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 23, 2001 was Tuesday

...and I remember it well. It was my dad's funeral and I wanted to smack the preacher. He was chosen by my step-mother, because well, frankly I didn't know any. Until my uncle mentioned another man who precided over my mom's funeral years before and actually grew up with my dad. This other man did speak at the end of my dad's funeral and was great.

OK, back to the first preacher. He kept pronouncing our last name wrong. And when I was up at the podium to deliver my dad's eulogy, I began to tear up. Well, he started preaching and saying our name wrong. I looked back at him, and told him so. People that knew me were about to laugh, and my step mother said my name, because they knew I was about ready to do Smack Down in the chapel--OK--and this was before I started my Spiritual Walk...

Later on that evening, a friend of my dad's stopped by the house. He said he'd arrived late to the funeral, but got there in enough time for me to wanna beat up the preacher.....yea, OK..well, maybe...

On this day, in 2010, I still basked in the Texas Rangers win to go into the World Series, then off to a bible study, and then my writers' group, while on my way home the rain poured, thunder rumbled and lightening cracked the sky. I was invited to a Halloween Party tonight--yet just feelin' all into it.

I also watched the Iowa Hawkeyes

lose to the Wisconsin Badgers I didn't like the losing part, yet I liked watching the Hawks play. Because on this 9th anniversary of my dad's death, I knew he watched it with me.

Just like always.

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.

Christmas Eve 2009

And this picture is the view from my front door here in Dallas. Just like Iowa--almost. :)

On this day of all days, as I always do, I recall the spirit of Christmas Eve Past. Especially when I was a kid and didn't know my parents 'helped' Santa out during this night. Just could never get why they seemed to be so tired on Christmas Morn and why sometimes the milk I left out for Santa would smell like that funny stuff my dad drank: SCOTCH.

Or that first Christmas after my mom's death three months prior. It was iffy Dad and I would have any kind of celebration. Both weren't feeling it. Then I remember one day, Dad pulled the King Edward Cigar from his mouth and said, "Dammit, we're having Christmas." The next thing I knew, we had a tree and goodies under it. It wasn't the same, yet it was. The next Christmas Eve, I woke up to a beautiful piano in my house. Dad was shining it up. I hadn't heard anything, when it was delivered that morning. I still have it with me on this Eve.

Or the Christmas Eve, my boyfriend at the time--we'll call him Comic Book, due to his love for them, especially Superman, and Thor--and etc. Anyway, it was our first Christmas and we'd dated pretty much all year. Since his family, which we was not that close to, was in Louisiana, I invited him to my parents house. Our relationship was shakier than the Titanic when it met that iceberg, however on this night, Comic Book was a true little boy as he realized some of the presents under the tree--for HIM. He'd never really had such a thing. Considering my dad could NOT stand Comic Book, the gesture was grand.

Or the Christmas Eve I drove to Iowa from Dallas when I had sinus stuff, plus pain from my sciatic nerve. I'd already put off the trip a couple of days because I was miserable. Dad called me the night of Dec. 23, to check on me. I was stuffy and lie flat on my back to ease the sciatic nerve pain. Dad suggested--quite firmly-maybe I shouldn't come and plus the weather, blah, blah, blah. Of course, I blurted out, "It's Christmas!" Dad tried to sugar coat it how I could come back later in the year--when it was nicer. Then Dad, being the man he was said, "Well, you're gonna do whatever you want to do anyway." So on Christmas Eve morn, I didn't leave as early as I wanted to-still ached and sneezed. However I piled my stuff, desktop computer, two cats and me and up I-35 for a 750 mile trip, I went. Arrived around 9pm Christmas Eve night. Dad said I was his best Christmas present. And he mine. That was our last Christmas Eve together.

So on Christmas Eve 2009. I'm not back in Iowa, eventho friends opened their homes to me in Iowa and in Dallas. Earlier this morning, a chum was at the airport to fly to his parents' home. He'd text'd how there was a delay, so he sat. I called him at 7:15am and coughed and sneezed from sinus stuff and frog voice. We chatted until he got on the plane. Later he text'd his arrival was safe and sound.

Although both my parents are gone, I realize on Christmas Eve 2009. their spirits warm this house.

Some things aren't the same, yet they still are.

I am blessed.

Week Before Christmas

It's Friday. So glad. A cat hollers--which means some kind of attention needed Cats need to get a job. Their litter doesn't grow on trees--well--hmm.

I could go on about work. How I still wonder how I grew to be one of the older statesmen on my team. Just when did I cross from the Eternity Lake of my 20's to Put on Reading Glasses to Read Ingredients on Food Carton Pool? More angry at myself I'm in this situation. Which I just need to crush the cycle. I do think think I disappointed one of the young ladies today that I didn't want to thrust the peace sign with my fingers and say, "Peace out, yo." I choose not to be the cool mom who hangs out with her daughters' chums. When did the grown up stuff really begin?

Tish tosh. That's a topic for another day.

Hey, it's a week before Christmas. And I want to hear Nat King Cole sing a song that so reminds me of Christmas memories with my Dad. I've not been back to Iowa, for Christmas, since 2001. Two months after his passing. I miss it at times--yet I went home to spend that time with him. Now his spirit spends Christmas in my heart--everyday.

Cue up Nat.

Eve of Giving Thanks

And I think of night before Turkey Days past when Mom and Dad stayed up for hours in the kitchen. I'd hear them laugh, talk and cook and the aromas would tickle my nose. I couldn't wait for Mom's sweet potatoes or the cranberry sauce. Those were my favorites outside of her pumpkin pie! Yep, my mom could cook. I've been told I can make a mean pie and dish of mancotti---alas, not as good as Mom's!

So I think of those nights before. In my jammies. Just waiting for our feast. I recall, as I got older, we didn't do so much the all the family come to the house, or we went to their house thing-I have pictures from those times. Maybe new traditions wanted to be started. And that was OK for me.

I liked being with my parents. To listen at them bicker and laugh. To know they loved me, even if Mom had NO problem in dishing out a spank or two! .

Just like on this Eve to Give Thanks, their spirts embrace me now-

As it should and always will be

And I give my thanks.

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.

June 21, 2009 is Father's Day

Big Daddy Don (as a chum called him) has been gone since October 2001. Still so miss the ever King Edward cigar smokin' let's go fishin and then stop and get some ice cream guy! :) I had a habit of sending Dad a good dozen cards on Father's Day-. How that started, I really don't know. Just what I did. And I miss doing that too.

Could go on and on and ON about memories-good and bad-however, I won't. Not right now.

I do picture being back in our house in Iowa with my belly filled with Dad's dee-lish bar-b-q. Dad would situated in his chair, while I sat across from him. The cats (I hauled 750 miles from Dallas) and Dad's hound called a truce and snooze somewhere. With King Edward cigar in his mouth, and ashes sprinkle on his shirt, Dad clicks through channels on the remote.

And then Dad finds the channel that takes us to where we both like to go: Mayberry

Memory--indeed.

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.

My Month C'est Marvelous!

Stepped on the scale this morning
It screamed MUCH louder.
Who cares?
It's absolute April!
The month I burst onto this Earth
The 8th day is my day.
Seven days from this day.
Some folk rile why I make such a big deal
About my day. My month.
My parents suffered through four stillborns before me

I was their last chance

And I arrived on time, April 8, at 4:37 in the morning.

I all ready knew I had things to start and do

Even through rough times after my mom's death

When I was 13, to my dad's final months in 2001

Wanted. Loved. That's what I was.

Makes memories of the spanks not too bad.

Fast forward to now-2009

With American Idol tonight. Megan Joy should be sad at night's end

Along with a Who Cares? on the sinkful of dishes

It is still April--my month.

Diamond is my birthstone

The ring, my dad gave me on my 31st birthday proves that

Sure, things could always be better.

And they will.

What you see is temporary

What you don't see is eternal

Wanted. Loved. That's what I was

And still am

Blessed