....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.
