ever called her. I thought we were so estranged by 2001, why bother? Or I did call her and the conversation wasn't one for the scrapbooks?

When you touch the past like that. does it have room in your today?

Hmm.

Father's Day 2011

This is my 10th Father's Day without my Daddy. Doesn't seem like it's been a decade since I became an adult orphan. I would hear his voice on the phone, every weekend "Just wonderin' what yer up to" he'd say. Dad usually called on Saturday morns, about 10ish or so. I wouldn't leave my apartment until we spoke.

The last few months of his life, Dad wasn't able to call me, so I called him. Those were bittersweet times. I knew life would soon change as we both knew it. I'm still in a 'change' mode--these years later. Dad would get a kick out of that and just chew on that King Edward Cigar.

In fact, if I showed Dad one of these terra cotta pots I'm trying to perfect, he'd size it up, just kinda nod, then use it as an ashtray for those ashes of said King Edward Cigar. Then he'd tell me to just keep on tryin, 'cause I would get one of these times.

Dad liked to fish, loved his westerns, devoured pineapple malts, put hot sauce on his chit'lins, send me at least a dozen birthday cards, ask me if I caught any Andy Griffith episodes, boast about the Iowa Hawkeyes, sip on scotch and milk when he shouldn't be, pet my cats and they would play with the smoke rings from said King Edward cigar, fry me up pork chops whenever I went back to Iowa and we'd sit at our kitchen table and just talk. Those were the BEST times

Just Dad and me.
What I choose to remember
And blessed my Daddy's spirit dances with me still
Sometime I think I can smell that cigar smoke...

October 18, 2001 was Thursday

....and the day my dad died.

I can't believe Sweet Big Daddy Don has been gone almost a decade. Seems like forever, yet then seems like yesterday I got "the call" that afternoon. Just an awful day at my job. I so wanted to quit. I'd even gone home for lunch, since I lived close. I thought about calling my dad just to hear his voice. Yet, I thought I just bothered him so much about my work troubles.

Little did I know it would have been my last call to him. Dad was in a nursing home/rehab because of his blindness in July. He was learning to take care of himself even tho he couldn't see. It really wasn't going as well as they'd hoped.

My dad was so use to doing everything on his own. Now he couldn't see and had to so depend on others. It was sad. I still had him pictured walking down the street, Iowa Hawkeye jacket on with a King Edward cigar dangling from his mouth.

So on that Thursday, I think my dad just had enough. I know he never wanted to leave me--after all, I was his 'prettiest girl'--plus, he missed my mom and tired of waiting. Dad went to sleep and just didn't wake up. Just the way he wanted.

For me today, it's all bittersweet. How much my life has changed since his death and what has remained the same. I still hear Dad's laugh and times I think I smell the cigar smoke...

Especially when I look at his Iowa Hawkeye jacket that hangs in the closet.

Father's Day 2010

As I write this, Father's Day 2010 ticks to done for another year.
I miss my Dad.
Our last Father's Day together was 2001.
Dad would laugh today when I'd tell him we all wore cowboy gear to church--now Cowboy Football gear. Nope, COWBOY as out on the prairie cowboy gear. Guys on horse back, as well as stagecoaches, were in the parking lot. The pulpit was decorated with hay and a little tiny pony, a donkey, a cute llama would peek his head out ever now and then, plus bunnies and baby piggies and alot of root-tootin' fun. And yes, my pastor Rickie Rush, of Inspiring Body of Christ Church brought the Word too. Me, myself I work a black cowboy hat which was solid investment of 99 cents at the GoodWill. Got compliments on it, even tho I think I look liked I robbed a stagecoach.
Yep, Dad would laugh and chew on that infamous King Edward cigar.
So as this Father Day ends
I'll curl in bed
And realize our days do still begin-
Then I smile.

Birthday Eve Bit

My father, Big Daddy Don, as a friend could call him, passed away in October 2001. I think about my Sweet Daddy every day. Today was no different. Bittersweet, really.

You see, back in the day, I tried to make it back to Iowa for my Birthday and if I didn't, Dad and I would be on the phone. One of our rituals--that and Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper. We would sit and wait for TVLand or some channel to play an Andy Griffith episode. We both hoped Barney Fife would be in it. And I would ask Dad, "So what's tomorrow?" Not to miss a beat Dad would say, "Trash day!"

I'd whine "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddddeeee!" and we'd both laugh. Then I'd ask, "So what were you doing x-years ago today?"

If we were on the phone I knew Dad's eyes would shine as he shifted that infamous King Edward cigar to the other side of his mouth--then his smile would start. Dad would replay how he waited for Mom to have me. He waited impatiently and also in fear. My parents didn't have any other children, in fact they had experienced four stillborn before me. The doctor advised this should be their last try. Mom couldn't handle much more. And then Dad would tell me how I arrived at 4:30 am and the nurse came running down the hall with a wailing 7 pound 14 ounce me and said, "Don,we got us a girl!!" I was headed to a incubator. I was born with one ear, called microtia, so questions abound--time answered them all. :)

I miss the re-telling of my birth. .

I miss getting a phone call at 4:30AM to wish me Happy Birthday.

And I miss the storyteller.

Sometimes, right before I fall asleep, I swear a hint of cigar smoke tickles my nose.

I am blessed.

So....

...can you say 8 and 0?

The Iowa Football Hawkeyes can!

In my jammies with :02 to go

Hawkeyes on Spartans 7...

TOUCHDOWN!

Scream and clapped SO loud

My neighbors had to hear me!

While the spirit of my Dad

Smiled through the smoke

Of his King Edward cigar...

GO HAWKS!

October 18, 2001 was Thursday

And the day Dad died. Seems just like yesterday, while other days it does seem like years ago. I miss my dad. Alot. When I'd say stuff like that Dad would say "You're just a big ol' baby." And I would respond, "Yes, I am. YOURS." If back in my hometown, a hug would follow.

Also, yesterday, while I watched the Iowa Hawkeyes beat the Wisconsin Badgers, I swear I smelled the smoke from Dad's King Edward cigar in the room. Even now I smile as our matching Iowa Hawkeye jackets still hang, side by side, in my closet.

On this day, in 2009, Pastor Rickie Rush, of Inspiring Body of Christ Church, spoke how our storms are like lemonade. We journey through the bitter to get to the sweet. That's how I view Dad's death. I realized how he suffered. The diabetes dictated an amputation below the knee on one leg in 1997. The beginning of the end. During Dad's rehab, a clot formed behind his eye and his sight was quite not the same. Dad could see, yet for him it wasn't good enough. I saw his confidence sink. In July 2001, Dad went blind and doctors said no hope for sight to be regained. Dad was moved to a nursing home in our home town to start rehab, so he may one day go home and fend for himself. Then on October 18, 2001, Dad went to sleep for the final time. I always believed Dad knew. He'd had enough. In fact, the staff, went to wake him for a doctor's appointment and he was gone.

Dad's death was/is bitter to me. I became an adult orphan that day. The sweet side is Dad joined my mom in heaven. In fact, his funeral wound up being their 47th wedding anniversary. I mentioned it in my eulogy to him. Also, Dad need not suffer anymore and can sit on any cloud with my mom--just as it should be. With a death, something begins to live--and that was something sweet I've had to adjust to. I know Dad didn't want to leave me, yet he knew I had to start living. He'd had enough.

When Dad passed, his sight regained and could see as far as his eyes could see. My daddy watches over me every single day. And there are those times the King Edwards cigar smoke tickles my nose.

I am blessed.

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.

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.

Father's Day...

Today is Father’s Day.

Dad would have opened the dozen or so cards I got him.

He would have fixed us pancakes---even though it was his day.

We would chat over our bountiful breakfast.

Reminisce about the time I slit open Christmas packages, and then tried to tape them back together.

Or the time we made a bird house together.

Or the time he took me on my first airplane ride.

Or we would talk about my mom. How she passed away so young, then

We would laugh about all the Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper we ate after she left.

Today would have been our day. Daddy Daughter Time.

We might have gone fishing. Just the two of us.

Dad has now been gone seven years. Time does not stop.

Sometimes I swear I still smell his King Edward cigar.

I know Dad is with me. I rejoice that he and my mom are together.

My God gave me parents who loved me more than life itself.

I know I am loved.

I know I am blessed.

Everyday is Father’s Day.